by Dawn Edwards
I HAVE NEVER BEEN a big believer in luck. I’d had to work for everything my entire life. My ethos was a strong work ethic. If there was such a thing as luck, I made my own.
This interview could make or break me.
I was dressed in my suit, looking professional and pretending to be confident as I walked into the large open-spaced lobby of the successful private jet company headquarters, Cahill Global. The large office complex was just west of Boston and adjacent to one of the private departure terminals serving the city; both were in need of a face lift, and I was hoping that I would be the man to do just that.
The reality was, I was nervous as fuck, and for the first time I questioned if I had what it took. The months and years of fighting to keep my head above water and my mind on the goal were starting to wear me down. I could feel it long before I made the leap to leave England and try to start fresh in America.
The reception area was dated and sterile, giving a lackluster impression. A smartly dressed, middle-aged female receptionist sat behind a large desk, with little on it aside from a laptop and some catalogues. ‘Good afternoon, you must be Andrew.’ She smiled at me professionally.
She didn’t make any movement to stand, so I walked up next to the desk, holding my black leather portfolio case. I looked the part, like I could possibly play in the big leagues with the men of money, power and influence. Even if my rusty green, 1998 Dodge Caravan I’d purchased a few weeks ago off Craigslist was parked at the end of the lot, next to an Audi.
‘Yes, I’m here to see Mr. Cahill,’ I informed her.
She nodded politely, as if to indicate she already knew why I was here. Of course she did. ‘He’s just finishing up with a conference call. Please have a seat, he shouldn’t be much longer.’
I had met Steven Cahill once before, a few weeks ago. It was crazy to think that I was sitting here waiting to interview for an opportunity to work for such a man.
* * *
It had been a hard few years for me. But if I was being honest, the truth was, my entire life had been hard. I’d worked every day with every ounce of willpower I had, since I was old enough to know the basics of how this world worked.
I had always been a calculating person, even as a child, I’d weighed my options. But I knew I needed a change and moving to American had been the first swift decision I had ever made. The jury was still out on whether I’d made the right decision or not.
That had been just two months ago. I always figured myself a clever bloke; I had a university degree and experience in my chosen field. But as a landscape architect, arriving in a new city in the middle of February looking for work might not have been my brightest idea. When I looked back at this in ten years, I knew it wouldn’t be one of my shining moments, but it would highlight my determination – that’s for damn sure.
I think I had applied to every company in the New England area, and answered every help wanted ad on Craigslist. I had been hoping with the spring and summer, my prospects would increase, either in landscaping or construction, which I had plenty of experience in also.
I took a few odd jobs here and there, basically any job I could get. Even doing projects around the house I was staying in when I first arrived in lieu of board.
After a month, I finally got a call from a small family-owned company who were paying me minimum wage for a six-hour work day, when I was working for at least eight hours each day. Little money was better than no money. I was in my third week with them.
I kept to myself; they spoke Spanish and enough English to tell me what needed to be done. I did my work—and theirs—in hopes of getting a reference when another prospect came my way.
Little did I know at the time, that prospect would come wearing a designer three-piece suit.
‘Excuse me, do you speak English?’ a middle-aged man carrying a briefcase, wearing said three-piece suit asked, approaching me.
I nodded. ‘Being British, I’d hope so, seeing as my people invented the language, sir,’ I told him, smiling. He gave me a surprised look. ‘How may I help you today?’ I asked him.
‘Ah, yes, I hear it now. Yes, you are actually the one I’m looking to speak to. I was wondering if you had a few moments.’ I looked over to the three other guys on my crew, stopping their work, or perhaps, they were just standing around in hopes I’d move fast enough to get their work done also.
‘To be honest, I wish I did, but I’m afraid I don’t.’ I looked at him apologetically, then to the rest of the guys.
‘I think I can make it worth your time,’ the man told me. I looked back to my crew, my foreman sitting on the back of his truck drinking his Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. If he spent half the amount of time doing actual work as he did on coffee runs, we would have been finished our jobs a lot quicker, and I wouldn’t have to spend at least two extra hours each day—unpaid—finishing up his work.
‘Your team recently did the flight support lot.’ He pointed down the road to the building that I looked at; they offered ground crew and fueling services for flights out of the airstrip. ‘I’m friends with George, the manager, and he specifically mentioned you, actually, and the impressive proposal you submitted to them for future consideration. That must have taken you some time, yet you gave it to him free of charge. You’ve an eye for design and quality work.’
I smiled and nodded at him, thankful for my work being appreciated. It had been my second job with this crew. I noticed a bunch of things they were doing wrong, using shortcuts, sub-par materials and being sloppy. The design, plants and layout were outdated, and I mentioned that to the manger one day when he asked how things were going. My foreman quickly interrupted and put a stop to any ideas I had to improve the overall look of his lot.
In reality, they were rough designs. I had been bored and didn’t spend more than a few hours on them one evening while listening to some mindless TV in the background. I thought of it as free marketing, and I guess it was paying off.
The man in front of me pointed to another large glass building in front of an airplane hangar, backing on to the tarmac, a few hundred meters from us, but I couldn’t make out the name on the sign. ‘I work over there, and I noticed that the past few days you were here alone at the end of the day. Holding later hours than me is telling,’ he smiled at me. ‘Our gardening team went bankrupt over the winter. I’ve seen the way you have been busting your ass working here.’ He gave the rest of my crew a questionable look.
‘They are related to the owner; they don’t need work ethic,’ I told him dryly. ‘I’m the new foreigner looking to pay my rent, without references and US work experience. It’s been a long three weeks.’
‘I’d like to see about helping you with that.’ He looked back to my crew, unimpressed. ‘Are you under contract?’
‘No, just an as-and-when kind of deal,’ I told him.
He nodded. ‘I’ll be out of town for the next three days, if you could drop off your resume, contact info and work visa documentation to my receptionist there at Cahill Global, I will be in touch.’
‘Are you serious?’ I asked, knowing I sounded a bit dumbfounded.
‘I am. I’m all about rewarding hard work and fostering talent. If your resume and references check out, I’ll be happy to discuss business with you.’ He handed me his business card and walked away.
This was a huge opportunity. After finishing our work for the day, I walked across to Cahill Global and took pictures of the buildings and grounds on my phone. I Googled the company later that night when I got home. I learned they were a luxury private jet charter and custom manufacturing company. This was a client I wanted—needed—and would welcome the recommendations to friends and business associates of my new potential employer.
I started my proposed design plans on how I could transform their plain parking lot and simple floral and outdated display into something modern and elegant, to reflect what their company represented. I also designed a simple exterior renovation to the building, with an overall integrated mo
dern design. I took my time, making it professional, with as much detail as I could give.
I spent the next two days working on the proposal, blowing off my friend Will’s insistence on hitting up the pub. I was focused and in the zone. Even when I was working, I kept thinking of ways to integrate designs.
On Wednesday, I drove to Cahill Global’s offices on my lunch break and handed the receptionist a large envelope that included my resume, a sample of my portfolio from work I’d done in England, and the proposed plans I could do to give his lot a facelift to reflect the luxury he was selling.
In my portfolio, I was sure to include both business and home landscaping photos. If he needed a personal home gardener, I’d be more than happy to do that for him also.
It was Wednesday afternoon, and Will and I were at the pub watching Chelsea in the champion’s league. We’d become good friends over the past few months. I knew him from university, but we weren’t close then. It’s not that we didn’t like each other, it was just we hung with different groups and had different majors. But now, we were both here and had more in common than most of the other guys we worked with, and generally got on well.
I bailed on him the past few days to finish my proposal, but due to rain and lightning, I was able to leave work early today to catch the game. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I took it out but didn’t recognize the number, though it was a local Boston number with a 508 area code.
‘Hello?’ I answered, making my way towards the back bathrooms where it was a bit quieter.
‘Hello, is this Andrew Cameron?’ I heard a male’s voice ask.
‘Yes, it is, how may I help?’
‘Hi Andrew, it’s Steven Cahill.’
‘Oh, hi sir, sorry, let me just move to a quieter corner.’ I basically ran to secure some privacy. ‘Hi, sorry sir, this is a bit better.’
‘Is it a bad time?’
‘No, not at all, just watching some footy… football... soccer with a mate…a friend’ I stuttered.
‘And a few pints?’ he asked.
‘Um...’ I didn’t know how to respond. Then I heard him laugh. ‘Relax, every man is entitled to sports and a few beers every now and then. I won’t keep you too long; I’m sure you’re eager to catch the game. Listen, I’ve had a look at your resume, portfolio and proposal. I’d like to sit down and pick your brain. Are you free Friday afternoon?’ he asked me.
This was an opportunity I couldn’t have ever imagined. ‘Yes, sir, absolutely.’
* * *
The day of our meeting I was so nervous.
I took a seat on one of the leather sofas. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ the receptionist asked me, shaking me from my reverie. ‘Tea, coffee, water, shot of vodka for the nerves?’ she joked.
I looked to her sitting at her desk. ‘I’m more of a whiskey man,’ I tried to joke, rubbing my already sweaty palms on my pants. ‘Is it that obvious?’
She nodded with a sympathetic smile. ‘Relax, Steve is a great guy. The fact that you got a one-to-one is impressive. You’ve secured the hardest part, now just relax. He’s a very easygoing guy.’
I couldn’t help but notice how she shortened his first name and did away with the formalities. If she was trying to make me feel better, she wasn’t helping. Looking around, I was seeking out something to study to keep me distracted when the main door I had just entered through a few minutes before opened, and a young woman entered carrying a box, trying to balance another rectangular box on top of it. I jumped up and hurried to the door to take the items from her.
‘Thanks,’ she said, looking at me, her voice hitching as she took in a deep breath, and her mouth formed the sexiest “O” I’d ever seen. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been laid for a while, but her gasp and the look in her eyes sent shock waves right to my groin. Her eyes lingered on me a few moments too long, and as she realized it, she looked over to the receptionist. ‘Can I just leave them here?’
‘Of course.’ The receptionist looked at her warmly, clearing a spot for me to place the young ladies’ things.
I placed the boxes next to the front desk and turned to the young woman. She had long blond hair, a cute, round face with green eyes. She was much shorter than I was and was a bit plump, but curvy—in a good way. She had a small waist, full hips and large breasts. She wore a black blazer, and her shirt was tight across her ample chest. Her high heels and skirt paired nicely to show off her shapely legs.
Her gorgeous big green eyes looked up to me, giving me an approving once-over, and her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink; it was endearing to see her blush, ‘A-Are you new?’
I’d never had a problem attracting women. Until I moved to America, I had been in a committed long-term relationship, but I could appreciate the suit made me more appealing than my go-to jeans and t-shirt I typically wore for a day’s work.
I smiled. ‘I’m hoping to be.’
She gave me a smile that could have knocked me over. It was genuine and told me everything I needed to know about this girl; she was sincere and sweet. She then turned to the receptionist, ‘Is my Dad free?’
‘He’s just on a call, and then he’s meeting with Andrew here.’ The receptionist looked up to me with a knowing smile, fully aware that I had just been checking out the boss’s daughter. That was enough to make the tent I was on the verge of pitching collapse.
‘Alright, have a great weekend, Trish,’ she said warmly to the receptionist, then back to me. ‘Good luck.’
I returned to sit, still nervous, but a little less so. After a few minutes, Trish’s phone rang as she was starting to put the things that had been left on her desk away. After she answered the phone, she looked up at me. ‘He’s ready to see you.’ She pointed to the stairs. ‘Top of the stairs, go right and to the end of the hall, you can’t miss him.’
The whole upstairs was glass, including the walls dividing the individual offices looking out towards the runway and the cubicle area in the front if the offices. There looked to be about five or six offices, with Mr. Cahill’s being the biggest in the corner. He waved me in as I approached his door. He stood up as I entered.
‘Andrew, nice to see you.’
‘Thank you for seeing me.’ I shook his hand and followed him to a sofa.
‘Please have a seat.’ He took off his jacket and loosened his tie. ‘Relax, it’s Friday,’ he said as he sat. His mannerisms put me at ease; he clearly wasn’t the typical millionaire businessman obsessed with formalities.
I had done my research on him. He and his business had made millions and won many awards. He was described as one of the best bosses in the country, even in a downturn market.
‘Now, Andrew, tell me a bit about yourself,’ Mr. Cahill asked me, leaning back in his seat, seeming relaxed.
I took in a deep breath and recalled the answers I’d prepared for, the typical interview questions.
‘Well, I’m 27, British, been in America for about 2 months now. I graduated with a double major in architecture and botany two years ago. I’ve been working in the landscape and construction business for 12 years…’
Mr. Cahill put up his hand and smiled. ‘Andrew, you have already told me that much in your resume. Which has impressed me, by the way, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here with me. So just relax, I want to know who the young man I’m sitting with is.’
I wasn’t prepared to talk about myself. Unlike a lot of people, I didn’t enjoy talking about myself or hearing my own voice.
‘Oh, well, um…’ I was at a loss, I laughed nervously. ‘You’d think this would be easy, no one knows me better than I do.’
Mr. Cahill nodded. ‘Well, that right there tells me you’re humble and not full of yourself. I’ll start.’ He took a sip from a glass he was holding. ‘I have an aerospace engineering degree from UMass Plymouth, then an MBA from Bridgewater. I started this business and foster it, turning it into world-renowned business in the field. I’ve been married to my wife for 27 years, and we had two children. S
ailing has always been my passion, but I don’t get out as much as I’d like. I play a lot of golf but don’t particularly like it, but in my type of business and social circles it’s unavoidable.’
‘What sports do you like?’ I asked, relaxing a bit and settling into the sofa.
‘I rowed crew at university, but that was long before you were even born.’ He laughed. ‘As far as being a spectator, I love to watch hockey and catch the occasional basketball or footballs games.’
‘No soccer?’ I asked, knowing he meant American Football.
‘Admittedly, no. It’s just not mainstream here. But I have been to some games in Europe, and I do enjoy it, watching it live is a great experience. I assume being a born-and-bred Brit, you’re a fan?’
‘It’s a religion where I come from,’ I told him, making him laugh.
‘Who’s your team?’
‘Chelsea,’ I told him. ‘An East End boy, supporting a West End team… I got a lot of slack growing up.’
We sat chatting for the better part of an hour just about random things. He looked down to his watch. ‘Well, I suppose we should discuss business. Andrew, I have to admit, I am not often impressed anymore. But your proposal really did impress me. You know my business, you’ve done your homework, and that kind of tenacity I like. I want you to redesign my lot, that of our manufacturing hangar close by, and potentially the private departures terminal—I still need to get the board to sign off on the bill.’ He winked at me. ‘We will go ahead with the exterior of the building also.’
‘Really sir?’ I asked, nearly jumping out of my suit with excitement, on the verge of giving this man a hug, and I wasn’t even a hugger.
‘Yes. But I have another proposal for you, and I want to know if you’re capable of it. If not, please let me know your shortcomings, and we can get you the correct tradesmen to assist you.’
I settled back into my seat, not knowing where he was going, and his next offer baffled me; it wasn’t anything I could have ever thought was on the table.
