A couple days later, I found myself walking into my firm’s building in New York’s iconic Financial District, clad in my deep chocolate-brown trousers and matching blouse with my favorite pair of Christian Louboutin heels—the medium camel-brown So Kate 120 mm leather pumps. From outside, the building mirrored many of the others around it: towering skyscrapers either adorned with tons of glass or aluminum or art-deco remnants from the 1920s.
Inside, however, it was an arborist’s dream sight to behold, featuring almost a maze of rows and quadrants of stone and wooden benches flanked by the greenest, most plush bushes and potted trees I’d ever seen not in an actual park. In an area of town that surely leaned into the mystique of the concrete jungle, this green oasis was a stark disruption from the sidewalks filled with more people than plants.
Finally, set off to the back of the atrium and flanked by a row of lifts was the concierge desk, there for any guests who needed to be checked in or, in my case, employees who had yet to receive their entry badges. With a quick glance at my watch to check the time, I sauntered my way to the back, received my guest pass and walked to the nearest lift that would carry me to my new office. By the time I arrived on the twenty-second floor, I’d steadied my breathing enough to walk through the doors of our firm with my head held high and ready to meet all the top players in America.
I stepped toward the receptionist’s desk and noticed that the clock had just struck 7:30 a.m. Good job, Liv, I thought, patting myself on the back in my head. Way to start this new adventure off right.
One thing I had vowed when I’d said yes to New York was that these new people I’d be working with would never be able to say they saw me slacking off, ever. Showing up just as the sun rose in the sky, even as I was still trying to adjust to the time difference, was step one in my plans. Now I just needed to meet the man who would hand me my first American portfolio, set up shop in my new office and hopefully find my own version of Robin when I inevitably made my way to the kitchen for some coffee.
“Cheers,” I said, walking up to the receptionist, a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties and rocking the cutest little short bob of red hair. “I’m Olivia Robinson, and I’m here to meet with Walter Cody.”
“Oh, hi, Olivia! It’s very nice to meet you,” she greeted me in return. “Walter just walked in as well, so let me call him back here for you. It’ll probably just be a minute.”
“Sure, thank you!”
I watched as she dialed Walter on the phone, waited for him to pick up and then politely explained I was waiting at the front desk for him. I could only barely make out his end of the conversation, but it sounded like he was a bit floored and hadn’t expected me to get there around the same time as he did. Little did he know this was the very least of the surprises I had in store.
“He’s coming now,” she said, hanging up the phone and turning her attention back to me.
“Thanks! I guess he wasn’t expecting me?”
“To be honest, it’s usually just me and him here for the next hour,” she replied with a shrug.
“Hmm. Well, go ahead and count me as number three. I might be here with coffee, but I’ll be here.”
“Ha ha, good to know. We have tea in the kitchen, too, if you prefer?”
“I do enjoy a cuppa tea,” I replied with a wink, letting her know that I caught her attempt at trying to make the new British woman feel comfortable. “But not for early mornings. That requires French roast, dark, with a few teaspoons of sugar.”
“Noted,” she said, laughing. “For what it’s worth, I agree.”
“I can see we’ll get along swell. What’s your name, by the way? I apologize for not asking before.”
“Oh, that’s okay. It’s Wendy!”
She paused and watched me gather myself as I was sure my face completely gave away my very tickled reaction. Then, after a beat, she shrugged her shoulders, patted the bottom of her bright red hair and said, “I know, it’s funny.”
“There are worse ways to make an impression,” I replied.
“I’ll remember that the next time some weird guy on one of the dating apps makes a joke about loving their four-for-four deal with a junior bacon cheeseburger.”
“Oh, no, Wendy. No.”
Why are some men on dating apps so weird? I wondered. Ugh. If nothing else, I was glad at least to not be worrying about that at all. No need for dating apps when you weren’t planning to date.
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “And I wish that was the worst joke I’ve heard.”
“Wendyyyy!”
I moved closer to the front desk and grabbed her hands in horror for what else she could have possibly endured simply because her parents must have seen her red hair and thought, Wouldn’t it be cute or funny to name her after the little fast-food girl?
“I know, I know. Commiserate with me!”
She held my hands tightly and dropped her head onto the desk, inciting one of those guttural laughs from us both that helps to fully wake you up in the morning. Since the floor was so quiet, with no one else around to mask them with the natural noise that came from a bustling office, our outcries reverberated through the walls of the lobby just in time to practically slap Walter in the face as he walked up on us.
“I see you’ve met Wendy,” he said with a straight face and his hand outstretched to meet mine. “I’m Walter.”
I dropped my hands from Wendy’s and turned around slowly to properly greet my new boss. “Hello, Walter. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he replied, straightening out his posture even as he spoke. “I apologize—I didn’t realize you’d be getting here at this time, or I would have had everything ready for you.”
I watched Walter closely as he ran his hands through his blond hair in what seemed like a sort of nervous fidget. He was certainly dressed in what Reagan had warned me was the typical New York–finance guy’s uniform—dark blue suit, light blue button-down shirt underneath and camel-brown hard sole shoes—but I wasn’t getting the arrogance from him that she’d said usually came with it. Straitlaced demeanor that indicated he would never be caught dead laughing with Wendy in the lobby? Yes. But outside of that, he seemed, well, fairly normal.
“Do you need more time? I’m in no rush,” I said, deciding to give him an out and to let him know I wasn’t judging him. Technically, he was my supervisor, so if anything, I should have been the one looking nervous while meeting him. “It’s just that when we spoke, you said that you normally arrive around this time, so I figured I should, too.”
“No, you’re fine. I appreciate the initiative, I do. And we’re all very excited to have you with us. We’ve heard some pretty amazing things, haven’t we, Wendy?”
It was the first time he’d acknowledged her since walking up to us, which seemed to catch her off guard as much as it did me.
“Hmm,” she said, looking up and trying to restrain a small giggle. “Oh, yes. Lots of great things.”
Walter ran his hands through his hair some more, his now telltale sign that things weren’t going according to his plans.
“Right,” he said, looking off to the side. “Why don’t I show you where your office is, let you get settled and then I can come by a little later and give you the full tour. I think you’ll find that the layout is pretty similar to what you’re used to in London. We have four floors in this building—a trading floor, C-suite floor, this one’s for us in portfolio management and then, of course, there’s a floor for the RFP and marketing teams.”
“Perfect—I’m looking forward to learning my way around,” I replied. “Just one small request? Can you also point out the kitchen to me? I’d love a French roast sooner than later.”
“Oh, of course. Not a problem.”
Walter paused as if he was waiting for me to ask him something else. When I didn’t, the look of relief on his face was palpable.
“Well, shall we?” he asked, pointing me in the direction away from the lobby.
“Sure.”
I turned to Wendy once more and waved. It was obvious Walter seemed concerned that he hadn’t been waiting for me in the lobby when I’d arrived, but truthfully, I was thankful she’d been the first of the two I’d met. She wasn’t going to be the Robin to my Liv, but I had a feeling we were going to get along a lot better than stiff ol’ Walter.
I’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes, she mouthed.
“Deal,” I whispered before turning back around and nodding my readiness to Walter.
Step-by-step, I followed him as he walked me into the rest of the floor, past the sea of tall cubicles for the junior staff and over to the surrounding walls of glass offices reserved for senior employees. As we turned to our right, I caught a glimpse at what looked to be his office in the corner, immaculately bland except for the multiple stacks of papers on his desk. That seemed about right.
We walked by another four offices before we finally got to mine: pristine, empty and cold.
“And here we are,” he said, motioning toward it like my own Vanna White.
I stepped into the space and scanned it quickly, immediately contemplating how I could give it my own flair and make it more me. I’d need to get a painting for the main wall at least—something vibrant that reminded me of home—or maybe I could even convince my brother to send me a canvas of one of his photos. Then, I might also bring in some framed pictures of friends and family and even a plant I’d try to keep alive for at least a month.
As I strode in further, I noticed a coat hanger in the corner and a double-screen monitor and MacBook on my desk, plus a sticky note with a few predetermined passwords I could use and then tailor to my own. The tech items were each positioned so that, while seated, the window facing outside would be on my right and the glass doors looking back into the rest of the floor would be on my left. I’d need to see if that worked for me once I got a little more settled, but for now, it would do. No need to really freak Walter out and start moving furniture on my first day in the office. He already clearly didn’t quite know how to be a normal human being around me.
“So, this is it?” I turned back to him, wondering if he had more information that he wanted to detail for me.
“This is it,” he replied with a shrug. “But I can still show you the kitchen and where the women’s restroom is, of course.”
“That would be great—thanks.”
“And then we’ll have our first meeting in the main conference room at eight thirty, so I can introduce you to everyone there and give you the full tour afterward. Maybe, if you’re comfortable, you can talk about some of the lessons you and Frank learned from such a successful fundraising effort with your social impact fund. I think our teams are eager to see how we can use what you both did as a model.”
“I’d love that,” I replied, realizing this had been the most words Walter had used with me yet. “And I’m totally comfortable talking about our experience launching that fund and the multiple others that have been successful since.”
The last part of my statement was a small addition to his, but I needed Walter to understand he wasn’t getting a one-trick pony here. The recognition on his face as he took in my words let me know that he understood what I was saying—we’d done so much more than that first social impact fund, and I was prepared to talk about it all. Before we stepped back out of the office, I hung up my cherry-red coat with its wide, turned-down collar and belt at the waist, placed my workbag onto my desk and grabbed my mobile phone. As we made our way to the kitchen, I took my opportunity to quickly text Reagan.
Me: Hey, Rae! I know I was on the fence about it before, but on second thought, let’s definitely go to that party this weekend.
She responded before I had time to even black out my screen. Thankfully, Walter wasn’t exactly what one would call a Chatty Patty, so I was able to read her response and text back without him even noticing that my attention wasn’t solely on him.
Reagan: Well, we were always going, but I’m glad you came around instead of me having to drag you out there, ha ha. What made you change your mind, though?
Well... I replied hesitantly. I just got to my job, and girl, I don’t think I’m going to find my Robin here. I did meet one young lady who seems nice, but I get the feeling I’m going to have to really connect with my people outside of the office.
Reagan: I hear you, sis, loud and clear. And don’t worry, I got you. Just one question: What size shoe do you wear?
I looked up from my phone just in time to catch Walter silently pointing out the women’s bathroom and mouthed a quick thank-you in reply. A few moments later, however, he finally perked up as we made our way into the kitchen, looking at me with an awkward but distinct grin on his face. I hadn’t had a chance to respond to Reagan yet, but I had a feeling that I’d have plenty of time to do so once I was back in my office. I locked my phone and slid it into my pants pocket just as Walter realized he needed to say words to me again.
“And here we are...at the kitchen.”
He was nothing if not succinct. Walter outstretched his arm and waved it around to emphasize where we were, which all came off just as clumsily as when he showed me my new office. Off to the side, I peeped that Wendy was also in the kitchen, standing near the single-serve coffee machine and trying to hold back her giggles from our interaction. That only made it harder to keep a straight face, but I knew I needed to try. After all, he was my new boss, not Wendy.
“Thanks again, Walter. You’ve been incredibly gracious this morning,” I said. “I know you weren’t expecting me here so early, so if you want to head back to your office, you can. I think I can take it from here now.”
“Thanks, Olivia,” he replied.
I wasn’t sure whether it was relief that shone on his face or if he was genuinely touched by my response, but something about what I’d said produced the first relaxed smile from him I’d seen all morning. Either way, I was going to happily take the win.
“Great. Then I’ll see you at 8:30 a.m.”
And with that, Walter turned on the heels of his brown shoes and quickly disappeared out of the shared kitchen. It took Wendy just about thirty seconds—enough time to make sure he was out of earshot—before she burst out laughing.
“God, he’s so weird,” she said, passing me one of the office mugs from the cupboard. “I often have to remind myself that just because you can make a company a lot of money, that doesn’t mean you’re not a super self-conscious nerd.”
“Well, I’m hoping that it’s just jitters about meeting me for the first time. I need this next year to be a lot less stiff than the past ten minutes.”
“Don’t worry, sis. You got this.”
For some reason, Wendy’s “don’t worry” didn’t give me the same confidence that Reagan’s had. In fact, I kind of bristled at her use of the term “sis” so soon after meeting me, but I had just been joking around with her, so I shook away any thoughts of her being a bit too familiar, rinsed the mug in the sink and turned to my newfound, much younger friend and asked her possibly my most important question of the morning.
“So, Wendy, how do I make coffee in this contraption you all have?”
“Oh, it’s super easy,” she said as I watched wide-eyed while she pressed what looked like eighteen buttons before the steaming-hot liquid began to pour into my cup. That would be something I would need a greater tutorial on eventually, but for today, I was just happy to see coffee coming my way soon.
“You need anything else?” she asked.
“No, but thank you. This right here, when it’s done, will be more than enough for now.”
Another twenty minutes later, I’d changed what felt like fifty passwords, made sure that my email and files were all synced from the UK and onto my new laptop, and desperately tried not to second-guess my decision to leave the job I’d only started less than a year ago to come to America as part of some foolish plan to wow a bunch of people in a country I’d never been to and convince everyone I deserved a senior-level position. If my interactions so far were any indication, I was going to have my work cut out for me. While Wendy wanted to be my best friend before she even knew my middle name, Walter could barely look me in my eyes, and I’d yet to see anyone else even show up in the office yet. Bang-up job so far, Liv.
After some slight pouting, I took in a deep breath and refocused myself, determined to do what I set out to do. Kicking ass and taking names wasn’t always going to be awkward-interaction free, I reminded myself, but it was still the ultimate goal. I also recalled that I’d yet to text Reagan back, so I scooped up my phone and quickly tried to rectify at least that one mistake.
Sorry, sorry! I typed as fast as I could. I didn’t mean to go that long without responding to you.
Once again, she texted back immediately.
Reagan: Please, there’s no need to apologize. You are at work.
And so are you, I responded. That’s no excuse.
Reagan: Negative. I never get to work this early. It’ll probably be another hour and a half before I stroll into my office. But also, give yourself a break, Liv. Again, I know you’re at work, so I’m not stressing over here like why didn’t she respond to me? That would be ridiculous.
Me: Wow, must be nice...and okay, thanks for that reminder.
Reagan’s comments reminded me of my brother’s, who was always saying that I put a lot of pressure on myself to show up perfectly for everyone all the time. I was sure he would have agreed with her in this moment.
Reagan: Well, on the flip side, you all make far more money than us writers, so I think it evens out lol
Me: Fair!
Reagan: Back to the important topic, though. Shoe size, please.
Me: Oh, I wear a size 6.
Reagan: Wow, really?! I didn’t realize you had such small feet! lol
Me: Wait, shoot, I forgot it’s different here. Umm...
I paused to remember the conversion in my head.
Me: I think it’s an 8 in the US.
Reagan: Okay, Liv, you just won over my heart. I, too, am a size 8. This is going to be so good!
Right after Reagan’s text, she also sent over a GIF of Steve Harvey as a judge on his daytime TV show repeating her last words, which made me laugh a lot louder than I’d expected it to. And because my luck was what it was that morning, I finally saw a few people walk toward their desks just as I realized they probably heard my outburst. I quickly stood up, went to close my door and sat back down before replying.
Me: Okay, well now I’m excited, too lol
Reagan: Oh, you should be. This means you totally have to come over to shop in my shoe closet before we go to the party.
Me: Wait, you have a shoe wardrobe...in New York City?
Reagan: Well, I have something I made into one. Don’t worry, you’ll get to see it.
Me: Of course you do. And okay, I’m looking forward to it.
I looked up again and noticed it was a few minutes to eight thirty and I should start heading to the conference room. I already had my spiel ready to go in my head. Now it was time to do all the wowing I’d been planning on when I’d first arrived.
Me: All right, babes, I need to head to this meeting. But thanks again for everything! Talk soon.
Reagan: Have a great day, girl. And btw, has anyone ever mentioned you thank people a whole lot? Don’t answer. Just think about it.
Ha. Well, Reagan didn’t know it, but she was the second person who’d said as much in a few days’ time. Maybe they were both onto something, but remembering the first person to call it out only served to bring back flashbacks of Thomas’s deviously dangerous and dimpled smirk. And there was no way that I needed that kind of distraction on my mind.
I took in another deep breath, stood up, straightened out my back and gave myself one last internal pep talk before grabbing my laptop and heading toward my glass office door.
This was it.
My moment.
And I wasn’t letting Walter’s awkwardness, Wendy’s overfamiliarity, Reagan’s incredible shoe wardrobe or visions of Thomas’s grin get me off my game.
With my renewed sense of confidence, I stepped out of the office and strode past the gaggle of cubicles that lined the walkway to the main conference room on our floor. To my left, I heard people as they began shuffling their belongings around their desks, as they greeted their colleagues “Good morning,” and even as they click-clacked away on their computers. I could see a few of them also begin to gather their laptops and pens and paper, presumably preparing to head to the same meeting I was off to.
By the time I arrived at the glass-enclosed office space, decorated with only a large cedarwood conference table in the middle and rows of ergonomic office chairs flanking it plus one lonely side table with a plant on top, only two other people were seated. I casually glanced at my watch to see if I’d had the time wrong before greeting them. Nope—according to my clock, at least, it was 8:28 a.m.
“Oh, you’ll see everyone pile in here in a few,” the first woman said, likely noticing the concerned look on my face. “Most people here believe in being on time but not necessarily early.”
“Good to know,” I replied, and immediately realized how that correlated with Walter’s consternation about my early arrival this morning. “I’m Olivia Robinson, by the way.”
I stuck out my hand to shake hers as she returned the favor.
“Julie,” she said, gripping my hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia. Walter has told us a lot about you.”
“Really?” I asked, perplexed.
For someone who’d barely spoken more than a hundred words to me this morning, I had a hard time grasping that he’d been over here extolling my efforts prior to my arrival. And yet Julie was the second person who’d said as much. There seemed to be plenty I needed to better understand in America. For example, in my very Jamaican family, if you were just on time, you were late. Basically, the exact opposite of what seemed to be the culture in our New York office. Then again, my parents and their siblings were trying to combat decades of stereotypes about Black people in the UK as part of the Windrush generation. No one in this office, from what I’d seen thus far, came from anything close to a similar background or understanding.
True to Julie’s word, people began strolling into the office less than a minute later. So, with no real guidance about hierarchy, I made a quick decision to sit in the chair that seemed the least likely to cause any issues—definitely not at the head of either side of the table, but also not too far away from at least one of them. The one I chose—third on the left from what I guessed was Walter’s seat, the head of the table on the right side of the conference room—was a gamble, but I figured it was better than sitting smack-dab in the middle or off to the side in the chairs that were the stepchildren of the room.
Luckily for me, my gamble paid off. Because just a few moments later, Walter also arrived and plopped down right into the seat I’d guessed was his. Once he settled in, opening his laptop and adjusting into his seat, he looked around to make sure everyone else was seated, scanning the room until he landed on me. And then, in yet another surprise, he smiled, nodded his head and mouthed Welcome to me once again.
It was as if the person I’d met an hour earlier had been some sort of off-brand clone and this was the real Walter Cody, commanding all the attention in the room, not seeming to be at all awkward and, oddest of all, helping to welcome me into the office among a room full of strangers when he barely even looked me in my eyes while we were by ourselves. Maybe he was just really good at rising to the occasion when he absolutely needed to, I thought. I certainly hoped I had that in me as well—but without the opposite-clone part.
“Good morning, everyone, and happy Monday,” Walter began, quieting the room without raising his voice. “I know we have a lot to cover today, but first I want to introduce you to the star of the UK, the person I’ve been telling you about for weeks, Ms. Olivia Robinson. Olivia, as you know, will be joining us for the next year, and while she’ll probably start off with one or two portfolios at first, I want to have her eyes on all of them by the time she leaves. I think we’ll all be able to benefit from her perspective and her expertise, and if we can’t convince her to stay—because that is also a goal of mine, Olivia—then we can at least send her off in the best way possible, with several millions of dollars raised under her watch.”
Walter’s break in the middle of his speech, wherein he spoke directly to me, completely threw me off and, just for a second, threatened to distract me from what I’d been planning to say. But he had on his best “command of the room” mask, so come hell or high water, I was going to as well.
“Hi, everyone,” I said after clearing my throat just a bit. “I’m really so excited to be here. And thank you, Walter, for such a gracious introduction. I hope to live up to those lofty words.”
“You will,” he replied with a nod. “Olivia, I know we talked about this earlier, but I’d love it if everyone could hear from you on how you have grown multiple funds in the UK from ones that were pretty niche to multimillion-dollar investments.”
“Sure. I’d love to,” I said, adjusting myself in my seat to make sure that everyone around the table could see and hear me clearly. I noted that he’d changed his language from just being that I’d succeeded with the one investment fund, so at the very least, he was really good at listening and taking notes.
“Before I dig in, however, let me just start by acknowledging that nothing Frank and I have done this past year is revolutionary, really. What you are going to hear me talk about, and what you’ll hear me preach every day that I’m here, is that we listened to our clients, we worked very hard to identify the pieces they didn’t realize they were missing and we executed on that with creative ideas. Nothing more, nothing less. For one portfolio, that amounted to us getting one hundred thirty percent of the investors we were expecting and exceeding our fundraising goal by one hundred fifteen percent. I’m here today with you all, however, not because we did that once but because we have reached at least those metrics eight times since.”
I paused and looked around the room to get a gauge of my audience and saw that, to a person, they were each staring at me wide-eyed and eager to learn more. Maybe I’d misjudged how things were going to go this morning after all because what I now knew to be true was that as much as I was looking forward to making a name for myself this year, they all needed me here, too. And that wasn’t exactly a bad position for this expat to be in.
“So, let’s jump in to talk about how we did that.”
For the next fifteen minutes, I explained my approach to life and how it had seemingly resonated in our investment world: I always went the extra step, yes, but more importantly, I studied my clients, my friends, my colleagues...and learned them to a T. I had literal folders upon folders of background information on each client, which I painstakingly pored through before I ever offered even a morsel of advice. It was how I’d known that first social impact fund had needed high-quality photos and a dynamic website to really resonate with our target audience. And it was what I wanted everyone in my new office to commit to do at least while I was there.
When I paused to see if anyone had questions, I looked around the room and saw each person taking notes, even Walter—whether on their laptop or in their notepad—meticulously jotting down all that I was saying so they wouldn’t lose any of it.
Maybe these were my people after all, I thought. Things were certainly trending in a better direction—that was for sure.