Power and Passion (7 page)

The point is they're here now, so we have to
find some things for them to do. What can they get started on?"

Sara stood behind her desk, shuffling
through some papers as she thought. Surely they could do some
filing, answer some emails, take some phone calls. However, that
was busy work, and even though they were unpaid—just there for the
experience of being in a living, breathing workplace—Sara wanted
them to do meaningful tasks. Obviously these were intelligent young
adults; they had been chosen, after all, to attend these
prestigious universities under the umbrella of very honored
scholarship programs. She could not have them doing simple clerical
work.

"Perhaps a tour of the office is in order
first," she said, looking up at Isabella, her eyes bright. "So they
can meet everyone and learn what we do. Then we can get some input
on what departments they might want to work in while they're
here."

"That is a good idea," Isabella replied.
"I'll take care of it. You look like you have a lot on your mind
this morning." With another kind smile, Isabella left Sara alone in
her office. Sara dropped down onto her chair and rested her elbows
on the desk then buried her face in her hands. "Agh, how could I
forget something like this?"

Moving her hands away, she scanned the
calendar blotter on her desk, and there it was on today's date:
"Interns, 8:00 a.m." So she
had
written it down somewhere at
least. She had just been so distracted thinking about the gala that
she had forgotten about them—and so many other things she had to
do. She looked at the mountain of incomplete paperwork on her desk
and blew out a slow breath, fluttering a few stray hairs back from
her face.

"No sense in panicking now," she told
herself and reached for the folder on top of the pile. "That won't
get anything done."

Setting the folder down on the desk, she
opened it and dove right in. If she tried hard, she could probably
get the pile halfway down before she had to meet with the
interns.

* * *

Two hours later, Sara had indeed made a dent
in the paperwork, and several of the interns had shown great
interest in working with her on event planning over the next few
months. With those tasks done, she took a little break, got a cup
of tea from the kitchen, and tried calling Pierce. No answer, but
that was not unusual for him in the middle of the day.

"Just wanted to tell you that I'm thinking
of you," she said to his voicemail as she stood and gazed out the
window. "And thank you again for the offer you made this morning."
Before she could say goodbye, there was a knock on her office door.
Hanging up from the call, she turned to see Isabella—alone this
time, no passel of interns trailing behind her like a mama and her
ducklings.

"So what's the idea you wanted to run by
me?" Isabella asked, coming in as Sara motioned for her to do so.
She took a seat in front of Sara's desk and looked at her
expectantly.

Sara sat down as well just as another
coworker—Paolo from the finance department—appeared in the doorway.
She smiled and waved him in.

"Good morning," he said to the two women,
nodding at each of them in turn. "How are you both today?"

Sara and Isabella both told him they were
doing fine as yet another colleague—Diana, their regional director—
entered the office. "Good morning, everyone," she sang with the
usual lilt in her voice. Although Diana was Sara's superior, she
never acted like it; as she always said, they were all in this
together with one mission and the same goals. Sara had always liked
that approach.

"Good morning, Diana," she replied and then
greeted the other two as well. "I want to thank you all for coming.
I know it's difficult for any of us to find a few spare minutes in
our schedules anymore."

Everyone laughed and nodded at that then
Sara cleared her throat. "Now, I asked you all to come in here so I
can run an idea by you." She paused for a moment, thinking about
how exactly to start. "Well, first let me say, as you all probably
know, I am always trying to think of new ways to gain support for
our organization. Whether it's financial support or merely raising
awareness of what we do in the community, I think that it is so
important to know that there are people outside the organization
who, as they say, have our backs."

"Sara, without you, no one would know about
us," Paolo interjected. "Forgive me, but you are the voice of this
operation without a doubt." He glanced at the other two women,
looking a bit embarrassed. "I don't mean to discount anyone else,"
he added quickly. "But Sara is just always out there, talking to
people in the community and setting up practice sessions and
athlete camps and volunteer drives."

"No, it's true, it's true," Diana agreed,
nodding at Paolo to put his mind at ease. "Of course there is no
offense taken." She looked back at Sara. "This is why we hired you,
after all—not only to make sure our athletes have places where they
can compete but to build up our name in the region. And I think
you've done stupendously at that."

Sara felt her cheeks glow hot again as they
had that morning when Pierce had complimented her as well. All this
praise in one day—it was more than she had expected to hear.

"Well, that is my job, as you said," she
replied, bowing her head quickly. "Besides, it's what I love to
do." She looked back up at her coworkers, once again gathering her
thoughts. "But I'm thinking now of how we can take the support we
already have to the next level. What I envision is a big event—a
gala with great food and formal dress and the best music, something
that will leave an impression in people's minds and really put
Special Olympics on the map." There was silence in her office for a
moment. Three sets of questioning eyes watched her, eyebrows
arched.
Oh, great
, Sara thought. Not even five minutes into
her pitch, and she'd already blown the whole thing.
Oh, I should
have kept this all to myself. I knew it was a crazy idea
—

"I think that's an amazing idea." Isabella
was the first to speak. "But how on earth will we pull it off?" She
looked at the other two. "Who here knows a thing about galas?"

Diana and Paolo shrugged then looked back at
Sara quite expectantly, as if she would have the answer.

"Well, I don't know from experience," she
said, leaning down to reach into her purse. "But I've done a bit of
research." She pulled out the papers she had shown Pierce that
morning—the notes she had taken during her Googling session in the
middle of the night. As the three huddled together to read, Sara
continued.

"There are a lot of ways we could go with
this," she said, feeling confident thanks to Isabella's interest.
"We could really go all out—auctioning artwork, for example, and
even inviting celebrities from the region. We could have speakers
and find patrons to match any donations—"

"And where would we hold this event?" Diana
asked, her doubtful tone suddenly bringing Sara back down to
earth.

"Oh, my fiancé, Pierce—he works in real
estate. He can probably get us a deal at one of the better
hotels."

Diana nodded and looked down at the paper
again. Paolo sat back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap,
and gave Sara a wistful smile.

"I'm just concerned about what it would
cost," he said, sounding almost as if he didn't want to say it. "I
love the idea, Sara. It's brilliant. But I can tell you right now
we do not have the money in our coffers to pull it off." He looked
at Diana. "Do you think the higher-ups would help us out a
little?"

Diana twisted her mouth to the side then
reached over the desk and handed the papers back to Sara. "I have
no problem asking," she said, "especially if you put together a
good proposal. But they've been tight with their purse strings
lately. Remember the fight I had to put up just to get us a new fax
machine?"

Sara grinned. "Well, there's the good news.
I already have the funding covered. Pierce offered to give us what
we need. He said—"

"Wait." Diana held a hand up to her. "Your
fiancé will pay for this event?"

Sara nodded, barely able to contain her
excitement over the news.

Diana, on the other hand, continued to look
skeptical. "That's all well and good," she went on. "But there's
more that goes into something like this. It's not just money, you
know. It'll take lots of time and planning and manpower— which, as
you know, we're short on to begin with."

Sara knew this was true. They had been
understaffed from the day the offi had opened; everyone did the
work of at least two people. Sometimes Sara felt like she did three
or four. How many more would planning a gala add? She already
worked overtime for free almost every day of the week. Could she
manage to take on another diffi ult task?

She simply had not thought of these things,
and the realization now just drew the wind right out of her sails.
How could I have been so naïve?
she thought, sitting roughly
back in her chair.
I had actually thought this could
work.

"Yes, I know," she replied to Diana, feeling
suddenly less confident about her great idea. "Well, thank you all
for listening anyway." Looking at her colleagues, she forced
herself to give a smile; although she was unhappy about this
outcome, she knew it was not her coworkers' fault. "I appreciate
your time and support."

With a shy smile and a nod, Paolo got up and
left quickly.

Diana stood up, too, but paused, looking at
Sara across the desk.

"I think you can do this," Diana said. "Just
remember what I said about a solid proposal. Get your facts and
figures straight then get back to me, and I'll do whatever I can to
push it through for you." She nodded curtly then took her leave as
well.

"Looks like it's just you and me then,"
Isabella said with a laugh, eliciting a tired grin from Sara. The
two had been hired almost at the same time and had become fast
friends; it also helped that their departments worked so closely on
so many different projects, and they were both from the West—Sara
from Canada and Isabella from New York. Their cultures were not
quite the same, but they found their common points. "If it helps,
I'm behind you one hundred percent. I still think it's a fantastic
idea."

Sara let out a slow sigh, looking down at
papers full of typed notes. Auctions. Dancing. Presentations. Was
it all just a pipe dream? The Special Olympics, this office anyway,
really didn't have the money. That was obvious, and something she
had already known. But she had thought they could overcome that
somehow, that they could make the gala happen regardless simply
because they wanted to.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just not meant to
be," she said, keeping her voice low and steady, trying not to get
choked up.

Across the desk, Isabella smiled at her.
"No, don't say that, Sara. Diana is on your side. And so am I, and
so is Paolo, and so would the whole office be if you gave them a
detailed proposal." She looked at her watch then stood up quickly.
"Oh, I have a conference call. Listen, we'll catch up at lunchtime,
okay? I'm buying."

Sara nodded, and Isabella left. Now that it
was all over, she wasn't sure what to do with herself. For the last
ten hours or so, the thought of this event had preoccupied her
mind; it had been all she could think about, all she could imagine,
and she couldn't wait to tell her colleagues about it. And now it
had been shot down so fast.

Maybe she had presented it wrong. She should
have been more enthusiastic or not led with all the flashy stuff.
She could have talked about the practical aspects instead— the
publicity, the money they stood to raise. Perhaps then Diana would
have been more immediately supportive.

Or maybe not
, she thought, once again
burying her face in her hands.
Who am I kidding? I have no idea
what I'm doing
.

And then she sat up again, eyes wide open,
scanning the empty office in front of her.

"That's it," she said. "That's it. I need
someone who knows what they're doing. Someone who can tell me what
I need to know. Someone who knows a thing or two about what a gala
is like."

Of course Pierce's name popped into her
mind, but she quickly dismissed it. Not because he couldn't do it
but simply because she knew he would not have the time. Besides, he
was already putting up the money; how much more could she ask of
him?

Who else could help her then? Feeling her
vigor renewed, she was not ready to give up on this idea yet.
Pulling her Rolodex across the desk, she flipped through the cards,
looking for someone who could offer her advice. Someone who had
done this before, an event planner, someone in corporate,
maybe—

But there was no one. Sara was so focused on
her job that she rarely made any new contacts. Pierce had always
told her she had to network more. "You won't always be at Special
Olympics," he would say. "One day you'll want to move on, and if
you want to get ahead, you will need to know people."

But of course she had never listened. She
had always been so happy in her insular little world, going to her
track meets, planning family picnics and athlete appreciation
dinners. The fact that she might undertake anything bigger had
never even crossed her mind.

"Well, not until now," she muttered to
herself then flopped back in her chair again, feeling utterly
defeated. There had to be a way, she thought, somehow she could
pull this off. She just didn't know what it was. With another
frustrated sigh, she reached back into her purse and took out her
mail from home; she had grabbed it on the way out to breakfast but
hadn't had a chance to go through it yet. Bills, advertisements,
and the new issue of
7Days
, a newspaper many expats in Dubai
read, which she spread out on the desk in front of her.