The stench of cigarette smoke lingered over my workstation long after he was gone.
I opened my hidden files and clicked on a folder labeled "IMPORTANT — DO NOT DELETE."
Inside were eight floor plans for Cloudridge, 108 design proposals, and 2,888 design sketches.
Every single one drawn by my hand. Every single one revised by me alone.
Every last sketch had only one name on it. Mine.
Not one of the other twelve people in the design department had contributed a single line.
Because none of them ever believed I could land this project.
When the Cloudridge luxury renovation project first launched, Edmund had been eager enough to submit a bid.
But out of 150 design firms, only 44 made the cut.
Pinnacle Design got eliminated in the first round.
Edmund gave up on the spot. I was the only one who kept going.
Every day, I showed up at the construction site and worked alongside the laborers.
Whenever I spotted something wrong, I spoke up. I was more thorough than Cloudridge's own construction supervisor.
One time, I noticed the bathroom drain placement was off and flagged it immediately.