5) The Wrong Floor at the Right Time

Spi walked the city with no particular destination in mind. The air had warmed into a beautiful spring day, gentle breeze, perfect temperature.  The kind of day that made you want to keep walking just because you could.

In the distance, rising above the skyline like a polished needle, stood a building that gleamed. Glass and steel, catching the sun. Spi drew in her breath… it was wondrous!  That one, she decided, and walked toward the building.

Ten blocks later, she glided through the automatic door into a soaring marble lobby. A woman in a neat blazer sat at a curved desk.

"Good morning. What floor?"

"The top, please. I'd like to see the view."

"That would be the Le Ciel, best restaurant in the city with a magnificent view!  Elevators to your left, the restaurant is marked."

Spi stepped into an elevator car. She pressed Le Ciel and settled in as the car began to rise.

People flowed in and out at every floor. By the time the elevator reached 77, it was packed.  Shoulder to shoulder, briefcases, coffee cups and someone's shopping bag. Not wanting that level of intimacy at the moment, Spi slipped out as the doors opened.

The hallway was quiet. Plush carpet. Framed art on the walls. She found herself in a reception area with a curved glass desk and a young woman staring at a phone that wouldn't stop ringing.

Spi nodded and smiled.

The receptionist looked up. Her eyes went wide.

"Oh thank goodness you're here!" She jumped up, rounded the desk, and grabbed Spi's arm. "Right on time!"

Spi didn't miss a beat. "Right on time," she agreed.

"You're from the temp agency, right? We called an hour ago – Sandra went into early labor and Mr. Prescott is about to walk into the biggest investor meeting of the year!  We can't find the quarterly reports, and the projector won't sync, and...”

"I'll handle it," Spi said gently.

The receptionist,  her name tag read Kara, nearly wept with relief. She ushered Spi into a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows. "He'll be here in two minutes. The reports should be on the server, but nobody can find them. The investors are already in Conference Room C. Our A/V person is out at the moment and no one knows how to set up the projector.” 

Spi sat down at the desk. Opened the laptop. Her fingers moved quietly. She didn't know this operating system, but she understood intention. She closed her eyes for half a second, thought "found," and opened them to see the quarterly reports in a folder labeled "FY26 Q2" that three people had apparently overlooked.

The door opened. A man in his fifties, silver hair, a suit that cost more than some cars and a very worried look rushed into the room. Mr. Prescott. He stopped short when he saw Spi.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your temp for the day. Sandra's replacement. The reports are on the screen, it will take me two seconds to connect the projector, and I've reviewed the investor packet." She hadn't, but she knew people and more important, she knew her identity and the power of intent.

Prescott blinked. "Kara, did you, never mind. Let's go."

As Spi connected the laptop to the projector, she glanced around the room.  The meeting was so tense you could cut the air with a knife. Two investors wanted to pull funding. One kept checking his watch. A third asked a question about projected revenue that made Prescott's assistant visibly sweat.

Spi spoke up. Quietly. "If I may. The concern about Q3 seems to be based on last year's pattern. But if you look at the new customer acquisition since January, the trajectory changed.  Plus we closed 3 new contracts just last week, and this report hasn’t been updated yet.  Our actual revenues will likely be at least twice these projected numbers."

She walked to the laptop, tapped a few keys, and brought up a graph with the original projections followed by a spreadsheet with rough numbers showing the updates.  Spi blushed and said, “I didn’t have time to create a polished report but… you get the idea.” 

The investors leaned forward.

By the end of the hour, the deal was signed. Prescott looked like a man who'd been thrown a rope while drowning.

Back in his office, he poured himself a glass of bourbon and turned to Spi. "You saved us. I don’t know how to thank you.  I don't even know your name."

"Spi. Spi Ralyn."

"How can I reach your agency? I want you permanently."

Spi smiled. "Actually, I don't work for a temp agency."

Prescott froze. "What?!"

"I was on my way to Le Ciel to have a nice lunch and enjoy the view. The elevator was too crowded, so I got off on the wrong floor." She shrugged, as if this happened every day. "Your receptionist needed help. I helped."

Prescott stared. Then he laughed, a deep, hearty laugh. "You walked into the wrong office by accident and saved a seven-figure deal?  That’s fantastic!"

"Accident is such a strong word." Spi's eyes twinkled.

He shook his head, walked to a safe, and pulled out an envelope. "There's three thousand in here. It's yours. And I'm serious about the job. Any time you want it."

Spi took the envelope. "I'll keep that in mind." She tucked it into the pocket of her summer dress. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a view to see."

Mr. Prescott took her elbow and guided her toward the elevator. “Hold my calls Kara,” he said as the elevator doors opened.  “I’m taking our rising star out to lunch.”  

Spi smiled as they rose to the top of the building.  It had been a very good morning all around.