His pen was so shiny. So shiny. He kept polishing it, rubbing at it. Gold plate, a gift from his mother, to congratulate him on his first real 'big boy' job. He was going to be the assistant to only one of the most powerful newspapermen in the city. He had his gold watch, he had his new suit, and he had his beautiful, gold plated pen. The world, the World, was perfect.
He'd been told to be there at six am, so he was there at five thirty, nervously sitting outside Mr. Pulitzer's office. First day at work, and he was early. Good impressions were so important, his mother always told him. So important. And he was early, and that was a good impression. Yes. And his suit was really nice. That was a good impression too.
He was on his feet the moment he heard movement at the end of the hall, nervously straightening when Pulitzer came into view, scowling down the hall.
"Who the hell are you?" The older man snarled as he opened the door to his office. "I don't have time for you."
"Oh, um...I'm Jonathan Pembermuffin. You hired me the other day? I was told to be here today at six. I know I'm a bit early, but..." Jonathan's stomach started sinking. Had the old man forgotten him already?
"Oh. Jonathan. Yes. Very busy, you know. See Seitz about your assignments." And without another word, Mr. Pulitzer slammed his office door in Jonathan's face. It was like a punch to the heart, and he fought to keep his jaw from quivering. Door, slamming in his face. No chance to show off the snappy suit. No chance to show off the shiny pen. No chance to remake that first good impression. Apparently, his impression wasn't good at all.
The other older gentleman who bustled down the hall was shaking his head when Jonathan turned to look at him.
"He's always in a mood in the morning. I'm Seitz. Let me show you to your desk, Mr. Pembermuffin."
Jonathan trailed after him, a broken man. He'd been so excited, so sure of himself when he walked into the World offices that morning, and here he was, not twenty minutes into his work day, and already his soul was crushed.
And then he saw his desk. Just a small little thing in what appeared to have once been a closet. The lighting was horrible, the chair was uncomfortable, and the room was mostly taken up by file cabinets filled with paperwork from the previous assistant, who apparently had the organizational skills of a wombat. Weeping openly was becoming a distinct possibility as Jonathan was left alone to his misery.
As he attempted to organize things, he began to daydream, the daydreams that had filled his head in the days leading up to this first day at work. The daydream where he had a proper office outside of Mr. Pulitzer's office, with a big oak desk, and a comfortable chair. The desk had his name on a nameplate, and it read 'Lord Jonathan Pembermuffin, Assistant Extraordinaire' on it. And he was. An assistant extraordinaire. Pulitzer loved him, the World loved him, and he was needed, and useful, and always had the right answers.
Yes...it was a lovely daydream...
