Bragging is not me, but I got a good grade for this paper and I am quite proud of it so here I go posting it online. Is this the longest blog title ever? Lala-humdrum-Glee rocks.

Task 3: Write a text about your first day at work in an international company. Make it humorous if you can!

My first day

- A story about nerves and red thongs


It all started on a sunny day in March. I was sitting at the dining table, looking through my mail when I heard my favourite ringing tone. Instead of having to rummage through my purse as I always do, my cell phone was right on top, vibrating happily on the latest Vogue. The number was unknown. I pressed the green button and said my ridiculously long name. I was forced to do that since my new boss could call any moment and I was quite proud of the way my name sounded. You would think that my parents were royalty instead of smelly hippies who at the time of my birth lived with Buddhist monks in Indonesia.


‘’Ah, I’ve got the right person! Hello, my name is Lucinda and I was wondering if you could imagine yourself on a cruise ship on its way to the Caribbean? Of course you can! We at Travel Safe & Expensive have a special offer this week and you are chosen to be one of the lucky people who...’’


I realized that I was staring at the wall with my mouth open, while the saleslady kept yapping on about a cruise, so I ended the conversation with a forceful: ‘’Bye Lucinda!’’ and hung up. I sat back down with a frown on my face and looked though my mail again. To see if there was anything I’d missed the first time. No, there were no responses to applications, no envelopes with all kinds of marvellous job offers and there were no keys to my new office on the top floor of some skyscraper. There were just bills and a postcard from my grandma who, quite honestly, had a more exciting life than me. Then the phone went again.


That was one and a half months ago. Today, after interviews, calls and recommendations I finally get to start my new job at Bloomingdales. With my make-up mask on and in my best looking outfit, I was standing in front of the enormous building trying to steady my hands. I reminded myself that this was a job I was perfect for and that no one would try to eat me up there. Stab me to death with the new Louboutins maybe. I followed some chic looking ladies through the sliding doors and breathed in my new workplace. It was a confusing scent of doughnuts, flowers and ink. As I headed for the reception desk, my heels making tick-ticking noises on the floor, my hands started shaking uncontrollably. I greeted the guy behind the desk, told him my name and caught him laughing at it behind his hand. He told me that it was a horrible name and that I would even be better off with his name. Which he told me. I laughed. He said that he preferred Adam, because then people couldn’t get confused by the silent n. That was my first friend at Bloomingdales. Adam was a secretary who, as every other secretary, wore eyeliner and slept with the boss. He found himself too good for his job, but kept it, because of the way he could be himself here. Adam brought me up to meet my new boss called Vera Woodsen. I had only seen her through glass at my interview. According to Adam that was a good thing because she could actually spit fire. I knocked and he disappeared. I heard a high-pitched ‘’Come in.’’ and I walked through the door with a blurry vision of myself being barbequed in the back of my head. Sitting at her desk was the sourest woman I had ever seen. She didn’t look up when she said:


‘’So you are Nancy’s new assistant?’’


Unsure how to address her, (Should I reply with courtesy?) I answered with a terribly Southern sounding ‘’Yes Madame.’’


‘’And you think you are capable of the job? I would just like you to know that we here at Bloomingdales expect nothing else but excellence from both our staff and our clients. The job ‘’assistant personal shopper’’ may sound like a summer breeze but with it comes a lot of responsibility. Our clients are all very peculiar about what they like, and your job is to fink exactly the right things. I don’t want mistakes. I don’t want wrong sizes. And I most certainly don’t want unhappy clients. Is that clear?’’


‘’Yes of course Madame,’’ said I, still standing in front of her desk. ‘’Crystal clear. I will do my best. I have even...’’ Then she interrupted me and sent me to Nancy to start. I went out of that office with the feeling that my biggest fear was over with, but that was before I knew what was coming.


Two hours later I was sitting in someone else’s office sorting out files. They told me that I would start out calmly. It was most certainly calm, because the hardest thing I had to do was remember the alphabet. Storming in came Adam. If I could come to Nancy’s office right away, there was a problem. Worried that they may have found my face book-page and that they had seen something they didn’t like, I hurried in and listened to Nancy’s message. Someone had a car accident. An important client was flying in from Austria and there was no one to cover. I was the only solution. Could I take over and help the client? I thought about it for a moment, pressed down the nervous wreck inside of me and said yes. Of course I could do it. Okay, then I was to run up to the roof to welcome the client.


Half an hour later I was picking out lingerie for the Duchess of Aufbershietzen uber Niechtenstein while her four bodyguards were surrounding us. Blindfolded. Because the Duchess of Aufbershietzen uber Niechtenstein didn’t want them to know that she preferred red thongs. The Duchess was embarrassed but I must say that she had a pretty good body for an 82 year-old. After that there was Emma Bourbon. She was the youngest daughter of the man who owned half the country. I have never in my life met a seven year-old as sure of her taste as Miss Bourbon. She knew what kind of colour she wanted on the unicorn that was hand-woven into her lilac pencil skirt. When I discovered the one she wanted, she just swept her credit card and then disappeared into the limo. At the end of the day I got to dress up Eddie. He was a balding divorcee, ready for a new life and looking for new gloves. He smelled of tobacco and sweat, but he was as sweet as the day was long. When he asked for my number I was extremely professional and told him that I could not mix my career and my personal life. I did not tell him that my career was one day long and that I was disgusted by his light brown fingernails. When I was done with my unusual clients I was called into Nancy’s office again. She applauded me for being so professional and for doing such a good job. Then she told me to be at her office 9 o’clock sharp the next day and to ‘’relax a bit on the eye make-up and wear shoes you can actually walk in!’’ I gave her my fake smile and went home, exhausted but satisfied.


That was the story of my first day here at Bloomingdales. Even though I am retiring now, I would advise anyone with an interest in clothes and fashion and a sharp eye for personal style to apply for the job of personal shopper. It is utterly rewarding and extremely fun. It will guarantee you eye-opening experiences for a lifetime and interesting contacts around the world. You will not regret it.


With kind regards,


Lucy N. K. D. T. L. Bass.