called me Andressa.
“We’ve all been looking forward to your arrival. Welcome to the Hartford office,” she said.
Her wide smile made me truly feel welcomed. After thanking her, I scanned the area for the source of the “all” but saw only standard gray cubicles. No one besides this blazer-wearing, mascara-laden girl cared about my arrival. She appeared friendly enough and around my age, which made me feel optimistic about my new co-workers.
“I see Bree got to you first.” A familiar male voice drew closer as Bob Fitzgerald approached.
He was the Senior Accounts Manager who arranged for my transfer, and we’d met a handful of times over the last few years. I deduced he was the reason my new colleague knew not to use my full name.
“Yes, and I was just about to ask her where to meet you,” I said to Bob then turned to face Bree. “Thanks for greeting me.”
“Holler if you need anything.” She floated away behind the half walls.
Bob escorted me to my office. I hadn’t expected an actual, private room and suppressed my delighted smile. The space was small and my view was of the parking lot, but it was a step above the land of cubicles I left behind in Providence. Seeing my name on the door made me feel important, and confident transferring was a wise decision.
“Take your time familiarizing yourself. I’m sure Human Resources will have several emails and plenty of documents to read and sign. All the formalities should keep you busy this morning. Nothing should be too foreign though, I think you’ll have a smooth transition.”
“Thanks, Bob.” I began to close the door behind him, but kept it half open to appear inviting.
I liked how the word transition sounded—positive and hopeful. The way I wanted to feel. I repeated the word in my head throughout the morning, planning to use it when explaining my decision to move. Saying I was ready for a transition sounded more appealing than telling my old co-workers I felt stuck.
The morning flew by while I acquainted myself with their internal system. By the time I reviewed, read, downloaded, printed, and signed all the paperwork I heard my stomach grumble. Jotting down my new passwords was my last task before a lunch break, though I didn’t know my options.
While researching restaurants on my phone, I saw Bree stop at my office.
She hovered in my doorway saying, “Knock, knock, ready for lunch?”
“You bet.” I nodded and stood. I was thankful for the interruption and offer of inclusion.
She wore a long puffer coat zipped to her chin and a gigantic designer hand bag draped from her arm.
Her outfit indicated we’d be leaving the building. “Where to?”
“Only a few choices are within walking distance so we don’t waste a bunch of time.” She gave me a head-to-toe inspection and announced, “You look like you watch what you eat and work out, like me, so I thought we’d walk to Salads, Salads, Salads. ”
“Creative name.”
She gave a dramatic eye roll. “It beats Burgers and More! ”
Laughing along, I pulled my cross-body bag over my wool pea coat and fished in my pockets for gloves. I followed Bree outside through a courtyard to another identical office building that housed the salad restaurant on the ground floor. Our building was the only one without an eatery which instead featured a rather small newsstand. While this situation seemed inconvenient now in the middle of winter, I bet the walk would be a welcome break during warmer months.
We navigated our way through the massive salad bar, attempting small talk over the sneeze-glass and settling into a corner table. We exchanged light banter of the getting-to-know-you nature, but I had a feeling she wanted to ask more personal questions.
Halfway through our pleasant enough lunch and conversation, she asked, “So, what really brought you here?”
And there it was—the inquisition I dreaded. Here was where I reported I had nothing interesting to tell, but I expected my answer
“We’ve all been looking forward to your arrival. Welcome to the Hartford office,” she said.
Her wide smile made me truly feel welcomed. After thanking her, I scanned the area for the source of the “all” but saw only standard gray cubicles. No one besides this blazer-wearing, mascara-laden girl cared about my arrival. She appeared friendly enough and around my age, which made me feel optimistic about my new co-workers.
“I see Bree got to you first.” A familiar male voice drew closer as Bob Fitzgerald approached.
He was the Senior Accounts Manager who arranged for my transfer, and we’d met a handful of times over the last few years. I deduced he was the reason my new colleague knew not to use my full name.
“Yes, and I was just about to ask her where to meet you,” I said to Bob then turned to face Bree. “Thanks for greeting me.”
“Holler if you need anything.” She floated away behind the half walls.
Bob escorted me to my office. I hadn’t expected an actual, private room and suppressed my delighted smile. The space was small and my view was of the parking lot, but it was a step above the land of cubicles I left behind in Providence. Seeing my name on the door made me feel important, and confident transferring was a wise decision.
“Take your time familiarizing yourself. I’m sure Human Resources will have several emails and plenty of documents to read and sign. All the formalities should keep you busy this morning. Nothing should be too foreign though, I think you’ll have a smooth transition.”
“Thanks, Bob.” I began to close the door behind him, but kept it half open to appear inviting.
I liked how the word transition sounded—positive and hopeful. The way I wanted to feel. I repeated the word in my head throughout the morning, planning to use it when explaining my decision to move. Saying I was ready for a transition sounded more appealing than telling my old co-workers I felt stuck.
The morning flew by while I acquainted myself with their internal system. By the time I reviewed, read, downloaded, printed, and signed all the paperwork I heard my stomach grumble. Jotting down my new passwords was my last task before a lunch break, though I didn’t know my options.
While researching restaurants on my phone, I saw Bree stop at my office.
She hovered in my doorway saying, “Knock, knock, ready for lunch?”
“You bet.” I nodded and stood. I was thankful for the interruption and offer of inclusion.
She wore a long puffer coat zipped to her chin and a gigantic designer hand bag draped from her arm.
Her outfit indicated we’d be leaving the building. “Where to?”
“Only a few choices are within walking distance so we don’t waste a bunch of time.” She gave me a head-to-toe inspection and announced, “You look like you watch what you eat and work out, like me, so I thought we’d walk to Salads, Salads, Salads. ”
“Creative name.”
She gave a dramatic eye roll. “It beats Burgers and More! ”
Laughing along, I pulled my cross-body bag over my wool pea coat and fished in my pockets for gloves. I followed Bree outside through a courtyard to another identical office building that housed the salad restaurant on the ground floor. Our building was the only one without an eatery which instead featured a rather small newsstand. While this situation seemed inconvenient now in the middle of winter, I bet the walk would be a welcome break during warmer months.
We navigated our way through the massive salad bar, attempting small talk over the sneeze-glass and settling into a corner table. We exchanged light banter of the getting-to-know-you nature, but I had a feeling she wanted to ask more personal questions.
Halfway through our pleasant enough lunch and conversation, she asked, “So, what really brought you here?”
And there it was—the inquisition I dreaded. Here was where I reported I had nothing interesting to tell, but I expected my answer
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