But I didn’t want the corner office first.
I asked for a desk.
Not a title. Not a private elevator. Not a secretary.
A desk on the fourteenth floor.
My father looked at me like I had just asked to sleep in a bus station.
Then he smiled.
“Good,” he said. “Find out what the company looks like from the bottom.”
So I walked in on a cold Monday morning with a plain leather messenger bag, a basic employee badge, and a lunchbox Lily had decorated with rainbow stickers.
Nobody knew who I was.
That was the point.
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