The Greatest Dream of All

Do you ever have that thing where you know that you need to get up early for something, like to catch a plane, and your body will NOT let you relax? So, instead of getting the restful sleep you need ahead of a big day, you wake up every hour on the hour, stressing that you’ve overslept? Did you know that’s called ‘Disrupted Rest and Excessive Awakening Malady’? And yeah, I’ve got that malaise big time because first thing in the morning is the most crucial event of my career.

It's the Annual Associate Acceleration Convention. This is a huge Bank event where the top nine Associates present their summer project to the entire company. Each presentation is judged by the CEO and he declares one ultimate winner. The best presenter wins an early promotion and gets on the fast track to Bank Executive. This was my greatest ambition – to become a Bank Executive. Being selected as one of the top nine Associates (the only woman, I might add) meant that I was one step closer to realizing my dream.

I have overcome obstacle after obstacle to make it this far. Many people in my life have wondered why I keep at it, even my parents don’t understand my limitless drive, especially my mom. She thought my talents were better spent on building something for the community instead of climbing the corporate ladder, but she always supported me in everything I did.

But tonight, sleep is impossible to pin down. Not only can I not stay asleep, but, when I am asleep, I start having the craziest, most intense stress dreams of my life. All about failing glamorously in front of everyone at the Convention. I have conquered so many challenges, but I cannot tame my own anxiety about this one presentation! I feel trapped in a loop of restlessly conjuring fake scenarios - forgetting my lines, getting the hiccups and ‘yupping’ loudly into the mic, exposing myself in some horribly embarrassing wardrobe malfunction.

Mercifully, my alarm FINALLY does go off – the unmistakable and impossibly annoying ‘Marimba’ ringtone with chaotic and loud xylophone chimes. I shut it down, and lunge out of bed. I’m now up and alert, getting ready for work with militant precision – arming myself for the battle ahead.

Approaching the office, I am so thankful that my manager, Sarah Williams, scheduled a time to meet in her office before the big presentation. She offered to help me with last minute preparations, and to ‘get in the zone.’ This is just what I need to screw my head on straight after a night of unwanted psychedelic episodes. Even though I arrive early, the office is already buzzing with much more activity than usual. The anticipation of the big day permeates the air, and my confidence is already faltering. It feels more real than ever before. I cross the bullpen to reach the sanctuary of Sarah’s office, and I feel people staring at me as I make my way. There are no friends among the Associates, only competitors, and I now have a target on my back as someone to beat. My lower gut gurgles and twists in discomfort like I’m going to urgently need the bathroom.

I steady my breathing and I think calmly to myself: No need to panic, I’ve got time for a bathroom break. Let’s go. I adjust course so quickly that I don’t even notice that there is someone standing right next to me and in my way. My body collides into a tall figure and my hands awkwardly brush against inappropriate places on what I now realize is a man. Heat rises up my neck and face from my accidental graze. Stepping back, I see that it’s Will Puck, the winner of last year’s Convention and overall golden boy of all the Associates. The warmth on my face intensifies into the burn of a 1000 suns.

“Oh – whoa,” he looks embarrassed too, and I want to shrivel up into nothingness and disappear from all existence.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. Please excuse me,” I state flatly and put my head down to turn and give him a wide berth avoiding any further physical contact.

“Wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your personal space or anything,” Will chuckles, brushing his hand through his tousled black hair. His eyes are an intense ebony and his eyelashes angle downward to parallel his strong jawline. He is irresistibly attractive. 

“I just wanted to wish you luck at the Convention today. And to say that I’m routing for you,” he places his warm, soft hand behind my elbow and gives me a gentle squeeze. Still holding me, his eyes meet mine and I feel a sudden and brief electrical bolt surge through my core.

The intentionality of his intimacy stuns me. I cannot speak or move.

“Hey Will! What’s up, my man!” Another Associate shouts across the floor breaking the connection. Will lets go and shifts his focus away from me.

I speed away, purposely taking large strides toward the bathroom, careful to not appear like I’m rushing anywhere. Did Will Puck just caress your arm?! No way. In your dreams! You wouldn’t have a chance in hell with a guy like Will. He was just being friendly. And also - get a grip! What are you even thinking! Remember what you’re here for! Not boys!! This is the biggest day of your career! It’s a make or break situation that will serve as the keystone for reaching your goal!

I let out a large exhale when I reach the safety of the bathroom. Today, for once, I’m glad to be one of the few women in the office. The welcomed solitude in the toilets. I need to get a hold of myself before I meet with Sarah. I flush away the stress of my gut and wash my hands with overzealous force. I look up into the mirror, I pull my shoulders back and take a deep breath.

“You got this, Carol Lewis,” I say out loud, “You have done all the research. You are more than prepared. And most importantly, you believe in what you have to –“

*Flush*

Oh no! Someone else WAS in here. This cannot be happening! I must have just imagined that the other bathroom stall was empty. But now I see in the reflection behind me that the bathroom door is opening and an occupant is emerging. It’s the Chief Financial Officer – the one female executive of the Bank. She must be here for the Convention and she is seriously unimpressed to see me. I turn around to look at her and she reminds me of a human incarnation of that slug monster administrator in Monster’s Inc. I sidestep slowly to the exit of the restroom to give her space to walk to the sinks, but she saunters directly toward me.

In a nasally but very authoritative voice, she says: “Don’t let anyone shake you off your path.”

I nod slowly, trying to take in what she just said, and before I can respond, she continues: “Are you going to let me out?”

“Oh! I just thought you’d want to wash your….YES! Yes, sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Unperturbed she states: “Very good.” As she steadily steps out the bathroom.

What was that about?? I shake my head. I tell myself that whatever just happened doesn’t matter and now I need to make it to Sarah’s office.

On my way there, I see Sarah through the glass wall of her office, and, I don’t know why, but it strikes me that she looks exactly like Jennifer Connolly in her younger days of The Labyrinth. I knock and wave at her through the glass, and she nods at me to come in and take a seat.

“Oh good. You’re here,” she jumps straight into business, “First things first, did you give permission the CEO’s Admin to view your presentation link? So that she can access your file and project your presentation at the Convention?” She asks me in her usual no nonsense way.

It’s such a simple question, but it’s hitting me that she will look bad if I look bad.

“I…I…am sure I did.” My one legs starts to bounce nervously under the desk. I push it down with too much force and pull a strained look on my face.

“You don’t sound sure.”

It’s a stoic response from my manager, but the look on her face shows some concern, or maybe she’s just weirded out by my surprisingly neurotic behavior. Why am I acting like this?! This is not normal for me even during my most stressful moments.

“It’s just..I did, or I dreamed I did. I can clearly recall that I did, but… last night I had craz-” Sarah cuts me off.

“Nevermind, I’ll ping the Admin to make sure.” She pulls out her phone to message one of the busiest people in the company.

“No, Please!” I start to protest, but my manager just holds up one hand and cold stares at me to shut me down.

This is unreal! I cannot BELIEVE I am being so wildly unprofessional on this day of all days! Now Sarah has gone out of her way to check that a simple task was done with the CEO’s Admin. Everyone knows that if you irritate his Admin with trivial questions then you are certainly a goner. Good-bye to not only your job at the Bank, but goodbye following a career in finance anywhere ever again. I have this image flash up of the Admin barging into the office and chewing me out – shouting that I need to pack up my things and leave immediately.

“She got it.” My manager says coolly, “But you really need to– Hey, Lewis!”

The sound of my last name snaps me out of my daydream. It wasn’t real. I didn’t just get slaughtered by the Admin. I hard blink to refocus and look at Sarah.

“Yes?” I squeak, and clear my throat, “I mean, yes good – that’s good.”

Sarah’s look of concern deepens with her tightening mouth and furrowed eye brows. “Are you okay? I didn’t think the pressure of the Convention was going to get to you this badly…”

“Oh no, I’m good.” I excrete confidence in a constipated strain.

“Okay,” she says slowly, “let’s go over your notes, and make our way to the stage.”

The Bank has its own world class auditorium with stadium seating and high-tech screens and speaker systems. Sarah ushers me backstage and abandons me to find her seat in the audience. I am with the other eight Associates to get wired for mics. I am standing there, a nervous wreck, and I feel utterly alone. 

“The sound crew are going to control your mics from the booth, but you’ll see it’s on when this light goes green,” says the stage crew bored with his own instruction. He clearly doesn’t care about what’s at stake today.

I am the last one to present. The one who has to keep it together the longest. I am so envious of the other Associates as they return backstage simply grateful to have their presentation done and over with.

“Carol Lewis. You’re up.” The stage hand lifts his actual hand, pulling down his fingers to silently count me in.

I advance toward the stage entry point and trip on a cable –

 “Oh shit!” I blurt as I stumble.

I realize with a sense of sickening dread that my mic was on! I look up at the stage hand eyes wide with fear that I’ve just cussed out the entire Bank.

He points to my mic block tucked around my waist. I look down to see that the light is red. I’m still not live. Maybe I just imagined that the mic’s green light was on?? Regardless, a wave of reprieve washing over me, and I gather myself back up, power pose, and proceed onto the stage.

The light beams are hot on me, and while it’s hard to see, I can just make out the audience. I recognize the CEO first, then the CFO, my manager, and also my mom. My mom? Yes my mom! They must have invited our parents to the big day. What a comfort it is to see her! I knew then in that moment that I’ve been way overstressing this whole thing. This career isn’t the be all and end all. Nothing was more important than my mother’s love, and I knew she would love me no matter what. That realization served as a wind that filled my sails, and my ship launched with confidence. I see my mic light turn green, and I begin.

“Today, I’m here to talk about ‘Dangerously Dehumanizing the Customer,’ and I’d like to start by first asking you all ‘How do you think our clients feel about our Bank?’ Based on my research, I will demonstrate the value of our clients’ emotions, and the critical roll we play in shaping the way that they feel.”

The tables have turned and for once this morning I am actually enjoying myself. I’m in my stride. I scan the audience to find my mother’s face, but when I looked again, it wasn’t actually her! Not even someone who looked remotely like her! I’m mean, of course it wasn’t her. Why would they invite our moms to a corporate event?? I know, now, that I’m totally delusional. I’ve lost my mind completely. But I’m here on stage, and I’m riding this surge of confidence no matter what. Don’t they say that genius borders insanity, or something like that? Here goes nothing, because none of this matters anyway.

I conclude my presentation and the dutiful applause of the audience follows. That’s my cue to put up my hand as thanks and walk off the stage. I did it. It’s finally over. I can’t wait to have this all behind me. I don’t even care who wins the promotion anymore. I’m about to take my first step when I hear this voice from the audience projected by the speaker system.

“I’d like to ask one question,” says a firm, commanding voice.

It’s the CEO.

My stomach lurches with a sudden pain. The anxiety of the day is rushing back to me. I plant both my feet under me and brace for this unprecedented question at a Convention.

“If our clients' feelings are indeed as important as you say, where are we to get the funds to support your recommended initiatives?” he asks.

What on earth am I to say to him, the CEO? I close my eyes briefly to imagine my mother’s face before I boldly answer.

“We could start by examining executive compensation and benefits. If we right-size our expenses that have the least impact on the desired outcome in managing our clients’ emotions then we will have more than sufficient funds for these much needed initiatives.”

Oh jesus. Did that really come out of my mouth? I stand strong but my mind is reeling in disbelieve to my declaration that the CEO is overpaid, and to the ENTIRE Bank no less! I’m going to be fired for sure.

He doesn’t say anything more, takes a note on his judging paper, and starts his polite and dutiful round of applause.

The audience follows suit, but seemingly much louder than before.

I must be having an out of body experience, because I am now backstage with no idea how I got there. The stage hand is helping me to pull off my mic (with the red light back on), but there are other hands vigorously patting me on the back. And, there are loads of smiling faces all crowding around me. I am getting hero’s welcome from my peers as I return back stage. It was unreal. All my fellow presenters and their managers are congratulating me on my answer to the CEO.

“That was awesome!”

“You are a rockstar!”

“You should win for sure!”

Win? Not that winning mattered anymore, but there’s no way I am going to win with a direct assault to the CEO like that. I hear the CEO’s voice again. He’s about to announce the winner.

“The winner of this year’s Convention and recipient of the accelerated Associate II promotion goes to….Carol Lewis.”

What?! Now I know I must be dreaming. As I move back on stage, the lights are on full brightness. I’m blinded to the audience. All I can see is the CEO standing center stage holding a plaque and reaching out to shake my hand. The sound of the applause from the crowd fades out and music starts to play. Really annoying music. Like an incompetent musician angrily trying to play a wind chime. It’s…the Marimba?!

My eyes snap open. My phone is buzzing and chiming on the bed next to my pillow. It was ALL a dream! Oh my god. I sit up in bed and bury my face in my hands letting out a loud groan. What the actual fuck. My head feels heavy and my mind aches with grogginess. I cannot comprehend what just happened. I grab my phone, turn off the alarm, and I sit in silence for a minute. Almost without thinking, my fingers tap the screen to make a phone call.

“Mom? Yeah – Hi. I know, yes it’s today. No, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Anyway, I was thinking I could come home this weekend? Maybe you can introduce me to your business school friend, you know, that one who started her own community bank? Yeah, I changed my mind. I would like to meet her. Thanks, Mom. Love you too. Bye.”

I let out a long exhale. Against all my expectations, this crucial moment really did serve as the keystone of my career. It helped me understand what truly is my most ambitious dream. I want to start my own bank.