Wing Flapping

I’m taking over a project mid-stream from someone who had to leave unexpectedly. This person, according to everyone I’ve talked to, was perfection herself, an individual of perfect, detailed-oriented, angelic beauty. Those are some pretty tough wings to fill. Luckily, I am Superman.
My training involved reading a stack of files as tall as I am (over two metres tall), and coming up with a work plan by the end of the day. Since when I walked into the office with the sketchiest idea of what the project is and left with a very set idea of what I would do – with new boss’ approval, I’d say I did it right. This is not bad for someone who has spent the past two years scraping together a very modest existence with freelance contracts out of his living room.
I have to give frequent presentations and speeches. Luckily I’m rock star manqué and I love the attention. I can do them in jeans and t-shirts.

I can arrive when I want, leave when I want, set up meetings with people outside the office as much as I want, and I have a budget for meetings I set up in the office.
My new job gave me my own office with my own door that I can close on my own.
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