3. First Day First show

Tuesday morning arrived with the crisp efficiency Mike had hoped for. He had spent the previous evening in a whirlwind of preparation—ironing his best formal shirt, polishing his leather shoes until they caught the light, and organizing his bag with the meticulous care of a soldier heading into battle.

As the cab wove through the morning congestion of Manhattan, his phone buzzed. It was his mother.

"Hey, Mom," Mike answered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Hey, my baby. It’s been a month and we haven't heard a word. Are you alright?" Her voice was thick with the familiar, smothering warmth of Texas.

"I’m fine, Mom. Better than fine. Today is actually my first day at the new job."

"Oh, wonderful! But you didn’t think to tell me?" she teased, though he could hear the mock-frown in her tone. "I was expecting a call."

"I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to get settled before I made the big announcement."

"I understand. But tell me—did you eat? I hope you aren’t skipping breakfast."

"Mom... please," Mike groaned softly.

"Alright, alright. I won't nag. So, tell me about this place. Where are you working?"

"It’s a media giant called XYZ Multinational," Mike explained. "They handle massive events, media coverage, and high-profile reporting. I’m part of the technical team, managing their site architecture and event customization."

The line went quiet for a second before his mother spoke, her tone shifting to one of maternal caution. "Best of luck, son. But listen to me: stay professional. Don’t get too personal with those people."

"Mom, they’re great. And the salary is huge," Mike countered.

"I’m warning you. Just... be careful of them."

"I hear you, Mom. But I've reached the office. I'll call you later. Love you."

"Love you too, son."

Mike stepped out of the cab and into the lobby, where the air smelled of expensive espresso and ambition. His eyes immediately found Catherine. She was sitting in the lounge area with a man, laughing over coffee. She looked stunning in a red bodycon dress, her brown hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. When their eyes met, they exchanged a brief, knowing smile before Mike ducked into the elevator.

Up on the 8th floor, he swiped his new ID card—the plastic felt heavy and significant—and headed for Alandra’s office.

"Come in," she called out before he could even finish his knock.

Alandra was a blur of motion, her blazer sharp and her eyes glued to a set of notes. "So, I guess you’re still feeling a bit lost?" she asked without looking up.

"A little," Mike admitted, standing awkwardly.

"Well, your department is across the passage. You’ll be reporting to David, the senior consultant. I’ve already emailed the requirements." She finally looked up, her gaze intense. "Our site content is outdated. You need to upload the new reels—get the data from Shirin, the media coordinator. I want view counts visible, and I want likes and comments active. But," she added, pointing a pen at him, "I want the dislike count hidden."

"Okay," Mike said, his brain already clicking into gear. "I’ll need access to the codebase. Do you use a private cloud for version control?"

Alandra stared at him as if he were speaking a dead language. "Do I look like Einstein to you? Go talk to David and get your laptop. I need these changes live by the end of the day."

"EOD? I haven't even seen the code yet," Mike said, a flash of annoyance surfacing.

"We have a major event next month. Promotions start now," she said coldly. "I'll give you until tomorrow morning. No later."

Mike retreated from the office, feeling the weight of the deadline. He followed the passage to a door labeled IT Helpdesk. He paused. I’m a developer, not a desk technician, he thought bitterly.

Inside, he found a man with chubby cheeks and a relaxed vibe, wearing a loose hoodie and large headphones. A half-empty bag of potato chips sat next to a steaming coffee.

"Hey, buddy," Mike said.

The man pulled his headphones down. "So, you’re the new guy? Tell me you actually know how to code."

Mike gritted his teeth. "I’m an IT engineer. That’s a bit offensive."

"Relax," David said, leaning back. "This place is full of beautiful people who can't restart a router. I wouldn't be surprised if they hired a 'dumbass' just because he looked good in a suit. I take it you met Alandra?"

"I asked her about the cloud environment and she looked at me like I was asking if aliens exist," Mike joked, his tension breaking.

David let out a bark of laughter. "Welcome to the circus. Here’s your gear." He handed Mike a laptop bag. "I’ve synced it with our VPC. Set up your Outlook and get to work."

For the next two hours, Mike was in the zone. He ignored the noise of the office, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he debugged the existing framework.

"Hey, David," Mike called out eventually. "What’s the URL for the staging environment? I need to run some system tests before we push this."

David looked at him with a humorous, almost pitying grin. "Staging? Mike, this is a media company. We test in production. Everything goes live on the real site immediately."

"You’re kidding. What if the deployment fails?"

"Then Alandra kills you," David laughed. "Move over, let me see."

David leaned over, his casual demeanor belying a sharp technical mind. They spent the next hour refining the script together.

"Perfect," David said, tapping a final key. "The build is deploying. Let’s go for a smoke break while the server handles the heavy lifting."

"Shouldn't we email Alandra first?" Mike asked.

"Trust me," David said, heading for the door. "Once she knows it's live, she'll have you uploading a hundred videos manually. Let’s disappear for a bit first."

Mike looked at his new colleague and smiled. He had a feeling David was going to be the only thing keeping him sane in this high-glamour madhouse.