Unspoken words of love

The day my life changed, I arrived at the usual time. When I entered the office, Patricia was filling her nails with a look of boredom at the reception. She always filed her nails. Her nails were perfect, neither short nor long, neither square nor round, perfect.

On more than one occasion, the bosses had called this unprofessional behavior to her attention.

“Patricia, please, can’t you see that looks unprofessional? What will clients think when they enter Bouvet and see you sitting there filing your nails? Andrés had recently scolded

The day my life changed, I arrived at the usual time. When I entered the office, Patricia was filling her nails with a look of boredom at the reception. She always filed her nails. Her nails were perfect, neither short nor long, neither square nor round, perfect.

On more than one occasion, the bosses had called this unprofessional behavior to her attention.

“Patricia, please, can’t you see that looks unprofessional? What will clients think when they enter Bouvet and see you sitting there filing your nails? Andrés had recently scolded her. Andrés Jiménez, head of National Sales, is a good guy, although unbearably insecure. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jiménez, it won’t happen again,” Patricia replies.

Of all the Bouvet’s bosses, I was the only one who didn’t harass her about doing her nails. Poor thing, I often thought, how boring it must be to be doing the same thing day in and day out. “Bouvet & Bouvet, good morning. Yes, I’ll put you through.”

“In life, every ending is just the start of another story.”