Let me show you how I see

“Deep breaths, Madeleine.” I muttered under my breath, walking into a large, polished looking office lobby. My nerves were shot. Meeting with Ray Shero wasn’t exactly something I got to do every day, after all.
“Yes, dear?” The secretary said, looking up from her computer as I approached.
“I’m here to see Mr. Shero.” I said nervously. My legs were beginning to shake. Please, please don’t fall. I thought desperately.
“Oh! Of course sweetie. One moment.” She smiled at me and pushed a button on her phone “Mr. Shero, Madeleine Rousseau is here to see you.” She said into the speaker.
“Thank you Sherrie. Send her up.” A deep voice replied. The secretary, Sherrie, smiled at me again and hung up.
“Now, Mr. Shero’s office is on the third floor and the sixth door to the left. Good luck!” She turned back to her computer and continued typing whatever I interrupted her from. Oh god. The third floor. I really wasn’t in the mood for standing awkwardly in an elevator while I was shaking like a fool. I walked towards the nearest, shiny elevator doors. Even my steps sounded wrong against the polished marble surface. I pushed the up button. The doors opened immediately.

The doors opened again shortly after I stepped on. I was finally there. To meet Ray Shero of the Pittsburgh Penguins. I turned left, slowly, down the hall. Pictures of different hockey teams covered the walls, the glass covering them bright and shiny. I came to the sixth door after what seemed like forever. “Ray Shero, Manager” the door red, with a sign that hung on below a small window. I took a deep breath, then knocked.
“Come in.” The same voice I heard on the phone’s speaker called out. It sounded friendly enough. I opened the door, my hands now shaking. I put on my best business smile and walked in.
“You must be Miss Rousseau. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ray” Mr. Shero said with a smile. I grinned back and shook his hand.
“Yes sir. You can call me Madeleine if you wish. It’s wonderful to meet you as well.” I replied, nodding my head a little. Stupid accent, it sounded much thicker than usual.
“French Canadian, eh? Have a seat.”
I sat, putting the briefcase I forgot I had down beside me. I carefully folded my hands on my lap, making sure I sat up as straight as possible without looking stupid.
“Now, tell me Madeleine, how much experience do you have in the field of management?” He asked, opening a neat, organized notebook with a pen.
“Quite a bit, sir. I’ve managed many minor league teams for Canada and Pennsylvania. Here’s a few reviews from my previous work. I thought you might want to see some of the things I’ve done.” I replied, my nervousness vanishing.
“Very good Ms. Rousseau, very good. It appears you’ve been very good in organizing and dealing with your teams. And it seems they liked you quite a bit, too.” Mr. Shero said, studying the papers I had handed him. His eyes ran down the sheets quickly, but, carefully. I had seen this before. Every person that ever interviewed me was very cautious when it came to business. I was young, not only in years but in looks as well. You could tell I was merely twenty two, and, management was something usually left to the more experienced, even when it came to being the assistant.
“Thank you sir.” I replied, smiling.
“So, your work has only been in the hockey business, or…?” He looked up at me, studying my face nearly as carefully as my papers.
“Yes and no sir. I actually managed a soccer team before as my first job, but, my heart wasn’t exactly for it.” I said, also careful with my words.
“Good, good.” He muttered, scribbling in his notebook in rapid, pointy handwriting. I waited patiently for him to ask me the next question.
“I’ll call you tomorrow to tell you how you did.” He said, looking up once again. Shock ran through my body. My eyes were wide for a moment, but I quickly put a poker face on. He was finished already?
“Yes sir. Thank you for your time, sir.” I replied in an even voice. He stood, I followed. He put his hand out.
“Thank you, Madeleine, for your time as well. You should receive the call from either I or my secretary around two. I look forward to meeting you again.” He shook my hand, and walked me to the door. He opened it, showing me out. I smiled at him one last time, and walked back to the elevator.

I got in my car, slamming the door shut. What the hell was that about? Interviews are never that quick. Never. Did he like me? Does he really expect me to wait till two the next day to hear how I did in ten minutes? Angrily, I pulled out of the parking lot back to my apartment. I wished I knew what he was thinking. The man put on the straightest face I’d ever seen, not to mention the fact that he didn't exactly let me know how he felt about my presentation. Lovely. This day was just, lovely.

The sound of a ringing phone woke me up. I moaned and looked at the clock next to my bed. One thirty?
“Shit!” I squealed, jumping up. I ran across my house in my underwear and slid into the kitchen. At the last ring, I ripped the phone out of its base.
“Bonjour?” I asked frantically.
“Hello Ms. Rousseau!” Mr. Shero’s voice answered cheerily.
“Oh, Mr. Shero. I didn’t expect you to call until two.” I replied weakly. This man was really something, sending me out of his office in less than fifteen minutes and then calling me thirty minutes earlier than he said he would. Usually, replies for jobs came late, not early. Douche.
“Yes, well, I wanted to share the good news with you early. Dan and I spoke about your interview this morning and decided you were a wonderful fit for the job. In fact, the team has a meeting today in a few hours, and, he was wondering if you’d like to meet them.” He said in a hopeful tone.
My heart stopped. I knew that if I got the job I would meet the team, and, for that matter, be around them all the time. But, it didn’t really process through my mind until then. I was going to meet the Penguins. All of them. Today.
“Ms. Rousseau?” Mr. Shero said, his voice wary.
“Oh. Oh! Yes, sir, that sounds wonderful. Thank you sir! Where is the practice held?” I asked, my mind starting to work properly at long last.
“At the Iceoplex at Southpointe. Its street number is 114 on Southpointe Boulevard. Five o’clock.” He replied. I yanked an envelope and a pen out of one of my kitchen drawers, writing the address down as quickly as my hand would let me.
“Okay. So, 114 Southpointe boulevard, the Iceoplex at…..Five….Correct?”
“Correct. And, I am sorry, but, I will not be able to attend. I have a few meetings to get to.” He replied
“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that sir. Thank you very much!” I let out a quit, relieved breath. I didn’t want to have to be as uptight as I was the day before.
“You are quite welcome. I’d suggest you bring skates, by the way. And dress for some kind of exercise. Bye now.” He said, hanging up before I could return my farewell.
I hung up my phone. Relief washed through me. I got the job. With yesterday’s awful agenda over, today was a new day.