Starr Fated (9 page)

He was
squeezing the creative life out of his team, leaving them stuck up
a blind alley, yet he was still expecting them to come up with
something new and exciting. The man was impossible - not that I’d
actually met him, of course – I was far too lowly for him to bother
himself about, and that suited me just fine because I had no desire
whatsoever to cross paths with him. I just kept my head down and
did everything that was asked of me as efficiently as possible, so
that there would be no possible grounds for them to refuse to give
me the reference I needed.

I didn't envy
the guys in the team one bit. They were all so in awe of the Big
Boss, scared of losing their jobs if they went against his
commands. Apparently the last member of the team who’d tried to
suggest a new approach had been ‘let go’, because the Big Boss had
been so unimpressed. So now no one dared to contradict him, or
suggest anything even slightly radical.

For my course
work, I had no such restrictions. I had carte blanche to come up
with whatever designs I wanted, and I took great delight in coming
up with the complete opposite of what the great ogre Liam Starr was
insisting he wanted. Each night when I got home, I worked on my own
version of their project, and I found it really interesting. I
decided it was the kind of work I’d like to get into when I
finished uni. I really threw myself into my project, so that I’d
have some great examples in my portfolio. Of course, if I was lucky
enough to land a place on the exchange program, then hopefully that
might lead to a job – that was always the expectation anyway.

Because mine
was an unpaid internship, and I still needed to eat and pay all my
bills, I had to continue with my part time waitressing job as well
as work at Starr Capital Ventures during the day, and also work on
my uni assignment, so I was busier than ever, much to Jamie’s
disappointment. But that was just the way it had to be, for the
next month or so anyhow. He might be miffed about my current lack
of availability, but he had to concede that it was his own doing
because he’d instigated my placement at his brother’s company.

The Creative
Team comprised of two staff under Simon. Of course they were both
male, although they acted more like old women as they got
themselves in a terrible state about pitching to the Big Boss.

“He’s not
going to go for any of these options. He’s asked for radical
change, but I’m not sure these new designs fit the bill or look
different enough from the existing ones,” Tom worried. He was a
serious young man in his mid-thirties, and I’d gathered from
conversations I’d overheard that his wife was expecting a baby any
day now. And he was right. They might have all the latest equipment
and software at their fingertips, but apart from tinkering about
with the font and spacing, nothing different stood out at all with
their suggestions. Boring and bland about summed up their
proposals.

“I disagree.
Changing the font and altering the spacing makes a huge difference,
but still ensures we’ve followed Mr Starr’s instructions to the
letter, so I don't see how he can complain,” Simon whined. “I
really don't know what more we can do.”

Grow some
balls. Stand up to him. Offer him some decent alternatives. Show
him you know what you’re talking about instead of being brown nosed
sycophants.

Of course I
kept these thoughts to myself. It was not the place of the lowly
tea girl to make comments.

“Well, seeing
as I’m leaving at the end of the month, I'm not going to work
myself into a frenzy over this, when we all know he’s not going to
take a blind bit of notice of any of our recommendations, however
boring and conservative we make them. It’s just a complete waste of
our time, and I don't know why he doesn’t just get on and do it
himself, instead of interfering and micro managing every little
thing we try to do,” Rob grumbled. “The Boss might know the
business inside out, and a tight brief is theoretically supposed to
give you freedom by defining the paremeters, but he’s far too
restrictive. ”

I’d quickly
worked out that Rob Lewis was disillusioned and that was why he was
leaving to take up a position in another company after a couple of
frustrating years at Starr Capital Ventures. He was only in his
late twenties, so I couldn’t blame him for wanting to move on to be
able put his creative talents to far more effective use. He was the
only one who had shown the slightest interest in me, asking me what
I was studying, giving me a few helpful tips when I asked him a few
questions about things I wanted to include in my own project.

~*~

It was the
final week of my placement. The pitch to the Big Boss was all set
for Monday. And with perfect timing, on Sunday evening a threatened
wildcat strike called by all the transport unions in London
unexpectedly went ahead, because they were determined to show a
united front to the government over their latest pay deal. So on
Monday morning there would be no trains, no tubes, no buses - and
it would be chaos. But that didn't really worry me.

I always
walked whenever I could – it saved money and was a great way to
keep fit while I saw more of London life. So on that Monday I just
walked the few miles to work. I wasn’t going to be beaten by a
strike, and I certainly wasn’t going to give Simon any kind of an
excuse for a black mark against me for being late. I enjoyed my
walk, and I easily made it in time, it was just eight fifty five
when I arrived. Ha! to Simon then, who always glanced at the clock
when I walked in every morning, just to let me know he was taking
note.

But it turned
out I was the only one who’d made it into the office so far. As I
took my coat off, hung it up and changed out of my walking
trainers, the phone rang. As there was no one else to answer it, I
took the call.

“Good Morning.
Creative Team, Seraphina Jones speaking. How may I be of
assistance?” I said, using my best ‘I’m a professional’ voice.

“Seraphina?
Simon here. Has Rob made it into the office yet? I can't get hold
of him, although I've left several messages.”

“No, I’m the
only one in so far.”

“Oh Christ!
I’m stuck out here in Surbiton because of the strike - they can’t
say when there’s going to be a train into town. Tom’s wife went
into labour last night, so he’s at the hospital with her. I was
counting on Rob to pitch to Mr Starr in my place this morning. The
meeting is set for nine thirty and there is no way I'm going to
make it to the office in time now.”

“Well, surely
Mr Starr will understand and cancel or at least postpone the
presentation– that’s if he’s even made it into the office this
morning himself?”

“Oh, he’s in
alright, I’ve just spoken to him. He drove in as usual and didn't
see what all the fuss was about with the strike, so I had to assure
him the presentation would still go ahead. Look, hopefully Rob is
on his way and will be there shortly. I made sure I left everything
prepared, so can you use the master keys to get the memory stick
from my desk as well as all the presentation boards out of the
cupboard, and make sure everything’s ready for Rob, so he can take
it up to Mr Starr the moment he walks in. Do you think you could do
that?”

“I think I can
manage it,” I said dryly. Did he think I was stupid or something?
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is ready for Rob.”

If he turned
up. From his attitude previously and the fact that he was leaving
anyway, I wasn’t at all sure he’d be trying that hard to make it in
today, which was probably why he was ignoring Simon’s calls.

“Thank you.
And get Rob to call me the moment he gets in, would you?”

“Of course.
Anything else, Mr. Draper?”

“No, just make
sure you don't muddle up any of the flip charts, because they’re in
the correct order to go with the notes. And for Christ’s sake don't
spill tea over them or anything. They have to be perfect for Mr
Starr.”

“Leave it with
me. Look, it’s nearly ten past nine, so I’d best crack on with
things, hadn’t I?”

The way that
idiot was talking to me, I decided it was best to finish the call
before I said something I might regret later.

I quickly got
everything out and checked it through. I’d watched them going over
and over it, so I was pretty familiar with it all, and it was
really quite simple, because they hadn’t got many new ideas to
pitch. So when it got to nine twenty, and there was still no sign
of Rob, I had a decision to make when Mr Starr’s PA rang down and
asked what was happening. She was demanding to know why no one from
the team had appeared to set up the presentation yet.

I had a ‘sod
it’ moment. I was used to presenting my own ideas at uni. We’d had
tutorials on how to pitch, and we’d practiced our skills by running
our own version of the Dragon’s Den TV program. I knew there was
nothing in this presentation that I wasn’t able to explain. If I
set everything up, hopefully Rob would arrive to take over, but if
not, then I was more than capable of pitching these simple designs
to Mr Big Boss Liam Starr, I told myself. It would be good practice
for me, and I should rise to the challenge, not shy away from it.
Pitching and presenting were always going to be essential skills in
my future career, and it was about time I got something useful out
of this unpaid internship apart from just being able to put their
precious name on my CV.

“I’m just on
my way up now,” I told the PA. Then I gathered everything together,
and gave myself a little pep talk.

Passion,
preparation and presentation. The three essential qualities for a
successful pitch. Keep calm. Keep everything simple and clear. Have
all the facts at your fingertips. Act the part. Look the part.

Hmm. I was
just about conforming to the strict Starr Capital Ventures dress
code. I didn't have a great selection of appropriately boring
office clothes to pick from in my wardrobe, so I’d had to be a bit
creative, as I certainly couldn’t afford to go out and buy lots of
new work clothes. So today I was wearing the black skirt I wore
when I worked in the restaurant waitressing. It was quite short,
but as I was wearing black patterned opaque tights, I didn't think
it looked too tarty or slutty, especially as I was wearing my
favourite low heeled pixie boots, rather than sky high fuck-me
stilettos. I didn't possess a classic silk blouse like the other
women wore to the office, so I’d made do with a white blouse I’d
picked up for a bargain price in the sales. On a limited budget
like mine, the skill was to pick out the pieces that looked more
expensive amongst all the nasty, tacky dross. The blouse I’d picked
out was quite clingy, with lace panels across the boobs, but I
thought it looked reasonably smart, and not as boring as a
perfectly plain blouse. I’d added a nice studded black belt to
cinch it in to complete the outfit.

My hair was
extra wild and curly this morning after my brisk walk into work, so
I quickly twisted it round and pinned it into a bun of sorts. Now
it was noticeable I wasn’t wearing the normal conformist banker’s
wife diamond stud earrings. Instead, I was wearing my silver angel
wing drop earrings that had been a twenty first birthday present
from my Irish cousin, Aoife. I always wore earrings, feeling naked
if I went out without them. The pair I was wearing today were a
personalised design that Aoife’s husband Sean had made for me. He
was a very talented silversmith with his own workshop, trying to
make a living by selling his handmade jewellery to tourists in the
little town of Kinsale where they lived in Southern Ireland. Well,
these earrings could be my lucky talisman. I had a feeling I was
going to need all the help I could get today.

I took a deep
breath as I entered the lift, trying my best to dismiss the
butterflies in my stomach, and pressed the button for the top
floor. I ignored the phone that started ringing in the office as I
was walking out because whoever it was, I didn't have time to
answer it right now. It was most likely Simon again, worrying like
the old woman he was. He’d probably have a heart attack at the
thought of the tea girl possibly being about to pitch to his
precious Mr. Starr.

Of course, in
true top executive style, I knew Liam Starr was going to have a
huge office on the top floor, and of course he was going to have
wonderful views across London. I’d never been up there before, but
I just knew that’s how it would be. But I refused to be
intimidated. I pulled my shoulders back and took a deep breath to
calm myself.
You can do this. Just pretend he’s a college
lecturer. He’s nobody special.

The lift doors
opened, and I stepped out, my arms full of folders and flip charts
as well as a lap top.

“And who might
you be?”

The woman I
took to be Liam Starr’s PA was standing there waiting impatiently,
her arms folded, her lips pursed. She was blonde, looked to be in
her forties, and was wearing the statutory black trouser suit with
the statutory white silk blouse. Elegant, but oh so boring.

“Seraphina
Jones. From Simon Draper’s Creative Team. I’m here to set up the
presentation,” I explained.

“You’re
cutting it a bit fine. Mr Starr does not appreciate being kept
waiting,” she snapped as she led the way. I didn't bother to argue,
or make any comment about the strike that had affected everyone’s
journey to work today.

I was led into
a meeting room, which was not quite as big as I was expecting, but
I guessed that was probably because there were not going to be that
many attendees to this meeting. I realised I had no idea of what
kind of audience I was about to pitch to, but never mind. I’d just
focus all my attention on the Big Boss.

All the
furniture was light beech and chrome, the walls were white; even
the thick luxurious carpet was white. There were no pictures on the
walls. And yes, the windows framed an impressive view of London.
The Starr Capital offices looked out onto the Bishopsgate financial
district, so there was a great view of the iconic Gherkin building
set amongst the other modern and stark buildings.