“Got it,” Claire had nodded.
“Well, every business has a different process for the sales and various data they need to collect. Your business would certainly collect different information than Telco, right?”
Claire had liked the sound of Maureen calling it her business, and she’d wondered if she would ever reach her goal. If she wanted enough money to venture out on her own, however, she had to concentrate on the pearls of wisdom dripping from her co-worker’s lips.
“What the business analyst does is quite fun. The IT department will build the software, but the analyst—you—tells IT what the business wants the software to do. You go talk to the salespeople in the business, or in this case, the department, and take notes. From your notes, you figure out what they need the software to do, and you write it down more formally, and that’s the BRD, a business requirements document. You give the BRD to the IT organization, Phil Harley, and test what they build to make sure the software meets the needs of the business or department you are supporting. That’s it.”
“That’s it? I can do that.”
“I know you can—especially if I give you examples of what all the documents should look like, review the process with you, and give you a briefing on what is expected of you regarding testing.”
“You rule, Maureen. I think you just saved my job!” Claire had thought back to her initial conversation with Nick and turned to her in confusion. “Wait a minute. Nick told me not to talk to anyone; he told me just to copy the existing requirements—the ones for the software that domestic sales use.”
“Therein lies the rub.” Maureen had plugged in Claire’s printer, and as she printed off reams of paper, Claire had looked at her meager supplies and hoped she had enough. The most she had ever printed was MapQuest directions and occasional recipes when she and Sally were feeling ambitious. “Nick knows that, if he speaks to Global users, he will get requirements that are different from domestic, because they are selling different products. He will then have to extend the development timeline to longer than five weeks, which is not what he promised the new guy to try to impress him.”
“If what you are telling me is true, though—that Global sales need a different software—that means that Nick will give them something in five weeks that they won’t be able to use. What happens then?”
“That will be Satish’s fault, since he built it,” Maureen said as she’d started stapling.
“That’s not fair!” Claire had frowned.
“That’s the way smarmy business politics works, and Nick is a master of smarmy. The executives don’t care how easy the software is to use; they just want the reports that come out of it. Once the software is released and all the little people start complaining about it, Nick will just say it wasn’t built correctly and start sending people to Satish. No matter how much the IT folks say they didn’t get the right requirements, Nick will manage to turn it back on them. Remember, he’s a smarmy expert. Nick looks great because he beat a timeline and Satish looks bad because they have to start over.”
“So, why is Satish so well-regarded?” Claire had asked, eyeing the size of the stack of stapled papers Maureen had handed to her and feeling a little intimated.
Maureen had laughed, “Nick may think he is important, but he’s a peon! His work is only a small portion of Satish’s responsibilities. If Satish left Nick on his own, he would crash and burn once the executives had enough examples to put two and two together. Satish really cares about Telco, though. He wants to do what is right, and he hopes he can get Nick to understand the time and resources he is burning doing the wrong thing. Satish doesn’t understand smarmy politics, so he doesn’t understand Nick.”
Claire had no idea how Maureen knew all of this or why she was sharing so much with her, but she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. By the time the evening had ended, Maureen had convinced her that the only way to do the job was to do it the right way: collect the requirements—the right requirements—and present them to Satish. He would tell Nick that they couldn’t meet his five-week timeline after she had delivered the BRD.
According to Maureen, Nick would be insanely furious with Claire for not following directions, but Satish would be impressed, and if Satish thought she had done an excellent job, Nick couldn’t touch her.
Claire knocked again on Satish’s door. She most definitely wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing by ignoring Nick’s instructions, and her heart was pounding in her chest. Was that because Maureen had insisted she share the plan with Satish, or was it just because of Satish?
“Yes?” Satish called from inside his office.
She strode in, trying to appear confident. His back was to her and he was typing with an unfinished bagel with cream cheese sitting on the desk next to him.
“Be right with you,” he said over his shoulder. She stood, hugging her papers to her chest and fidgeting, as he finished whatever he was working on. He spun around in his chair.“Yes, can I help—” he stopped in mid-sentence, and she could have sworn he blushed.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Satish. I know I should have spoken to Phil first, but I thought I could run some things by you, so you could let me know if I was on the right track—the track you would like me to be on, I mean. I know you're worried because you know of Nick and all that, and I thought I could show you some of my ideas.”
She waited for him to speak.
Is it possible, she wondered, for anyone to look more uncomfortable than he does right now? He shifted in his chair, cleared his throat, and looked her straight in the eye. This time, she was sure he blushed, and he dropped his eyes quickly again. Oh, no, she was too late. He had already decided that she would disappoint him and was not going to give her a chance.
“I’m sorry, um…”
“Claire,” she supplied.
“I know your name,” he shot back bluntly, but he blushed again and smiled at her.
He had the most gorgeous smile; even if his lips hadn’t moved an inch, she would have known he was smiling just by looking into his black eyes. When she did look into them, she felt like she could fall in. They were a still, midnight-black lake that she could slice through with slow, lazy arms and feel totally enveloped in warmth and contentment. Claire laughed out loud at herself. What was she, a poet? If she was, she had better take some classes or something, she decided.
Satish looked at her, bemused, “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I guess I jumped down your throat there.”
Oh, if only you would, thought Claire. She walked to the guest chair, still smiling.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said as she sat down. “I know I am a little forward, but if you could give me just ten minutes, I promise I will leave you alone.”
Satish cleared his throat again, and Claire couldn’t help feeling sorry for him—he looked uncomfortable with this request. Based on her conversation with Sally and everything she had furtively found out about him since, she guessed he was dead against defying protocol. She also wouldn’t be surprised if he had already spoken to Nick about getting her off the project.
“Alright, carry on,” he said.
“Great.” She smiled, but this time he didn’t. “Well, the project Nick asked me to work on was driven by a request from the new VP of Global. He wants software to give him the same reports that Domestic VP gets. This is where I was looking for your guidance, because here’s the thing: I have been speaking to a few of the sales guys about the existing tool, and not only do I think the existing software won’t work for them and will drive them insane, but I have also heard that the domestic sales guys have a ton of problems with the existing software, so why would we just replicate it?”
Satish looked at her in silence for a few minutes and then said, “We would replicate it because Nick and his team are in charge of business requirements. We don’t have the opportunity to speak directly to the end-users, which is what you would normally do.”
“I was instructed by Nick t
o just replicate the requirements for the existing software and submit them to you. I thought maybe I would do it differently, though," she paused, "if you agree.” She put her papers on the desk, gaining a little confidence.
Satish pulled over his bagel, “Go on.” He leaned back and took a bite.
“Well, I was thinking I would do my job and get the real business requirements from the Global salespeople,” she waited while Satish chewed, “if you think that’s a good idea.”
“Have you spoken with Nick about this?”
“No. I thought I would come see you first.”
“He won’t agree to it—it will change the timeline. It could be six or eight months, this way, and he would have to go back to the new VP and tell him that.”
“It won’t matter if he can explain to the VP that we are doing it the right way; I won’t tell him if you won’t.” Claire grinned at Satish and willed him to smile back. He didn’t disappoint.
“Well, Claire, you have a deal.” He reached his hand toward hers, and as they touched, her stomach did a little flip. Oh my God, could you be anymore cliché? Get a grip, will you? Her body disregarded her efforts to restrain herself and yearned for his skin. She pulled her hand away, however, before it was obvious that she wanted to leave it on his.
“Thanks, Satish. I’ll let Phil know the meeting schedule.”
“Well, unfortunately, Claire, you can’t do that. Phil has jury duty for the next three weeks, so you will have to run the meetings on your own. I would like to review the output. Please make sure you get a daily slot on my calendar for a review.”
“Okay.” Claire had heard two things: “on your own,” and “daily review.” What had she gotten herself into? She was terrified about conducting these meetings on her own, and a regular visit with Satish would do nothing to ease her anxiety when just being around him just made her thoughts run into wildly inappropriate places. She started gathering her things when she noticed a picture on Satish’s desk of two drop-dead beautiful girls. They were all shiny, black hair and bright, red lips with not even a trace of makeup.
“Your wife?” she asked, nodding toward the photo.
Satish’s face went soft, “No, that’s my little sister, Nandita, and… and her friend. She lives back in India.”
“She is beautiful. If she isn’t married, yet, I bet she has her pick of husbands. You must miss her.”
“Yes, I do.” Satish looked up and Claire found herself unable to look away. A man of few words, she thought, but intense. He broke the stare and looked toward his unfinished breakfast. “Forgot coffee again,” he said, and Claire realized he was talking to himself.
“Do you always eat breakfast in your office?” she asked.
“Yes, unfortunately. I get here rather early, so the cafeteria is still closed. I always mean to go get coffee when it opens, but I get caught up in things.”
“I could bring you a cup,” Claire spoke before she thought about it. “I mean, not like a secretary, but I could bring one for you and one for me, and we could have a cup together during our meeting. That way, you’ll remember to take a coffee break. I usually get here early, too—right as the cafeteria opens—so it would be no problem.”
The silence stretched on a second too long before Satish said, “That would be… nice.” He then swung his chair back around to his computer.
“Great,” Claire said to his back. “See you tomorrow.”
She was still trying to swallow her extra heartbeats when she got back to her desk. Her phone was ringing, and she picked up the receiver without looking at the number to hear her dad’s voice gushing through the phone.
“Claire, honey, I am so proud!”
She dumped her notebook on the desk and stuck her head over the wall into Sally’s cube to glare at her. “Thanks, Dad, but it really isn’t a big deal.”
Sally mouthed the word “sorry,” but she didn’t look it.
“Not a big deal! Sally’s mother just called me this morning. Only three months on the job and you’ve been promoted already! I always said you should be in business. I knew it would be a perfect fit for you. Business analyst—it sounds important.”
“Dad, really, it isn’t important, and it isn’t a big deal. It’s just a small promotion. Please, don’t make a big deal, okay—you’ll only make me nervous—and don’t tell anyone.”
“Of course I won’t tell anyone, honey, although I spoke to Uncle Mike this morning, so I had to tell him. Beth was there, as well, and you should have heard her—she was so happy for you that she was laughing.”
Oh, God, thought Claire, the worst person he could tell. Her cousin, Beth, hated her guts. She had made Claire’s life miserable ever since they were seven years old when Beth had realized that being an only child meant Claire got three times as many Christmas gifts as she did. She had tried to give her one of her My Little Ponies to make up for it, but it hadn’t worked, and Beth had grown up to be a bitter, unhappy, and spiteful woman. Claire’s dad had been in complete denial of it, though; he could not understand how two cousins the same age were not the best of friends. Only her dad could think that Beth was laughing because she was happy for her. No, Beth was laughing at Claire’s nearing downfall.
She would not let her dad down, though. He wanted success for her so badly. Ever since Mom had died, he had dedicated his life to supporting her dreams. Had she just made a massive mistake? Was siding with Satish on this the wrong choice? Would Nick fire her?
10
Satish
Satish had spent yesterday trying to keep his mind off of today. He tried to persuade himself to go to Nick’s office and get Claire removed from the project, but it didn’t seem fair. He was impressed with the way she had risen to the challenge, and he had to admit that the reason he wanted Claire off the project now had nothing to do with the work and everything to do with how she made him feel. Granted, Satish had limited practice at conversational skills, but he was usually quite confident in a work situation.
Yesterday morning, Claire had rendered him practically speechless. It had been her comment on Nandita that had made him agree to coffee. For an instant, when she had spoken of his sister having her pick of men, he had been flooded with relief. Claire can tell me what to do about Nandita, he had thought. Now, on the next morning, however, alone in his quiet office, he was more realistic. You can’t even speak to her about work; how could you possibly speak to her about something so intimate?
He turned to his computer to craft a response to Nandita’s last email. He had been thinking about her imperious questions for a few days. How did he feel about choosing one’s life partner? Did he want that? Did he feel that his father was doing his sister a disservice by not allowing her that choice? He was struggling with how to respond when there was a gentle knock on his door.
“Come,” he called out. He thought he had spoken in a strong, confident voice, but the echo sounded a little shaky to his ears.
Claire came tumbling in holding a cup of coffee in each hand and had a stack of papers tucked under her right arm. She had pushed open the door with her shoulder, and when she turned to kick it closed, the papers under her arm went crashing to the floor. A few swung in lazy arches to rest on the rough, brown carpet.
“Great,” she laughed. “Way to impress you with my organizational skills.” She put the coffee cups on his desk and crouched in her gray pencil skirt to scoop up the papers. Satish jumped up from his chair to help her, and as he was trying to figure out a way to bend to the floor without getting too close to her bare legs, Claire held her hand up to stop him.
“No, I can get them, thanks. After all, I’m the klutz who dropped them. That’s your coffee on the right, by the way. I didn’t know how you liked it, but I guessed straight black. Am I right?”
Satish was leaning awkwardly against his desk. He knew he should respect her request, but he didn’t feel comfortable sitting back down while she was crawling around on the floor. He tried to avoid looking at her curves and
focused instead on retrieving his coffee. “Yes, thank you. Black is lovely.”
Claire had finished collecting the papers and stood, wiggling her hips as she pulled down her skirt with her free hand. Suddenly, she went completely still. “Oh my God!” Her mouth was a lovely little O, and Satish turned to her line of sight to see what had caused her outburst. All he could see was his chair, though, and he turned back to her in confusion.
“That pillow cover,” she breathed, “is gorgeous.”
Satish smiled with pleasure and reached over to hand Claire the pillow he had been sitting on. “It’s Indian silk,” he said.
“I know—I collect it.” She took the pillow and smoothed it with her tiny hands.
“You collect Indian silk?” Satish watched her and marveled at the calmness that replaced the recently frantic expression.
She looked up at him and smiled, “Yes, my mother collected it. My dad was stationed in India for a while and used to send her silks all the time. She had a unique passion for them, and I guess it transferred to me. This one, though, is extraordinarily beautiful—and an antique. Unfortunately, I can’t afford antiques like this, yet, but I hope to, one day. The embroidery is exquisite. Did you buy it in India?”
Satish reached out to take back the proffered pillow and the backs of their hands brushed. He wondered how skin could be so sensitive. That brief touch had squashed his ever-present anxiety for a moment. “My sister made it,” he said, pointing to the photograph on his desk. “Nandita—we spoke of her briefly yesterday. Her mother has been teaching her to embroider since she was a small child. Does your mother embroider or do anything with the silk, or do you both just collect it?
“I like to design and make clothes and accessories. Indian silks are my specialty. My mother passed away, but she taught me a great deal before she died.”
Unraveled (Jersey Girls Book 1) Page 5
