“Maisie Valenti?”
A familiar voice came from over my shoulder. I stood to meet Addison Thornton, the one who called to invite me to this interview. Our eyes met on a level basis. At five foot eight minus the impressive heels I was wearing, I’m always surprised to meet a woman of my own height.
“Come with me to the conference room to meet our sports director.” Her tone was just as crisp as it was on the phone. Everything about her was crisp: hair arrested into a neat French braid, neatly ironed trousers and company-logo shirt with an exacting crease on the sleeves. Yikes. Was this the mode here? If it was, I was sure that my windblown bob and vintage chic style curated from boutiques, thrift shops, and my nana’s closet might not quite fit in.
She even rapped on the conference room door with neat precision.
“Enter!” came a strangled voice from within.
As I stepped in, I realized that cool-as-a-cucumber Addison might just be an exception at KDW, and grinned inwardly.
“Addison! Save me!” The voice came from a male head that was firmly locked in a chokehold by another male. Both men wore decidedly rumpled khaki shorts, and the choker had on a vintage Babe Ruth baseball jersey while the choke-ee looked to be wearing a Hawaiian shirt in violent shades of lime, orange, and grape.
Addison ignored the plea and announced my entrance.
“This is Maisie Valenti? Your ten o’clock?” She left the room without bothering to acknowledge the wrestling match before her.
“You then. Give me a hand?”
Growing up with a slew of brothers and friends of brothers, I knew better than to immerse myself in either side of a battle when I was not sure of the background circumstances. I stood patiently and waited.
Mere seconds passed, and the man in the Hawaiian shirt finally gasped “Uncle!” and the siege was over.
“Ha!” The other man swiped what looked like a pair of tickets from the table and strolled past me, not before casually tossing a comment my way: “Never bet with him. He’s known to welsh.”
“But if you knew that, then why did you bet?” Oops. The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. Darn my tendency to blurt out every little thing that I think! He stopped, turned, and gave me a calculated look, then continued on his way. I wondered what this would mean for my chances, since I had no idea who that man was.
“Come, come, sit, sit,” encouraged Hawaiian shirt as he moved to the chair at the head of the massive conference table.
“Mr. Bosch, I’m pleased to meet you,” I began as I pulled out my resume and sat neatly on the chair diagonal to him. In the few short days I had to prepare, I had done my research and knew that Mathis Bosch had been sports director at KDW for a decade. He had worked his way up in stations all across the country, and if I didn’t miss my guess, he could one day move into a national spot. Despite his disheveled appearance, I knew he was savvy and was known to put together tight sports coverage teams.
He patted his pockets, finally patting the top of his head to find his glasses. Leaning back in his chair, he studied my credentials for an agonizing amount of time.
“Valenti, I’m not going to beat around the bush. It wasn’t my idea to bring you in.”
My heart sank.
“Fortunately for you, one of my staff members saw that Steph Curry interview you did and talked me into watching it.”
I brightened.
“But then I asked myself, was that just a lucky break? Was she just in the right place in the right time? Or is she as talented as she appears?”
This guy really knew how to run a roller coaster of an interview.
I cleared my throat, sat a little taller, and began. “I don’t believe in lucky breaks, sir. If I wasn’t prepared, then being in the right place at the right time wouldn’t have panned out, would it? I was able to call my team together, put together questions, and put Steph at ease enough to make a good—no, great—interview happen. If you saw it, then you know. And, if it wasn’t quality, then the people at ONESport would never have risked their reputation to run it.”
Too much?
He pulled off his glasses, polished them, replaced them, then leaned forward and surveyed me. After another long pause, his face split into a grin.
“I like you, Valenti. You don’t pull punches, do you?”
“Well. My dad always told me just to be who I am.” Rats. He was going to ask about Pop, wasn’t he?
“Is your dad Sal Valenti?”
I took a breath.
“Yes he is, but—”
“Mm-hmm. Great coach. I was in the stadium for that last-second win over Ohio State the other year. Where is he coaching now? I know he’s not still on the college level, but I haven’t seen him in the pros.”
Was that a trick question? When my dad retired, it was big news. A savvy sports director would know that. Nah. Intuitively, I knew he was just testing me on how I would answer.
“He wanted a different kind of challenge, so he moved from college ball to high school. He actually coaches near here at St. Peter’s Academy.”
“Interesting. A lot of people would have gone the other direction into the pros.”
Not my pop.
“If you knew him, you’d know he was never in it for the money and was barely comfortable with the fame. He loves his current position in the trenches with the young guys, concentrating on the basics,” I explained.
Mathis Bosch sighed and reviewed my resume again. What? No more questions about the great Sal Valenti? Or about my running back brother Anthony, who would have been a top contender for the Heisman if he hadn’t been injured? Or any of my other sports prodigy brothers?
I must have given an audible “hmm,” because he looked up and surveyed me over the rim of his glasses.
“What? Did you have something to say?”
I cleared my throat.
“No. Well, actually yes. When people find out my lineage, they usually stop talking about me and start talking about my dad and my brothers.”
“I’m not some people, Valenti. I wouldn’t be hiring your … lineage. I’d be hiring you. I need to know you can do the job. Can you?”
“Yes sir.”
“So tell me about that.” He leaned back, chair creaking, took off his glasses yet again, and crossed his hands over his midsection. I took a nanosecond, then launched into my credentials. He nodded and only occasionally interrupted me to clarify.
I had this speech down to an art, having gone on so many interviews after college. I filled him in on how I played baseball, basketball, and lacrosse throughout elementary and high school … captained the regional champion lacrosse team in college … always dreamed of being a sports reporter and worked on that goal for most of my life …
After I was done, he asked me questions that I knew were angled to determine if I really knew about sports. No problem there. I could talk about games, stats, and history in my sleep. After that, he picked up my resume, studied it again, and mindlessly tapped his fingers on the table before asking to see my video clips. I had them on my tablet, and after a few he seemed satisfied and waved the rest away.
Then came the inevitable question about being a woman in a predominantly male field. I had answered this one so often I should have had it printed on a card to hand out.
Yes, I knew there would be challenges, but I was up for them. Growing up with six brothers prepared me to be in an all-male setting. My college classes were predominantly male, and all of my internships and work experience to this point had been the same.
“I know my stuff as well as the guys,” I said. “I wouldn’t know how to work any other way, quite frankly.”
He leaned forward pointed his glasses at me.
“Well, Valenti, I like you. You’re bright, personable, and you seem like a hard worker. I’d like to take a chance on you.”
But?
Another long pause as he considered, then seemed to make some sort of decision.
He picked up the phone, punch
ed an extension, and asked the person who answered to come join us.
“You have quite a recommendation going for you. I’m not sure why, but this guy seems to think you’d be great at the job. ” A knock on the door interrupted him. “Here he is now. Come in!”
I turned to see who my fan was. The door opened, and I looked up into the slate gray eyes of my college buddy, Alek Markovich.
7
Was it appropriate to hug someone you knew if they appeared while you were in the middle of a job interview? I was sure it wasn’t, so I just stood up and stuck my hand out uncomfortably. Alek took it and gave a sideways smirk as he shook it with great importance.
“Markovich, I’ve been very impressed with your little gal here,” Bosch said.
Little gal? My height if nothing else should have precluded him from describing me that way. I counted to ten to avoid expressing my disapproval of the term, and luckily Alek caught my eye as well, giving me an almost imperceptible shake of his head in solidarity. Not the time to educate Mathis Bosch on his choice of words.
“Well, sir, I told you she’s the real thing, didn’t I?” He took the chair opposite mine at the other diagonal to Bosch. I didn’t know whether I would rather have him distracting me in my direct line of sight or distracting me from the side. In the end, I felt that across the table was safer because at least he wouldn’t be tempted to kick me in the ankle.
“Mm-hmm,” Bosch nodded and turned his eye back to my resume.
While the sports director had his head down, I attempted to catch Alek’s eye to engage him in an unspoken conversation, but he was having none of it. He remained laser-focused on Bosch, leaving me time to focus on him. His coal black hair turned out ever so slightly at his collar—a cut was in order. He was dressed much the same way he was when I had last seen him: in a snug vintage rock concert T-shirt that hugged his muscles and a pair of distressed black jeans similar to the ones I had seen him in that day in my office. When did comfy Alek Markovich stop looking like a geeky camera guy and start looking more like a roadie?
Bosch finally looked up and spoke.
“Markovich, you’ve not let me down before.”
“No sir,” Alek responded to what wasn’t really a question.
“And I trust my own instincts.”
“As well you should,” Alek concurred.
Did I even need to be in the room?
With a slap of both hands on the sturdy conference table, Bosch declared, “Valenti, you have the job.”
With that, he stood to leave.
“But, but, but … what job? How? When?” This was the oddest job interview I’d ever been on.
Bosch ignored my questions.
“Let’s get Addison in here and get the paperwork started, Markovich,” Bosch said. And with that, he was out of the room.
I leaned back on my own chair.
“Am I being pranked right now? What on earth was that?”
“Nope. That’s how Mathis works. He just doesn’t mess around. If he likes you, you’re in.”
“So I gather. But I guess I really have you to thank for this, pal.” I got up and swiftly moved to give him the hug I had denied myself when he first came in the room. I then plopped myself inelegantly in the chair at the head of the table and swiveled as I dug for more information.
“What on earth possessed you to recommend me for this job? And, while we’re at it, exactly what job was I just offered?”
He leaned back comfortably, too.
“Well, I saw that A-Mais-ing interview with Curry on Sports Focus.” As ever, Alek’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. He continued, “The fact that you nailed it was no surprise to me. Remember, I video’d you a thousand times when we were in school. I knew you were just waiting for a break. And I knew you must be looking for something more than that gig I saw you at when I was visiting Lars. Plus, Lars told me how you were also working outside the station, slinging coffee on the side.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Don’t ‘but’ me, Maisie. We talked about paying our dues a lot in college, and I agree that there are no magic rides to the top. But you know that no matter when a real opportunity comes up, you need to take it.”
I pondered. “What exactly IS the opportunity?”
He paused a second too long.
“Oh no, Alek! What is it?” I dreaded the words that would come out of his mouth.
“It’s only part-time reporting. But, to round out the salary, we’ve arranged that you can help Rachel at the front desk by making coffee.”
I had to give it to him. He delivered the line with a very straight face. I jumped over to him and circled his neck in a wrestling hold that could have competed with the one I had witnessed earlier.
“Stop!” He was laughing too hard to disengage.
“Ahem.” A crisp voice interrupted us, and we both looked up guiltily to view the efficient Addison Thornton eyeing us. How could she enter the room without us even noticing? I was sure she had judged me thoroughly at that point.
I jumped back to my own chair, unsuccessfully attacking the wrinkles of my rumpled suit and pushing my disheveled hair into place. Addison sat neatly at a diagonal to me, and while her eyes were focused on the papers she laid out before her, I gave Alek the two-fingered “my eyes, your eyes” motion that indicated I would finish with him later. Oooh. He was SOOO like my brothers!
“Ms. Valenti, you are being offered the position of Associate Sports Reporter,” she began and, without a beat, described the position without stopping for a breath or letting me ask even one question.
“Is that acceptable to you?” she concluded.
“Well …”
She neatly crossed her hands on the paperwork. I felt that she was disappointed in me in some way.
“I understand that you may want to think about this.”
That was an understatement.
“Why don’t you take the paperwork to read over with whatever … responsible … person you need to”—she paused to glance at Alek—“and bring it back, let’s say in the morning?”
She collected the documents neatly in the folder, tapped them on the table to square them off, and handed them to me. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” Then click, click, click. Her impeccable heels carried her out of the room.
“Why did she look at me when she said ‘responsible’?” Alek asked.
I smacked him with the folder.
“Why indeed!”
I sat back in the chair.
“What are you thinking, Maisie?”
“Hm? I don’t know Alek. This is big. A move across country. New job. It’s just … big.”
“Of course it is. But it’s what you want. For pity’s sake! It’s all you ever talked about in college!”
“I know, I know.”
“You can’t tell me that now that a real opportunity has come along, you’re too scared to take it!”
I scrunched my face at him. “No, you pinhead. I just would like to breathe a minute, that’s all. Don’t I even get a chance to meet the other people I’ll work with?”
He pulled me up by both hands.
“That’s easy. Come on, Mais, I’ll show you around.”
I grabbed my portfolio and started to follow him. Then I stopped short, overcome by a moment of doubt.
“Alek?”
He turned.
“I know it sounds silly to ask. You really think I can do this, right?” I looked up into his eyes.
He paused for a bare second.
“This and more. This and more. Now come on!”
Alek proved to be an efficient tour guide and was just as liked by the employees here as he always was by people in college. He knew not only the sports division but the entire news department and random employees throughout the office. People obviously felt he was a good co-worker and a stand-up guy. Apparently Alek was on the office softball team and was a mainstay at karaoke night. Who was this Alek?
After we had
made a full circle, we ended up back at the door of the conference room.
“There are a few corporate offices on the next floor, but you can meet those folks on your first day. So what do you think, Mais? I think it would be great to work together again, don’t you?”
I had to admit, the idea of working with someone I had such a history with was tantalizing. It would make starting a new job easier. Plus, this job was a logical step in my career.
“I need to sleep on it, but it seems like a good idea to me.” I had done my research, and besides that, whenever I visited home I always landed on KDW when I wanted to watch news and sports. Living closer to the family would be a plus. Unlike a lot of my contemporaries, I liked being close to my parents.
I was ready to leave and let Alek get back to his job when there was a commotion in the front area.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Oh, you’re not the only new employee. Mathis Bosch landed a high-profile talking head for the lead sportscasting gig.”
“Hm. Some random ex-player who couldn’t spell his own name without a teleprompter?”
We both laughed. In college, we all used to discuss the ex-players who got fat broadcasting contracts without ever having had any communications training. We walked up to the reception area to see who was generating the buzz. I stopped short of gasping when I saw the back of the head of the person who was the center of attention. It was my elevator mate, the blond giant who had given me the one-sentence pep talk.
Then he turned around, and I couldn’t stop my gasp. It was the superhero Thor come to life, with dazzling cornflower eyes and a smile that I was sure actually had one of those blingy stars in the corner. Quarterback Campbell Casey. Everyone has one secret crush, and he was mine.
Game On Page 5