His dismissive attitude towards my frustrations had become all too familiar. Whenever I expressed my discontent, he simply brushed it off with a wave, telling me to use my black credit card and not worry about superficial matters. But today, the lack of sleep from our argument and the long, solitary bike ride left me feeling drained.
When I finally arrived at the office, I was met with an unwelcome sight. Maeve, dressed in a chic, designer outfit that screamed luxury, was waiting for me with a scowl etched on her face. The morning sun filtered through the large office windows, casting long shadows on her expression of irritation. "Amy, what time do you call this? Do you have any idea how much you've delayed things?"
Her sharp tone cut through me like a knife. I was taken aback—after all, I was just a receptionist. What could I possibly have delayed? Was there an issue with the office supplies, or perhaps a missing memo? I ignored her and moved to my workstation, turning on the computer with a practiced nonchalance.
Maeve's frustration seemed to boil over as she began banging her fist on the front desk. "Amy, are you even listening to me?"
Startled, I looked up with a wooden expression. "Oh, do you need something?"
Maeve's anger was palpable as she seethed, her chest heaving with each breath. Just then, a client emerged from the conference room, looking slightly bewildered. Maeve's eyes flashed with irritation as she barked at me, "Print five copies of the meeting materials I emailed you yesterday. Now!"
Having said that, she quickly composed herself and hurried towards the client. They chatted for a few minutes before disappearing back into the conference room.
Meanwhile, I calmly printed the requested materials. I thought it was no big deal. But didn't she have a printer connected to her own computer?
As I entered the conference room to deliver the documents, I saw Maeve apologizing profusely to the client. "I'm so sorry," she said, "Our staff is so inefficient that they've wasted your time."
She shot a venomous glance in my direction, clearly trying to pin the blame on me. Normally, I would have swallowed my pride and accepted the blame, as Zane preferred to avoid conflict at the office. But today was different. I placed the freshly printed documents on the desk, facing the client with a practiced smile.