My name is Kate London, and I just started as an account executive at Fresh Consulting. I was brought in by Mike Whitmore–the President, and my direct boss.
On my first day I find out that Mike and I are going to be office mates. Part of the company culture is that sharing space means it’s easier to collaborate on ideas. Office doors are almost never closed. But since I haven’t shared an office with anybody since early in my career (and neither has Mike) all I can think is –Oh boy, this should be interesting.
The rest of the Fresh Consulting team, Jeff Dance (founder) and Brent Dance, former Deloitte Consulting strategy consultants, and Steve Hulet (from Amazon) who decided to go into business for themselves. They all seem very nice. Very brainy.
We seem to be a Mac shop, which is a little strange for me, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. I’m the only woman here which is, of course, normal for a small technology company. In my first hour here everybody has bombarded me with information on all the latest web applications, shortcuts on Apple products and cool projects they are working on. I guess it’s hard to hold back cool recommendations when you focus on emerging technologies.
That’s all well and good, but what I really need to know is: guys where exactly is the ladies room? When I finally find it (in the back, tucked away behind all these doors like some secret hidden attic) I have to wipe away the cobwebs.
And when I get back from lunch, I notice all of them standing around my computer with thier mouths hanging open with glazed expressions. A little anxious, I wonder if I should just pretend I don’t see this… I mean do I really want to know what’s going on? The hushed crowd parts like the Red Sea as I make my way to my desk. What is causing all these longing, lustful looks– Victoria Secret models? Britney Spears? Maybe (please God, no) a Paris HIlton video?
Nope–it’s my new Macbook Air!
Silver surface gleaming in the early autumn light, the width of a magazine, Jeff Dance (the founder of Fresh Consulting) touches the edge of it and whispers in an awed voice, “It’s like a work of art.”
Nodding as the crowd reluctanctly disperses, I turn around to wipe the drool up off the floor.