honesty.
She was truly stumped.
The phone at the front desk rang and the receptionist answered it with a quick tap of her head set. “Good morning, Mister Parker,” she said.
Sigourney flinched. Mister Parker? Did that mean Orlando Parker, the CEO of the firm?
Supposedly that was the person she would be working for if she signed the offer letter—although such a thing was impossible.
In fact, it was laughably ridiculous.
“Yes, I presented the letter,” the receptionist said archly into her headset. “The employee is considering it as we speak….yes, I’ll be sure to let you know, Sir.” A moment later, she hung up by touching her head set again. And then she went back to typing.
Sigourney approached one more time, trying to make her voice carry a little more power. “Excuse me, but I really have to insist that there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said, careful not to use the word mistake .
The receptionist finally looked at her. Her blue eyes were intense and condescending. “Miss Beckett, I assure you the only misunderstanding right now is that you seem to think you know something I don’t. And that is the only misunderstanding. Now, you have the day to consider the offer. Please take your time, but I have my own work to do.” She turned back to her monitor.
Sigourney rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Is there someone else I can talk to before signing? I’ve literally spoken to nobody but you.”
Well, that wasn’t strictly true, she thought. That stranger in the elevator had spoken to her, but that had hardly been a conversation, and certainly nothing to do with anything official.
The receptionist gave her a thin, restrained smile. “If you’d like, I can ask Mr. Parker if he has any free time. Otherwise, no.”
“Mr. Parker, the CEO?” Sigourney barely squeaked.
“Yes, the CEO. He’s very busy, but I’m sure he’d be only too happy to take his precious time to reassure you that we didn’t put the wrong name on the form.” Her expression was positively stony now.
“No, that’s okay.” She retreated from the desk and went to sit down on one of the leather chairs. She studied the letter over and over and ran through possible scenarios.
She had the day to consider it. She could leave, go back to the apartment and talk it over with Hannah. Or call her parents and ask their advice.
But in the end, nobody could truly tell her what to do because this was uncharted territory.
This required a decision .
“Shit,” she muttered, swiping the back of her hand across her damp forehead. She gripped the heavy pen tightly and brought it down to the signature line.
If the offer were legitimate (which made no sense whatsoever), then she would definitely want to accept it. She had no other options or opportunities and this was a prestigious and well-known Venture Capital firm.
On the other hand, if the offer were somehow a mistake or a test, maybe she would have failed to do the correct thing. Except that she had the sneaking suspicion that any such test in a place like this would reward the kind of employee willing to take risks and make brash decisions—even if it wasn’t strictly the right thing to do.
At least, that was what she was hoping and praying was the case.
If she didn’t get a job soon, she really would be forced to run back to Massachusetts with her tail between her legs.
And maybe that wouldn’t be the end of the world, either.
Scooping ice cream for another summer didn’t seem like such a bad thing right about now.
You’ve got nothing to lose but your pride, and there’s precious little of that left anyhow.
She shook her head, sighing at her own stupidity as she scrawled her signature across the line at the bottom of the page and dated it.
Her hand shook perceptibly as she did so.
And then it was finished. She stood up, walked over to the desk and handed the receptionist her clipboard.
The woman took it without acknowledging her.
After she’d handed