28September
Im still trying to get my head around the fact that today was my first week as a junior accountant at Whitby & Co., a modest firm tucked away in a glassfront building on Fleet Street. The HR manager, Sarah Jennings, greeted me with a grin that seemed to say, Welcome to the grind, love. She didnt waste a moment on pleasantries Your duties include tidying the office. And youre an accountant? If you dont like it, hand back your contract and be gone. Youre fresh here, so youll have to bite the bullet. Thanks for taking the job with a salary despite the total lack of experience!
I asked quietly, How often do we have to clean?
Sarah laughed, Ill show you around. Follow me to your desk, introduce you to the team She led me down a corridor and pushed open a heavy door into a large openplan room, partitioned into tiny cubicles where a handful of women were glued to their screens.
This is Emily Clarke, our newest hire, Sarah announced, her voice echoing off the carpet. Ten pairs of eyes snapped to me, and a heavy silence settled. I forced a smile, hoping not to look too frightened, and said hello. The girls murmured amongst themselves.
Lovely to have a fresh face, said one, the office hasnt seen a proper clean in ages.
Great, replied another, just make sure you sit next to me. Ill have to endure the clack of your keyboard, the occasional squeal, maybe a sob or two.
Fine by me, a third chimed, time to get out of your comfort zone.
The fourth added, We used to hear only your crying and shouting. Now youll sit in our spot.
Sarah smiled again, Alright, Emily, heres your workstation in the corner. On the computer youll find a folder called Guidelines and Tasks. Read, learn, memorise. If you need help, ask Barbara Hart, our redhaired firecracker. Understood? I nodded as Sarah slipped out, leaving the girls to stare at their monitors. Barbara leaned over, eyes glittering.
You remind me of my younger sister, she said, smugly. That should give you a bit of an edge. Dont make any foolish, crude mistakes, and well get along. Get to work, Emily. Ill check in during lunch. No distractions until then, got it?
I settled into the chair and took in my little world: a modest desk with trays for paperwork, a glass of pens and markers, a monitor, a mousepad, a mouse, a trash bin, and a wilted potted aloe plant that looked as though it had survived a war.
The pharmacy in a pot, I whispered to myself, why does nobody look after it? Itll die for sure.
Everyone around me was buried in numbers, their fingers dancing over keyboards, calculators beeping, pens scratching across draft sheets. Occasionally a soft, frustrated sigh escaped when figures didnt match. I felt a pang of anxiety. Id just finished university with a brilliant degree but no practical experience. Still, this seemed like a perfect steppingstone: the firm offered accounting services to a variety of clients, promising exposure and a decent £2,500 a month for a rookie.
At lunch, Barbara swooped over and spent forty minutes answering my barrage of questions.
Give me a break, my brains about to boil, I gasped. Lets rest a bit. She slumped back, looking at the aloe.
Its aloe, I corrected.
Yes, aloe. Its a relic from our great patron of numbers, Vera Palmer, Barbara said, eyes rolling. She was the queen of spreadsheets, a legend. When she retired, we held a little office fête and left this plant behind. She never took it home, so it stayed here. Now its up to you whether you toss it or keep it on your desk.
I stared at the twisted stem, a plant that must have been ten years old, perhaps more. How long does a centenarian plant really live?
The weeks trudged on. I arrived early twice a week to sweep the floor in the main office, wipe down the reception area where Sarah reigned, and even the directors suite. It took time and energy, and by the start of the day I was already weary. Yet the generous pay meant I couldnt complain about the extra chores.
I hoped that by proving myself as a competent accountant, the cleaning duties might disappear. I stayed late, poring over balance sheets, but I was still just a fresh graduate, my practical knowledge thin. The workload was heavy, but I believed I could manage.
Then a nasty autumn cold hit. My head throbbed, my throat ached. I couldnt dash to a pharmacy before my shift because I was still busy tidying. By lunchtime the red alerts still blazed on my screen, and I was barely functional.
I glanced at the aloe, wilted, and thought, Grandma used it for every ailment. Maybe itll help me. I snapped off a fleshy leaf and chewed it reluctantly. The texture was odd, but after half an hour I felt a little relief.
Barbara peered over my shoulder, Seriously? All done? No errors? she asked, a trace of disbelief in her voice. I nodded, and she handed me a fresh batch of tasks. Unwittingly, Id taken on extra work, but I felt a surge of productivity and called Barbara back for a quick check.
How did you whip up those tables so fast, Emily? she asked, halfamazed.
I just followed the patterns, I tried to explain, though Id learned a few shortcuts from an online tutorial.
She smirked, Alright, youre good. Heres a tough assignment Ive been wrestling with since morning. Lets see if you can crack it. I dove in, my throat still a little sore, and gnawed another piece of aloe for courage.
By the end of the day, I presented my work. The other girls rose, eyes wide.
How did you do it? Barbara demanded, snatching the mouse from my hand and scanning the spreadsheet.
Im just a diligent young accountant. I thought it through and applied the right formulas, I replied.
She snapped, Were all diligent accountants, but youre the newcomer. Explain yourself!
Just then Sarah burst in. Ladies, tomorrow Vera Palmer will be here. She has a meeting with the director and promised to drop by. Prepare any questions you might have.
Ill think of some, Barbara muttered, glancing at me. I was at a loss; everything felt both clear and confusing.
The next morning the office buzzed with preparation for Veras visit. I tackled my urgent tasks, chewing aloe leaf after leaf, engrossed in my work, when suddenly a voice called from behind me.
Is she the new girl? the voice asked.
I turned, offering a polite Good morning, while popping another aloe fragment into my mouth.
Vera Palmer, a wiry, tall woman with her hair neatly pinned, adjusted her spectacles perched on the end of a long nose and surveyed me, my monitor, and the sad little plant.
Apologies, I didnt bring any questions. Ive been swamped, I explained.
She waved a hand. No need for a masterclass today. Im retired, after all. Lets just have a chat.
During the break I finally ventured to the cafeteria for a proper lunch. As I was about to sit down, Vera called me over.
Sit with me, lets talk Hows the work going? I saw what you did today. Not bad at all. Youre sharp. Lots of experience?
Ive only been here a month, I admitted. I love accounting. I get better each day.
She laughed, Youve been looking after my aloe, havent you? Tasting it? How does it feel?
My throat was sore, so I tried it. It helped a bit, I said.
Ah, a little natural boost, she chuckled. You know, theres a legend about a centuryold aloe that healed a dying healer in the desert. He drank its sap and was restored. Folks call it a miracle plant.
I raised an eyebrow. That sounds more like folklore than bookkeeping.
She shrugged, Maybe. But sometimes the same principle applies: a little nourishment can revive you, whether youre a wizard or an accountant. She went on to recount how, as a young woman, shed been mentored by a stern senior who pushed her hard, and how that aloe plant had been passed down to her when she retired. Now its yours, dear, she said, tapping the pot. Take care of it.
The days turned into weeks. I stopped cleaning the floors; the firm trusted me with its most demanding clients. Complex reconciliations became routine, and I found a certain thrill in turning numbers into stories. Yet the aloe remained on my desk, a quiet reminder of my humble beginnings.
After three months I handed in my resignation. Why leave? You have top clients, a good salary, Barbara asked, surprised. Im moving to a different borough, the commute here is getting tricky, I replied, gathering my things.
Barbara scoffed, Going off to nowhere? Youll have to start from scratch again. I smiled, Ill manage.
She sneezed, Caught a cold, havent you?
Just a scratch, I said, reaching for the aloe leaf. Chew this, youll feel better.
She rolled her eyes, Youre the one who keeps leaving this cursed plant around, yet you think itll cure anything!
I laughed, Give it a try, you might surprise yourself.
Now, as I sit in my new flat overlooking the Thames, I think back to that first chaotic week. The office politics, the endless spreadsheets, the strange camaraderie over a sad aloe plant. It feels like a chapter Ive closed, but the lessons linger: perseverance, the value of asking questions, and the odd comfort of chewing a leaf when the world feels too heavy.
Tomorrow Ill start at the new firm in Camden. I hope the desk is brighter, the coffee stronger, and perhapsjust perhapsthe aloe will find a new home.
Emily.
