Miss Denmark

I pushed open the door and stepped into the life on Manhattan. Dad wouldn't understand why I loved this. To be a part of something without being someone. I followed the sidewalk, avoided people and turned left by the first block.

Right at the following corner and three additional blocks. And I reached the building.

It was a bit intimidating. Scary. Those were my words in the moment.

I pushed the glass door open and was in the air-conditioned space. I wasn't doing just legs – even though it was summer. The air condition had me freezing, if I didn't wear proper clothing. I wore a shirt and even though everything might be a bit tight fitting, it wasn't revealing. I had a cardigan in my bag. This office was cold.

I scanned my card and smiled at the guard who always had a twinkle in the eye. He called me Miss Denmark if he said anything. My middle name was Danmark, something I'd never really used because I had a last name. Kirkegaard. Not that that name was any better, now I hadn't studied philosophy or psychology.

I went to the line by the elevators and waited until I got the chance.

A group was sent up.

I checked the time on my phone. Fifteen minutes early. If I was desperate I could always take the stairs.

My boss wasn't too pleased about my lack of high heels, and I did bring them if I had a meeting or something. I hadn't brought any today, but I had left a pair at the office. Maybe I should just keep them here? Just in case? I wouldn't be able to have my feet trapped in high heels all day.

I was first in line to the following elevator.

As if on cue, the dark haired, suit wearing man came. He had brown hair, and he was constantly busy whenever he was around. I had never seen him other places but I hoped he had time off from time to other.

I noted the security guard next to him. He wore a suit, black, and watched the people who waited in line. That is, the security guard watched us.

The man, he was looking after, probably owned the building, but I wasn't a hundred percent sure. He wore a charcoal gray suit, and he ran his fingers through his hair before fisting his hand in his neck hair.

Had he perhaps lost a few cents at the stock market?

I didn't work for him. My boss had rented office space in the building. I worked here. I was a graphic designer as well as helping to create advertisements. Creativity in regard to advertisement was my strength. And then I was a gramma Nazi with a capital G, so I'd had a job as proofreader on translated books during my weekends.

The advertising business was my dream. I loved to design small quirky advertisements, and sometimes also book covers. It was not bad.

The elevator arrived with a loud pling in the silent line.

Charcoal gray suit went in followed by his security guard.

"Four more people," the guard said.

So accompanied by three others I went into the elevator. Only once before had I went up the lift with him. He was looking at his phone, eventually exchanging a word with the guard.

I pushed the number nine, the number fifteen, twelve and five were also pressed. And then he probably had to go all the way to the top? What did I know?

We stopped at the fifth floor, one left one entered and we reached the ninth floor.

The elevator came to a halt, I got out and entered the ninth floor reception. The door fell shut behind be as I entered the office. I scanned my card before entering and came to my desk.

There was a post-it note on my computer.

My office

Yup. I took off my ballerina's and stepped into the heels. I'd brought them here because I didn't want to carry them back and forth every day. Wasn't that okay? I probably should purchase another pair so I had something to change into. But that was too simple? My thoughts didn't make much sense today.

I turned on the computer and went to my boss' office.

I knocked on the door and pushed it open.

My thoughts were set to English.

"Come in," she said and looked up from her screen.

I went inside, shut the door and sat down across from her. Her desk was between us.

"I would like to, once we reach next year, to have you take classes so you are better qualified to look at and be involved in the idea development for the advertisements." She said.

Slowly I nodded.

"I'm saying this now," she continued. "Because it will cost money. You pay." She said. "If you choose to take it, and complete and pass, you will get a small raise."

I nodded. "What's the price?" I asked. Just to be sure.

She pushed her specs up her slim nose. "I'll send an email," she said. "Please have an answer ready by tomorrow."

I nodded.

She pushed the specs up her nose again. Either it was a nervous habit or just a bad habit. "You have an advertisement form a Chinese company. It doesn't hit its target audience in the United States so I was hoping you and Juan could get together and make something of it? Involve Courtney if you need an extra hand." She said and looked at me. Her hair was frizzy, afro hair, her eyes dark, her skin dark. "I would like to see where you can take it, as the product is very popular in Europe and Asia, but you've got the rest of the week," she mumbled.

I nodded. "Super!" I said. We had made an agreement, already the first day, that we wouldn't be formal towards one another. It would be forced as there weren't more than five years between us. She was older than I was.

She smiled and I stood.

I went back to the open–plan office, kicked off the heels and logged into my tablet. It was so much easier when we had to work together in a group. I stepped into my flats and went to the conference room with Juan who had been briefed.