“Hi there, miss, can I see your boss?” Evette asked the receptionist in front of her.
The receptionist glanced up, giggled, and replied, “Do you have an appointment, Miss?”
“No, but it’s important,” Evette said, her voice already tinged with exasperation. She knew she had arrived earlier than anticipated, but she had her reasons.
The receptionist took a few seconds to glare at Evette, her eyes peering over the top of her glasses while she chewed her gum with deliberate slowness.
“Like I said, you can only see the boss if you have a prior appointment, Miss. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. The boss is extremely busy,” said the receptionist—Maya—without looking up, her gaze fixed on the computer screen in front of her as she tapped lightly on the keyboard.
“Hello? Do you even know who I am? You haven’t even asked, yet you’re dismissing me. I could be your next boss for all you know. Is this how you usually treat clients? If you ask me, this could send potential investors packing,” Evette said, clearly appalled by the young woman’s attitude.
Ms. Chewing Gum didn’t seem the least bit bothered. Maya’s expression remained neutral, her fingers still busy on the keys, gum still popping in her mouth.
Evette couldn’t believe she was about to work in a place alongside such an indifferent person. “What’s your name, Miss?” she asked, glancing at the receptionist’s name tag.
“Mm-hmm, call me Ms. Long, please. And excuse my words, ma’am, but I’m simply doing my job the way I’m supposed to. I can’t sneak people in without an appointment just because they look pretty—like you,” Maya replied with a giggle, once again glancing at Evette over the bridge of her glasses.
The chewing was irritating enough, but that smug look was worse.
Secretly, though, Maya admired Evette’s style and presence. She imagined her as some fierce heroine—gorgeous, confident, and magnetic. She even wished she could have a fraction of that charm.
Meanwhile, Evette had no idea she was being admired. If anything, she was simply furious with the woman in front of her.
“I understand you’re doing your job, but you’re doing it terribly. Aren’t you supposed to at least ask who I am? If you did, you’d realize I don’t need an appointment to see your boss,” Evette said, her patience fraying.
“Okay, I get your point. I’m sorry, ma’am. May I know your name?” Maya asked, her tone softening.
“Evette Scott,” Evette replied.
Maya hummed the name under her breath in a sing-song tone as she typed it into the computer. Her eyes widened, practically popping out of their sockets.
“M-Ms. Scott, I—I’m so sorry. Welcome! Please, take a seat, I’ll just make a quick phone call,” she stammered, grabbing the receiver.
Now she stutters? Pfft! Evette thought with a scoff as she sat down, wondering what kind of IQ it took for this receptionist to finally understand after a full lecture. Well… it wasn’t really thirty minutes. With Ms. Evette, things were always exaggerated—it hadn’t even been five.
After making the call, Maya approached the seated Evette, who was casually flipping through a magazine.
“The boss’s secretary will be with you shortly. He’s just finishing up something. What can I get you—tea, coffee, juice, or water?” Maya asked, noticeably more polite.
“Water is fine, thanks,” Evette replied.