Chapter 1 - The Job I Thought I'd Won
When I got my first real job out of college, I figured the hardest part would be convincing everyone I deserved the desk. It never crossed my mind that the person who'd make my stomach drop every morning wouldn't be on the payroll at all.
The office sat on the second floor of an old warehouse on Fillmore Street in Dayton, the kind of building with exposed brick and radiators that clanked all winter. I was 22, my diploma still smelled like the frame, and this was the first place that had ever given me a title instead of an apron.
I kept my first business card in my wallet like it was cash. My name was printed right under the logo of the company Diane had built by herself, from nothing. That was the whole staff — Diane, and me.
She was somewhere around 35, calm in a way that made you straighten your posture without knowing why you'd done it.
I really did think I'd won the lottery.
On my first morning she set a coffee in front of me and said, "I hired you because you asked the right questions in the interview. Don't lose that."
I had no clever answer, so I just nodded like I'd forgotten how to talk.
From the start, Diane believed in me more than anyone ever had. She let me listen in on client calls. She fixed my clumsy emails without once making me feel stupid.
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"Megan, I'm not your boss," she told me one afternoon. "I'm your mentor. Those aren't the same thing."
I loved that job. I loved working for her. I'd have stayed until midnight every night just to prove the desk was really mine.
