Five Minutes to Start

The open-plan office, 8:15am

At 8:15, Maya was alone in the office, staring at a screen that said the morning meeting now started at 8:30. Sam's chair was empty, her access card did not work, and the silence did not feel like a warm welcome. She had fifteen minutes to find out where everything was.

Sam: Morning, Maya. Sorry — train trouble. Let me set up your laptop, then we'll sort out your access card. First days need clear instructions, not guesswork. If the meeting gets noisy, I'll back you up.

Then the laptop froze. The printer jammed, and a woman from finance asked for a document Maya had never heard of. Maya smiled as if she understood, then hated herself for doing it. She wrote three questions on a sticky note and tried to keep calm.

The glass meeting room, 8:25am

Five minutes before the meeting, Sam's phone rang. The director needed him upstairs. Maya would have to deal with the new names, the frozen laptop and the agenda alone. His busy schedule had become her first real test. Lena, already seated, whispered, 'Just start. We'll help.'

Maya's voice shook, and she said Lena's name wrong. Lena corrected her gently; Maya apologised and carried on. She asked for one update from each person and admitted when she did not understand. Nobody laughed. By lunch, she had ended up running her first meeting on a day when she had only planned to find the printer. Then her phone buzzed: 'URGENT — 7:30 start on Monday. Can you join the director's new project?'