The Overlap

by Lynn Costa

  But of course, leaving aside the disconnect between what was good for our firm and what was good for us individually, the fact that Dustin was enduring this hazing ritual 2,000 miles away meant that I had been able to meet Zack Buchanan and had been on a fantastic first date with him the night before. So while I definitely felt sorry for Dustin, I couldn’t help but selfishly feel glad that he was exactly where he was, enduring exactly what he was enduring, because his doing so had opened up new opportunities for me.

  * * *

  The rest of Sunday night was passed by watching a bit of television, though I couldn’t concentrate on anything I was watching. My mind was half a day ahead, onsite at MetroGen Monday morning, encountering Zack for the first time and the intimate smiles we would give to each other. A stolen moment here and there throughout the day, and then maybe tomorrow night would be our “early next week” setting for the dinner we had agreed upon! Twenty-four hours from now, Zack and I could be at dinner again... and then who knows where things might go and what might happen.

  Chapter 5

  Monday, September 16th

  One year ago in Miami, during training, our instructors warned us that there would be days when we would question with our very being why in the world we had accepted our job offers to join this firm. No matter how much we overall enjoyed what we were doing or how ambitious we were, they told us, we would face days that would – to quote Thomas Paine, the guy from the American Revolution – try men’s (and women’s) souls.

  Monday was one of those days.

  I was just about to walk out of my apartment at 7:45 that morning when my cell phone rang and the caller ID indicated it was this guy Dave Evers, the senior manager (basically, partner-to-be if he could make it through the gauntlet of the partnership selection committee) in charge of our project.

  This probably isn’t good, I was already telling myself as I pressed the “talk” button on my phone’s screen.

  And it wasn’t.

  “How’d you like to go to New York for a couple of days?” was his immediate question following my “hello.”

  “When?” I asked, dreading the answer that I was pretty sure was coming.

  “This morning, in a couple of hours.”

  Well, I had pretty much figured he wasn’t going to say “next week” or “for Columbus Day” or something like that; otherwise why call me on my cell phone this early rather than wait until we were onsite at our client?

  I fought the panic that was approaching me like an onrushing tsunami.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Ah, nothing really,” came his weasely reply. “But I was researching on the Internet over the weekend and found out about this boutique graphics firm in New York, in SoHo, that’s piloting some state-of-the-art animation technology. So I e-mailed Margie last night and suggested we should head out there to meet with them and try to bring them into the fold, and she concurred.”

  Margie was one of the MetroGen directors (not a movie director; you know, director-level types in the corporate world, a little bit below a vice president) and one of our primary clients. That wasn’t the important part to what I had just heard. What I did hear was that Dave Evers made this off-the-cuff suggestion to MetroGen that didn’t sound so critical it had to be done today. And not only that, he was wallowing in consulting-and-techno-speak like “boutique graphics firm” and “piloting” and “bring them into the fold” and “concurred” instead of talking like a normal person. Not to mention that he admitted spending his weekend “researching on the Internet” with, most likely, the express objective of trying to find some little nugget that he could use as an excuse to contact our client on a Sunday night.

  “Only for two days,” Dave sounded disappointed as he shared this news. He seemed to be the type that would love to get on a project like Dustin was on right now; the “we own your life and you live on the road” type of assignment. The word around the L.A. office of our firm was that Dave was a long shot to make partner, so apparently he was pulling out all the stops to get himself back in contention when the partner selection committee met at the end of October. And one of the tried-and-true tactics in the consulting world for that sort of thing was that if things were going smoothly, see if you can quietly manufacture a low-level crisis at one of your clients so you can be a hero and solve it! So there was half a chance that no matter what a couple of guys (that’s usually what “boutique firm” means) in New York were doing and how good their stuff was or wasn’t, Dave would come back with some change in direction for MetroGen to try and look like he was personally coming in to save the day for them.

  “Well technically three days,” Dave corrected himself before I could ask if I really needed to go. He just kept on blabbering:

  “I was thinking 48 hours or so from the time we leave until we get back, but it will actually be most of today then all tomorrow and then we’ll be back sometime Wednesday afternoon. So yeah, more like three days.”

  That asshole!

  * * *

  I texted Zack with this terrible news as soon as I hung up with Dickhead Dave, as he would forever be known to me. I actually thought about changing his entry in my phone’s contacts to exactly that, but then figured if I left my phone on a desk at our client site and he called me and then someone saw it, I would be in some serious trouble. So I would keep his new name of Dickhead Dave to myself... but of course would share it with Kensington and Courtney, neither of whom would be coming with me. At the very least Dickhead Dave could have brought them along also, but no way! It would just be him, me, and two of the geekier guys on the project who most of us wondered why they were even working for our firm. But they were both pretty good computer guys and part of our project was related to technology. So the firm needed guys like them for projects like the one I was working on now. I just hoped they had the sense to realize that they had about a zero chance of ever making partner here with the firm’s BMOC culture, and got out after a couple years to someplace where they would be more at home... and not laughed at behind their back, as a couple of the frat boy types did on a regular basis.

  So there would be no Monday night dinner with Zack; nor Tuesday, either. We were supposed to get back sometime around 2:30 P.M. on Wednesday; we would leave New York around noon but pick up the three hours of time zone change in our favor, so the day wouldn’t be totally lost. Of course I fully anticipated that Dickhead Dave would expect us to do an extra-long day onsite to make up for any flying time today as well as Wednesday we couldn’t bill to MetroGen, but he could go... well, you know.

  I sent Zack another text when I hadn’t heard back from him within a couple of minutes:

  SO SORRY about this how about Wednesday for dinner?

  I was pulling out all the stops in my second text to Zack after the first one in which I dropped the bombshell of me having to go to New York. I wasn’t waiting for him to ask me for a specific night. Even as I was typing the message, though, I prepared myself to receive a disappointing reply back from Zack; something like “sorry have 2 go back 2 Seattle again Wed” or something like that. So I was already prepared to immediately send back “Ok Thurs?” if I needed to but just then Zack’s text reply came through:

  Bummer about tonight but sounds good for Wed even if you get back late NP

  Then, seconds later, he sent me another text:

  Can’t wait Z

  Yes! As pissed as I was about this whole New York trip and what it meant about me not seeing Zack today – or tomorrow – his messages back were just what I wanted to see. I had been nervous almost all Sunday, with me not being in contact with him, that for Zack with a new day came a different perspective about me, about my relationship with Dustin, and all that. But from his text, the magic of Saturday night was still there on his side as well as mine.

  I texted him back to confirm that I had received his messages and would keep him posted on my travel. I fought the urge to end my text with a heart or lips or some other emoticon other tha
n a smiley face; those are pretty much always safe, right?

  * * *

  I got to LAX around 9:45 and our flight was scheduled for 11:00. Fortunately most of the heavy travel for the morning had already passed so going through security took only about ten minutes. I met Dickhead Dave and the nerds (okay, Steve and Jack; I guess it isn’t really fair for me to label them like that) at the gate, where Dave had told me we would all rendezvous. Our flight to JFK would take five and half excruciatingly long hours, meaning that after losing three hours because of the time zone change we would be arriving around 7:30 P.M. New York time. Then figure an hour to get out of the airport and to our hotel, which meant – get ready – after checking into our hotel, somewhere around 8:45 or 9:00 I would then have the tremendous pleasure of spending the next hour and a half eating dinner with the three guys traveling with me... when I could have and should have been at dinner with Zack! This was not fair, and I was not a happy girl!

  I had hoped that with the last-minute travel plans our seats would be scattered throughout the plane and I wouldn’t have to sit next to, or even in the same row, as any of the other three; but no such luck. I wound up in a row on the right side of the plane with Dave and Steve (who was actually okay, even if he was – sorry – nerdy). I wound up with the window seat which ordinarily I prefer but I had a hunch I would have to get up to go to the rest room at least a couple times during the long flight. I secretly hoped that Dave, who of course was in the middle seat right next to me, would be a plane sleeper so each time I had to go I would wake him up. That would pay him back at least a little bit, right?

  We had Wi-Fi on the flight so the first thing I did was log on from my cell phone. I also put in my ear buds to listen to my music. I think Dave expected me to work during the flight and then when I wasn’t working to talk with him, but I had no intention of doing either. Besides, with Wi-Fi I could text from my phone while I was listening to music... which meant that conceivably I could at least share a few messages with Zack.

  I knew exactly how I would make that happen, or at least try to. As soon as I was able to get online I would text him just to “let him know” that I was on my way to New York, and that I had Wi-Fi. And then, if he wanted to and had time he could text me.

  Sure enough, right after I texted Zack he answered back only seconds later with:

  Wish you were here instead would have enjoyed dinner tonight oh well

  Great; another reminder that if this jerk sitting next to me typing away on his laptop hadn’t pulled this stunt, I would be only hours away from my second dinner, my second date, with Zack.

  “I thought Dustin was in Chicago?”

  The voice coming from my left startled me, and I shot my head to the left and saw Dave staring right at my phone screen. That asshole was looking at my texts! I quickly looked back at my phone and saw that my left thumb was resting right above the top part of the screen where it read “Zack Buchanan” which meant that – unless Dave had been staring while I had been typing before I adjusted my hands – he didn’t know that the reference to dinner tonight was not only not from Dustin, but that it was from some other guy.

  I choked back the bubbling anger and made sure I kept my thumb in place.

  “He is,” I answered in as even of a voice as I could muster, considering how pissed I was. “It’s from a friend.”

  And with that response I flipped my phone over so the screen was facing down until I was certain that he wasn’t peeking anymore, and then turned it back over long enough to flick it to the home screen.

  Dave let it go without any further comment, but I don’t think he truly believed me. Tough; it was none of his business, and for all I know maybe he hoped I was texting with some guy other than Dustin because that would mean that maybe he had a shot with me. Even though he was married I could tell that he had the hots for me, or at least a little bit of an office crush. Otherwise why would I have gotten stuck on this crap trip?

  Anyway, so much for texting back and forth with Zack – thanks again, Dave! – but the more I thought about it, the more I came to think that might not be such a bad thing. Since I was all set for dinner again with Zack on Wednesday, presuming no travel problems, maybe I shouldn’t come across as quite so available and anxious. He already knew that I liked him and was very attracted to him; no sense in pushing it too much and texting him every couple minutes like a high school girl with a crush. So right after the seatbelt sign went off and Dave got up to use the bathroom I texted Zack to tell him that my boss had seen his text and was acting funny, so I better not text him much more from the flight. He sent back a text without any words, just a single emoticon of a cartoon character’s head with bulging eyes, an open round mouth, and two fingerless “hands” on the character’s cheeks; sort of that “oh, no!” look like the kid in Home Alone.

  And that was that for communicating with Zack. Dave was just coming back to our row and Steve got up to let Dave in. I could feel my eyes narrow as I glanced to my left as much as I could without fully turning my head. I thumbed my phone to the home screen and checked the time.

  11:45, L.A. time; “only” four hours and forty-five minutes to go! OMG, this was going to be unbearable!

  * * *

  The fates must have felt sorry for me and decided to cut me at least a little bit of a break because in our limo from JFK into Manhattan at around 8:45 that night Dave said to the three of us:

  “How about we all individually do room service or something like that tonight since it’s so late and we have an early one tomorrow. I’ll take everyone out to dinner tomorrow but this way if anybody wants to get to sleep early, or just relax, you can. Otherwise we’d be out until around 11:00. Sound okay?”

  I couldn’t believe how fast Steve, Jack, and I all answered “sure!” or “sounds good!” as we stomped over each other’s responses. Apparently neither Steve nor Jack was up for another couple hours of face time with Dave... at least tonight.

  The rest of the night definitely was categorized under “meh.” We were staying at a boutique hotel in SoHo and my room was really nice; my room service dinner was really good; and there were about 125 channels available on television. And there were plenty of clubs within a short walk of the hotel, if I had cared to venture out (leaving the other three behind, of course). So as business trips go, that part was just fine. But the whole time I kept looking at the nightstand clock and (as I adjusted for the time zone change) kept thinking that if I were back in L.A. I would be getting in the shower before my date with Zack; then getting dressed and putting on my makeup before my date with Zack; and then – this would have been the best part – actually on my date with Zack.

  I had to just keep telling myself that I only had 48 hours to wait and then the date that I was playing out in my mind would be a reality.

  Chapter 6

  Tuesday, September 17th

  What a total f’ing waste of a day.

  This “boutique graphics firm” turned out to be a group of four NYU dropouts who were hooked on video games and had some interesting ideas for doing some innovative computer animation in movies, even over slower networks on cell phones and tablet computers. But only ideas, despite whatever exaggerated claims they had put on their website that had caught Dave’s attention. They basically were looking for investors to help them turn their ideas into something that was... wait, what’s the word... oh right, real.

  And the worst part was that even though we realized within twenty minutes of showing up at their office at 9:30 that they had nothing of value to us or to MetroGen, Dave didn’t have the balls to just pull the plug on this colossal waste of time and head back to L.A. Instead, he turned Jack and Steve loose with these guys and I swear I wanted to start a drinking game and take a shot of tequila every time I heard some phrase like “aspect ratio” as geek-speak filled the room. For two solid hours until lunch all of the nerds, theirs and ours, went back and forth about things like better ways to make tree shadows wave across a computer-aid
ed house so someone in a movie theater couldn’t even tell that what they were watching was animated. I mean, this was sort of interesting stuff and all, but not only did I not really need to sit and listen to a group of computer nerds go to the dark side of GeekVille, I definitely didn’t need to be doing so in New York. I had nothing to add to the discussion whatsoever, so for the entire morning I just sat there, except for three trips to the rest room two flights down in their converted warehouse office building. (By the way, only one of those bathroom trips was genuine; the other two were just so I could get out of that room for five minutes and regain my sanity).

  And worst of all, what they were talking about had nothing – absolutely nothing – to do with our firm’s project at MetroGen. So I have no idea what in the world Dave was thinking, even if them “piloting new technology” or whatever Dave had told me on the phone Monday morning had turned out to be more than someone’s dream of the future.

  And like they say on the infomercials you sometimes watch when you can’t sleep (or maybe taking a break between rounds of late-night sex): “But wait: there’s more!”

  We didn’t even go out for lunch; instead they brought in sandwiches from a deli while the back-and-forth continued. A couple of these guys were having a whiteboard frenzy; they couldn’t write and draw fast enough, and I swear one of the guys from this company looked like he was about to come every time either Steve or Jack agreed that whatever he had just scribbled was an absolute work of genius.