Making Mr. Valois

The automatic revolving doors of Valois Inc. hummed, granting me entrance. Each stride I took towards the reception desk filled me with a confidence I was quickly faking.

“Welcome to Valois Incorporated, My name is Bridget, how may I help you?” she smiled politely, her rehearsed words barely registering.

“Hello, my name is Alicia Petrova and I have a meeting at two with Mr. Valois,” I replied, equally polite.

Bridget’s fingers flew across her keyboard before she looked up, a slight apology in her eyes. “Ah yes, Mr. Valois is definitely expecting an Alicia Petrova, but before you can go up to his office, I need to see your I.D. please.”

I dismissed her concern, already pulling my driver's license from my bag. I'd expected this; no self-respecting business would let a person roam the halls without proof of identity. She glanced at it, then handed me a visitor's pass.

“The pass opens the elevator, just swipe across the red light on the side. Mr. Valois’ office is on the thirty-first floor, his secretary Heather will give you further instructions. Have a great rest of your day.”

“Thank you, and you also.” My mind was already elsewhere, focused on the opportunity of a lifetime. I couldn't screw this up. I wouldn't. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and I took a shaky breath, all my earlier confidence quickly decimating. This was it.