Well, not yet.
I found Maggie stationed at a skirted table outside of the Imperial Ballroom. At the entrance behind her, a diagram has been pinned to the partition beginning a maze of exhibition panels and displays. A similar schematic is on the table where Maggie sits.
The ballroom is almost empty and its deflation of energy was palpable. A handful of people in lanyards milled around, the long day beginning to drape heavily over their shoulders.
Maggie is still smiling.
I introduce myself to Maggie and her supervisor, Elizabeth. They work for Bon Ton, the parent company for a portfolio of department stores, including the local Boston Store.
“What’s going on today?” I ask.
The supervisor, Elizabeth, says, “This is our global vendor fair. We invite suppliers from around the world to present their materials and make bids to produce for our private label.”
“Interesting,” I say, looking from Elizabeth to Maggie. “Who do I get to talk to about the event?”
Elizabeth, a short bespectacled blonde with a glint in her eyes and sideways smile, points to Maggie. “I’m delegating,” she says with a playful chuckle.
I turn to Maggie and she’s beaming.
“Sure!” she says, clearing the seat beside her.
“So, what’s your role?” I ask.
“I coordinate the planning and logistics for this event.”
“All of it?”
Maggie nods again, smiling.
“That’s kind of a big deal,” I say.
Maggie’s exact title is International Vendor Fair Event Coordinator – slash- Global Sourcing Specialist. One day, she tells me, she’d like to be director of events and communications for a non-profit. Just last year, however, she was a new college grad in search of a job.
“I studied PR and business at UW Stevens Point,” she says. “I started here as a temp a few months after graduation.”
“Not bad for your first gig,” I say.
“Yeah, I got lucky.”
As a temp, Maggie supported last year’s organizers by handling data entry and helping with logistics. “This is what I want to do,” she says of the experience. She even enrolled in classes at a local community college last fall to earn a certificate in event management. Maggie’s three-month temp assignment became seven months and, ultimately, a permanent full-time position.
“I was texting everybody as soon as I found out,” she says. “So excited.”
A facilities manager approaches the table to ask for clarification about the schedule.
“You can go ahead and lock those doors in back,” she says to him. “We won’t need to get in there until eight.”
I ask Maggie whether she’s already started thinking about tweaks for next year.
“I was just making a list,” she says excitedly. “Like, I want the reception to feel more like a party. It’s all business around here.”
She notices a hotel staff person fussing with a breakout room door. “That lock doesn’t work,” Maggie calls out. “You don’t have to bother with it. Someone’s coming back to fix it already.”
I ask Maggie if any of her family or friends might be surprised to see her in a role like this.
“Not at all,” she says. ‘
“Let me guess,” I say. “Captain of your sports team? President of your class?”
Maggie nods with a sheepish grin, “Yeah, I was class president.”
She’s also the oldest of five, three sisters and a brother from a town of about 10,000 people. “It was kind of expected of me to be a leader,” she says. “I’ve always liked pulling people together, making things happen.”
“What’s something else you’re challenging yourself to make happen, outside of work even?”
“Golf,” Maggie says. “My boyfriend is helping me learn. I’m not too awesome.”
“Not yet,” I say.
Big smile. “Right,” Maggie says. “Not yet.”
She turns her smile to a trio of women exiting the ballroom, heading toward the elevators.
“Bye ladies,” Maggie sings. “Have a good night.”
“What has been the hardest part about going from temp to official?” I ask.
Her reply was instant: “Making myself known.”
Maggie describes how the layers of management make it difficult for any higher ups to witness her talent. Common with most large companies, rookies rarely gain audience with the top brass. As the keeper of all the event details this time, Maggie hopes to parlay her logistics intel into a memorable interaction –or two– with her boss’ boss.
For the first time, I glimpse the fierceness and determination in her eyes. Far more than providence or discipline, this young woman is fueled by deliberate and raw ambition. As Maggie spoke, the sudden hard angle of her jaw nudged my imagination forward to the future version of her, with a commanding maturity and series of impressive notches to her resume.
“Has your plan been working?” I ask.
“It’s going well,” Maggie says with a slow smile. “He’s talking to me. He knows who I am.”
“When this is over, do you start planning for next year right away?”
“Not yet,” she says. “It’ll take a few months for us to process the orders that happen here this week. As soon as we get back, my temp will start to input–”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “You have a temp?”
Maggie smiles. “Yes.”
Of course. Of course she does.