Sipping at my cherry coke, I shook my head. "That's not what I mean, Margaret. I just..." I exhaled loudly, shrugging. "I know Toby'd be lost without me, I just feel like a glorified secretary."
"You *are* a secretary," Margaret replied calmly, stirring her green tea.
"I'm not!" I protested. "I'm supposed to be an assistant, we all are, but Donna's the only one who ever goes anywhere. God, just once, I want him to hand me something important and say 'I know you can do it, Ginger'. I want him to trust me."
Margaret shook her head slowly. "Toby doesn't trust anyone. It's not just you."
"I know." I sighed again, my frustration tightening my chest. "I just know I'm capable of so much more and I want the opportunity to prove it."
Margaret stood, resting her hand on my shoulder. Giving it a tiny squeeze, she comforted, "You will, don't worry. Just give it time."
"Three years isn't
time?" I muttered to myself when Margaret was gone.
* * *
I felt so bad for Ginger.
The poor girl was giving this job everything she had and unfortunately, she
worked for the one man who could be counted on not to voice his appreciation
for it. After checking his schedule, I knocked on Leo's door, interrupting
his corned beef sandwich. "Leo," I began, "It's time to
evaluate our assets." I shut the door and explained the situation to
him. I doubt the rest of the staff can appreciate it, but after ten
years, we've developed a personal relationship of a sort. He's still the
same brusque personality, but when I sit him down for a talk, Leo honestly
listens. He knows I don't bring him crap. I wait until an issue has
reached a boiling point, and he appreciates that. So when I told him
that, in my opinion, Ginger was on the verge of quitting, Leo blanched.
He knew as well as I did how hard Toby was to work with, and finding him a new
assistant was the last thing Leo wanted to attempt, especially in the middle of
preparing our first White House Resolution.
* * *
I laughed softly as I read the memo. Printing it out, I slipped into Toby's empty office and planted it on top of his laptop, where he'd be sure to see it. I left Sam's copy in his inbox; if he saw it, fine. Sam wasn't the problem.
The changes came slowly, here and there. Toby took Leo's admonition to heart. He was now 'utilizing personnel and services' which were 'chronically underappreciated and undervalued.' I had to smile at Margaret's choice of words. Finally, I was getting a little more of the work I'd wanted.
The flowers were over the top, though. I assumed they were a thank-you from Tabatha Fortis and only skimmed the name on the card. I blinked twice before seeing my own name. Opening it, I read the cramped, distinctive handwriting. 'Ginger, I'm glad you didn't quit. Take Friday off for this.' I flipped the card over. Taped to the back were two tickets to Disney on Ice at the MCI Center. My eyes watered and I had to chuckle out loud. In three years, Toby had never asked about my personal life, but now he'd given my son and me tickets for an ice show. I simply shook my head.
THE END
