Carol’s pos


    The sleek car glides through the city streets as we move toward the big event. My boss sits in the seat beside me as a private driver transports us. A strange tension hangs in the air. Neither my boss nor the driver have said a word, and there isn’t even any music ying to ease the silence.


    Luckily for me. I brought a few documents with us into the car to continue reviewing. I’m re-reading a particrly difficult section when Daniel looks at me strangely out of the corner of his eye.


    “Why are you looking at those?” He asks. I look up at him with confusion. You have me these documents. Are these not the right documents? I worry suddenly. Instead of questioning him, I try a more diplomatic response.


    “Well, I want to be prepared for the promotional event,” I say. He raises an eyebrow at me.


    “It’s not going to be that in-depth. I mean, it’s just a thirty minute interview.”


    my area of


    I almost drop the papers in my hands. “What?” My initial excitement detes, reced by a surge of uncertainty. Why


    that isn’t even close to my would they choose me for a live interview? I don’t have any particr press experience expertise. The thought lingers, unanswered, as we approach our destination.


    è most popr


    To my shock, the venue isn’t just any corporate gathering. We pull up outside arge studio that belongs to the talk show in the entire city- the same ce that Aiden had his interview that revealed my existence. The revtion hits me like a tidal wave. This isn’t just about promoting my achievements. I realize. This is going to put me in the spotlight, live. with no safety. All I can do is hope that the questions remain professional.


    As we step into the studio, the bustling sounds of activity surrounds us. We are given a quick tour of the set. The set is vibrant and lively, perfectly set for performance. A performance I’m not sure that I canplete.


    I try to quell the rising nerves as I prepare myself backstage. A few crew members apply some foundation and eye makeup to me before I can tell them otherwise. I see Daniel getting the same treatment out of the corner of my eye, too. The amusement of watching him attempt to dodge lipstick is my only source of amusement in this chaotic situation.


    1 barely feel like we’ve arrived when we receive the notice we’re only five minutes from the show stopping. I’m holding a clipboard with a few quickly-written notes tightly against my chest.


    Daniel waves off the makeup people who’ve begun applying somest-minute powder to the both of us. “You don’t need that,” he tells me. “Just smile and nod, okay?”


    The pit of dread only grows in my stomach as Daniel and I are queued to enter the stage. Dozens of cameras point at us. They might as well be loaded guns from how the sight makes me feel.


    1 try my best to smile and act politely as the interviewer begins to ask us questions. I try to rx and answer as well as I can. I attempt to respond with eloquence. I focus on what I know. I speak briefly on my achievements, the projects I’ve led and my impact on thepany. However, as soon as the initial pleasantries are over, the interview switches gears


    “So, Carol,” the interviewer says. “I have to ask the question the whole world has been wordering. How does it feel to date the biggest star in all of hockey?”


    I stiffen at the question. This is exactly what I didn’t want to have happen. I smile as politely as I can. “My personal life has been quite exciting recently,” I say vaguely. “I can assure you I am still highly motivated in my professional life.”


    “But the world needs to know what you two have been up to!” The interviewer insists. “Aiden Cruz made quite the stir on this talk show just a few weeks ago. Care to give us all the juicy details?”


    No, I don’t care to, I think, but I manage to hold my tongue. Tm afraid that isn’t why I’ve been invited here today,” I say. I look to Daniel for some kind of support. To my shock, he ps my shoulder in an overly familiar way.


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    “Nonsense!” He says. “No need to be so stuffy. I always encourage a healthy work-life bnce in my office. So, why not talk about your life, too?”


    I feel a pit of dread form in my stomach. It’s bing more and more clear by the second why my boss actually brought me here. I wasn’t invited for my unique expertise-I was invited for my brush with fame.


    The interviewer continues to ask probing questions. She asks me about everything, leaving no stone unturned. She asks meAll content ? N/.?vel/Dr/ama.Org.


    at the practice event, even about whether or not I have gotten to meet his family. about how we met about the ki


    The difort intensifies as I find myself with no choice but to respond. I reluctantly share small fragments of my personal story. The interviewer almost seems delighted by how private I want to be. I try to share as little as possible, but it’s impossible to keep everything hidden away with both the interviewer and my own boss staring at me expectantly.


    As the talk show progresses, I be increasingly aware of the underlying agenda. My boss, seemingly pleased with the dramatic turn, allows the interviewer to guide the conversation to cespletely separate from our business practices. The difort of promoting my personal life in a public forum intensifies.


    Atst, the talk show nears its end. My boss barely makes an effort to direct things back toward business only a few minutes from the end of the time slot. The interviewer has clearly gotten what she wants. She closes things out happily and insists on giving me a hug before finally letting me leave.


    As


    my


    boss and 1 walk offstage, the apuse of the crew around us feels deafening. As soon as we’re off the soundstage. Daniel ps me on the shoulder once again.


    “Well done, Ms. Miller, he says. “Expect another event like thister this week, Keep up the good work and you might just be in line for a raise.”


    I stare nkly at Daniel A member of the crew approaches him and hands him an envelope-inside it, I can only imagine there’s a check for a hefty sum of money.


    In the shadows backstage, away from the scrutinizing eyes, I grapple with the conflicting emotions that surge within. The unexpected turn of events, the invasion into my personal life, and the looming prospect of more publicity weigh heavily on me. My boss, seemingly pleased with the oue, doesn’t seem to notice even as I remain silent for the entire drive back to the office.


    As I stare out the window of the car as the city passes by. I can’t help but y over the interview again and again. Who knows how many thousands of people watched me promote myself shamelessly on live television?


    Maybe I’m moving toward a raise, but I fear I’m moving toward something much, much worse. I unwillingly used my own boyfriend for fame. I find myself dwelling with one nagging question – at what cost?