07

Monday November 14

I turn and turn on myself for the thousandth time in about 15 minutes. I am in front of my mirror and I observe my pace for my first day of work. I'm absolutely not sure of the outfit I chose and I'm literally anxious. I'm wearing the new clothes I bought last week that were approved by my best friend. For this plunge into the deep end, I chose raw slim jeans that voluptuously outline my legs and a fitted off-white blouse adorned with a lace yoke just above my chest and all along my arms. "Apparently wise but only in appearance" as Cassiopeia would say. I spiced up my outfit with a dusty pink leather blazer and my new pumps that my friend gave me.

She came by last night to wish me a good first day and when she left, I discovered a package on my bed with a note in an envelope that said: "These little jewels are your new lucky charm, think of me every time you wear them and I'll send you all my courage. I love you my Can-can." I have tears in my eyes just thinking back to that moment. Stop Candice, don't mess up your makeup!

Despite my habit of wearing very little make-up, I highlighted my emerald green eyes with a light line of anthracite gray eyeliner and mascara and I enhanced my luscious lips with a lipstick very slightly coral nude pink. I voluntarily chose to let my hair dry naturally and my perfectly tamed mane draws sublime brown curls that frame my face.

When I look in the mirror, I don't recognize myself right away. I no longer find myself smooth and plain, not this time. Today, I find myself classy but not stuffy, feminine and slightly sexy but not vulgar and above all, my look is dazzling. A touch of malice and envy have appeared and I am delighted to find them, I who had lost them for far too long. This morning, I want to crunch life to the full and please.

The many messages exchanged with my mysterious Big Brown Bear all weekend may have something to do with it. I feel like I'm back in time when I was fifteen, when I was feverishly waiting for the boy I secretly loved to answer me. Except I'm not in love with Big Brown Bear of course. If I have to tell you a secret, I admit that I like it very much. He's funny, really, really funny, and he seems like a simple, easy-going person.

With it, I can say whatever comes into my head and being protected behind my screen helps me a lot. As I had promised myself on Friday evening, I asked him for more information about him and especially a photo before continuing our discussions. I explained my reasoning to him and he understood very well. So he answered almost all my indiscreet questions and we chatted until late at night. That night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face and a swollen heart.

So I learned that he is 31 years old, that he lives about twenty kilometers from my house, that he is an electrician, that he was born in Italy because his father is Italian but that there is no has hardly ever lived, that he hates watching sports on television and that the only sport he does is tennis. The last mystery hovering over him is his first name. He didn't want to reveal it to me and he challenged me to guess as we talked.

I came up with several classic French first names like Paul, Pierre or François and thank god it wasn't the right answer. Not that I have anything against the Pauls, the Pierres or the Françoises, but I don't find these names very... exciting! I then embarked on an extensive search for Italian first names or names of Italian origin, but apparently I was on the wrong track. The only clue I managed to get is that it's a timeless name. I am well advanced now!

Big Brown Bear also responded favorably to my request for a photo and I was pleasantly surprised to discover a rather tall man (more than 1m80 I would say), rather slender, not very muscular but well proportioned with a soft and an expressive gaze.

Her fairly short, straight brown hair is styled fairly conventionally but that doesn't bother me. Her lips are very thin and her shiny brown eyes give off a certain depth and a lot of playfulness. We immediately feel that he is not the wise and prudish type. Besides, his messages are there to confirm it! Finally, her smile lights up her face and offers great sweetness. At first sight, he seems to me to be a good and responsible man. I absolutely do not imagine his photo next to the definition of "bastard" in the dictionary!

After complying with all my demands, Monsieur-whose-first-name-is-unknown-to-me-but-I-will-solve-the-mystery took matters into his own hands, asked me for a new photo and gave me a rather comical interrogation. I laughed a lot answering his questions and I think my favorite remains: "Which do you prefer between being in front of all your favorite cakes but not having arms to grab them or being able to grab all your favorite cakes but not having of mouth to eat them?" How can we respond to this dilemma? While I was stuck in front of my screen laughing without knowing what to write, he hastened to add: "As far as you are concerned, I would choose the first proposal. I don't want you to lose your beautiful plump lips. ." And that's how I blushed for the twentieth time that day! So I spent a rather pleasant weekend, chatting with a man and enjoying his nice words.

I snap out of my daydream when I notice the alarm clock shows 8:15 a.m. and run to the kitchen to make myself a quick breakfast. After brushing my teeth and checking my appearance for the umpteenth time, I hop in my car with my heart full of excitement.

I arrive at La Soierie Saint Martin at 8:50 a.m. and head to my new office. A young woman has already arrived and seems immersed in a file, a coffee in her hand. I take a deep breath and challenge him with a smile.

-Hello, I'm Candice, the new sales assistant.

She looks up at me and gives me a big smile.

-Hello Candice, I was waiting for you! Let me introduce myself, I'm Marina, your sales representative. It is with me that you will work almost exclusively, unless Mrs. Saint Martin or Mr. Archer need you.

Please don't let Mr. Archer need me!

-I suggest that we sit together in the small meeting room and that we detail together your new attributions, she continues. I'll let you settle in quietly, join me in a quarter of an hour.

She finishes her sentence with a warm smile on her lips and I am immediately relieved to work in tandem with her. Marina seems to me to be the kind of friendly colleague to whom we like to tell about our weekend. So I move to my new office and discover a small pile of files with the annotation "to be treated as a priority". I leaf through them quickly and set them aside. I decide to turn on my computer and notice with relief that my session and my email address have been configured before my arrival. I'm so bad at computers that it will save me from making a fool of myself by calling the technical department on the first day!

When I join Marina in the meeting room with my files under my arm, I pass several people who greet me politely. The atmosphere seems to be pleasant, it's reassuring. As I walk through the door, Marina turns off the kettle and the sweet smell of coffee wafts through the air.

-I started the coffee maker and the kettle, I didn't know what you prefer, begins my new colleague. Serve yourself what makes you happy and we will be able to get to know each other.

I thank my colleague and therefore pour some hot water and a tea bag into a cup and I sit down opposite her, equipped with a notepad and the files I found on my desk.

-I found these files on my desk, I suppose they will occupy us soon?

-You do not know how right you are ! These 6 files are the most urgent and important matters that I deal with and my former assistant could not finalize them before her departure. So we'll have to get to that before the end of next week. On the other hand, I'm going to keep the blue file with me for a while, it's too complex and you'll have too much trouble getting through it for a first case.

So I take the blue Royal Beauty folder and hand it to her so that she can take over until I have gained enough experience. We spend the next two hours going over each file. Marina introduces me to the client, explains the background to each case and presents the business approach she wants to take for each one. I appreciate her way of working, she is very organised and rigorous but she also knows how to adapt to each client in order to put in place a personalised commercial strategy. I am sure I will learn a lot from her. After these two intense hours, I understand perfectly what Marina expects from me and I am convinced that I will be able to live up to it. I can't wait to get started!

Having finished our first brief, we return to our offices and she introduces me to each of my new colleagues. The sales team is quite dense: 5 salespeople and 5 assistants make it up and each pair manages a well-defined geographical area. The British market is therefore reserved for us and my first case concerns a major London theater which wishes to obtain supplies of silk for the making of certain costumes and sets. The morning flies by at breakneck speed, so when all my colleagues get up around 12:30 to go to lunch, I feel like I've only been working for a few minutes. I am sincerely delighted with my missions and my partner.

Marina approaches my office located in the room adjacent to hers and asks me:

-Candice, do you want to have lunch with us or do you have other plans? We usually eat in the break room but you can also go to the canteen if you prefer.

-I would like to come with you to the break room, thank you for thinking of me.

My colleague smiles at me and I follow suit. On the way, she warns me that she is stopping at the bathroom and shows me the way to the break room. I walk down the hall, staring down at my phone and checking my messages. I received 3: one from my best friend, one from Sandra and one from Big Brown Bear. Everyone asks me how my first day is going. I'm tapping on my phone to answer them when a deep, slightly hoarse voice startles me. I look up and jump again.

"Good... day Mr... Archer," I said, my voice shaking.

His eyes literally pierce me and his cold, haughty expression never left him. After several endless seconds, he finally moves to put his phone back in his pocket, his conversation seemingly over. His perfectly tailored black suit and fitted black shirt show off his torso beautifully. If I didn't know him, I would imagine him to be the kind of reassuring and protective man you want to snuggle up to after a tiring day. Except that I have already rubbed shoulders with him and his reassuring side remained in the locker room that day. Instead, I had been treated to his dismissive and disagreeable facet. Wishing to escape him as soon as possible, I continue my way but he decides otherwise. His words smack in the

-You will come to my office at the end of the afternoon, Miss Dumin.

This sentence freezes my blood and I imagine a whole bunch of scenarios whose common point is the always catastrophic end that awaits me. I still managed to stammer out an answer.

-T... tr... very well Mr... Archer. What time do you want...uh...me to come?