Job Wanted

When I signed on to be his "assistant", I prepared myself for shuffling papers, coffee runs and tedious tasks. I thought I would be sitting at a desk, watching as the hours pass by, mind numbingly slow, while trying to maintain a semi-decent composure. I wasn't really prepared for what my real job requirements would be.

He came in the first day, all smiles and good cheer, handing me a coffee.

“Mocha latte okay?" He asked, handing me the seasonally decorated cup, a jovial grin on his face. I took the cup, blank faced and utterly confused. Maybe I read the wrong job details? Maybe I was supposed to be telling him what to do?

I scanned my emails and, to my dismay, he was still the boss and I was still the assistant, only more confused than I was when I first walked in.

He swept towards his desk, dropping a coat on the floor, a briefcase near his desk, and a celphone on top of a pile of papers.

            “Rachelli, come in here please.”

            Making every effort to live up to the dutiful assistant I intended to be, I hurried into his office. The disarray I saw it in shocked me, when only moments earlier it had been spotless. I worked tirelessly before he came to make sure everything was in pristine order. Clearly his brain didn’t operate on “clean-mode.” I made a mental note to remember that, so I could avoid wasting precious time organizing his office.

            “I need you to do something for me,” he began, taking his eyes off his computer as he spoke.

            “Ok...” I replied, getting slightly nervous.

            “I doubt you’ll find it listed in your job requirements. It’s going to require some more skill... and creativity. And a bit of risk. Think you can handle that?” He asked, eyeing me cautiously. Eager to please, I nodded my head excitedly.

            Mr. Fried, or Josh, as he wished I called him, was a young entrepreneur, a bright mind with a lot of energy, creativity and drive. His father was the owner of the largest real estate agency in the city, and Josh seized the chance to get in the field. He bought houses, remodeled them, and sold them for nearly triple their original price, effectively becoming incredibly wealthy simply by having a great “in” in the business, and more charisma than any one person should have. His ability to hype people got him far. Contractors vied for his jobs because he was just so much fun to work with. Having daddy’s money to start him up helped him on his feet, and now he was buying at least one house a week, remodeling them in a few weeks, and selling for a nice profit. When I saw the ad he placed, looking for an assistant/secretary, it seemed like a great oppurtunity. Now I was starting to wonder what I got myself into.

            “I need you to scout a house for me. It’s supposed to be a real steal, but if anyone sees me there, it’ll be bad news. Can you do this for me?” He asked, his eyes opened wide, pleading. As his assistant, wasn’t this part of my job? Could I say no?

            “Sure.” He smiled. I swallowed all the saliva in my mouth, feeling it become dry in just a moment.

            What am I getting into?