by Kelly Myers
It’s not going to work on me.
But he can think it’s working if it will get him to leave me alone.
I blink my eyes and smile up at him.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’m excited to work with you. I’ll shoot you over an email, ok?”
With that, I turn into my office. I know I can’t do the whole job over email, but at least for today, I think I deserve a respite.
I slump against my office door.
At least I got the client. Sort of.
Then I picture Michael’s smarmy smile, and I want to throw something. Preferably at his face.
This is going to be an uphill battle.
4
I carefully fold my favorite sky blue blouse, making sure it’s even before I place it in my suitcase.
I’ll wear it on Friday, when most of the meetings with the client are scheduled.
I’m packing for New York, and I should be pumped about my biggest assignment, but I keep thinking about Michael and getting angry instead.
Marianne pokes her head out of my closet.
“You totally need to bring this to NYC!” she squeals.
She’s holding an itty-bitty black dress with silver beads along the (very high) hemline. I used to wear it out to clubs right after graduating college, when every weekend was a massive party. It’s way too skanky for a work trip, and I only keep it out of nostalgia.
“Um, no,” I say. “Do you know what I do?”
Marianne rolls her eyes and flops onto my bed.
I smile down at her.
“It is a good dress,” I say. “But I can’t be a party girl this week, I have to be a Serious Corporate Shark.”
Marianne smirks as she rolls onto her stomach and props her chin in her hand. Her mop of curly hair is sticking in all directions.
“I still don’t get why you’re upset,” Marianne says. “You got the client you wanted, right?”
I sigh and toss a pair of slacks into my carry-on suitcase. I never check luggage on a work trip. I like to keep everything in my sleek little roller bag.
I have everything I might need spread out on my bed, above my floral quilt. I adore my apartment. It’s in Lincoln Park, which is, in my humble opinion, the prettiest neighborhood in Chicago. Plus it’s an easy commute downtown for work.
“Yes,” I say. “But teaming me up with Michael – it’s like my boss doesn’t trust me to handle it on my own.”
“Or he doesn’t trust Michael,” Marianne says. “Don’t you usually work in teams anyway?”
“Yes, but someone always takes the lead,” I say. “There’s a clear line of hierarchy.”
Marianne raises her brows.
“But now we’re splitting the lead,” I say. “It’s unnatural.”
“Or it’s just like co-captaining,” Marianne said.
I turn and shake my head. I don’t have the time or energy to explain to Marianne that my job is not a team sport.
Besides, it’s not just this one client. I don’t like the far-reaching implications.
I feel under-estimated. Which can be a good thing. If I were in a boxing match, for instance, I would be happy to be under-estimated. I could use the element of surprise to my advantage.
Only I’m not in a boxing match. This is my career. And if I am constantly under-estimated, I’ll never get the promotions I want. I’ll just sit still and stagnant for years and years.
I love my company. When I graduated college, I drew up a list of everything I wanted in a job. Good salary, potential to grow, long-term promotion opportunities. Beatrice told me I was being too picky, and Marianne told me I should take a few years off to travel and explore and find myself, but I didn’t need to do that. I already knew who I was and what I wanted. And Hastings had everything on my list. I want to go far at Hastings. But I never will if my superiors overlook me.
“The whole thing is a disaster,” I mutter.
I stare at my closet and try to decide between my navy pumps and my black pumps.
“Look, you always say that things are a disaster,” Marianne says. “And you always end up triumphant in the end. It’s actually one of your more annoying qualities. Zoe Hamilton talks about failing, but never actually fails.”
I know she’s trying to cheer me up, and I do appreciate it. But every time I think about having to work with Michael Barnes for the next several weeks, I want to burst into tears. Not that I would ever cry in the office. That would be a surefire way to delay any and all promotions for several years.
Zoe Hamilton? Oh no, not her, remember that one time she cried at the office.
When I get upset at work, I do what real women must. I go to the bathroom, eke out a few silent tears in the stall, then spritz my face with a rose-scented moisturizing mist and get back to it.
“I know I won’t fail,” I say. “I just don’t want to spend all this time with Michael.”
I climb up onto my bed and sit cross-legged beside Marianne. As soon as I got home from work, I abandoned my chic little outfit that I thought would land me the big client and got into some sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“What’s so bad about him?” Marianne said. “Besides the fact that he’s competition.”
I frown for a minute. The competition between us is certainly a major factor, but there are other things. I just want to make sure I explain them properly.
“He’s so –” I start. “He’s just –”
Marianne gives me a quizzical smile and raises one brow. I roll my eyes.
“He’s just so charming,” I blurt out.
“Charming?” Marianne asks. “Oh, how awful and unbearable. How dare he be charming?”
Her voice is saturated with sarcasm, and I laugh despite myself.
“No, it’s the worst type of charming,” I say. “It’s all calculated and fake.”
“Huh, that would be annoying,” Marianne says. “But how can you tell it’s fake?”
I clench my hands in fists and hit my knees lightly for emphasis.
“I just can,” I say. “I have impeccable instincts.”
“Do you remember that time you told us all that the guy in your Euro History class was a cheat?” Marianne asks.
“What?” I ask.
I’m puzzled by her sudden change in topic. I took that history class junior year of college. I can barely remember the professor.
“You went on and on about how you could tell he was plagiarizing because his essays kept getting higher scores than yours,” Marianne says. “You were so obsessed and would always sit so you could look over his shoulder to peak at his grades or catch him not paying attention during lectures.”
In a flash, the memories resurface. I was obsessed over the classmate and his supposed cheating for weeks. It wasn’t exactly my finest moment.
“And then you actually hatched the absurd plan to get your hands on one of his essays so you could prove he was a cheat,” Marianne continues. “You offered to give him feedback on a draft, and you spent an entire weekend combing the internet and downloading that plagiarism software with no success, and it turned out he was actually just really good at history essays.”
“Ok, but that was a minor mishap,” I say. “That has nothing to do with the current situation.”
“No, that was you being obsessive and judgmental,” Marianne says. “Just like you’re being now with Michael.”
“This is so different,” I protest. “Michael has actually gone out of his way to mock me!”
But Marianne is determined to prove her point, and her eyes light up as she remembers the rest of the story.
“And then the guy asked you out,” she says. “Because he thought you liked him since you were always staring at him in class, but you said no, even though he was really cute and smart.”
I turn bright red at the memory. I had been mortified when he asked me out, and I realized that all my previous behavior had made it appear as if I was harboring a massive crush.
I had been so em
barrassed, I hadn’t even considered saying yes.
I pick up a pillow and toss it at Marianne. It’s unfair that she has such a good memory for dramatic occurrences in our little group. And it’s ridiculous that she’s bringing that incident up now, in relation to Michael Barnes, who is in no way similar to the guy in my history class. That guy just had shady characteristics; Michael is undeniably evil.
“Michael is out to get me, trust me,” I say. “He is going to undermine me at every turn on this. Our styles are totally different – he’s going to want to be all suave and charismatic, and he’ll never follow any of my plans or bother to actually strategize. The clients will be charmed by him, but they won’t be happy three months from now when the merger isn’t as neat as it could be.”
Marianne wrinkles her nose at all my technical talk.
“Ok, that sounds like a legit concern,” she admits. “But I still think you’re being a little too judgmental about Michael.”
I open my mouth to object, but she cuts me off.
“It’s not a sin to be charming,” she says.
I sigh and lean back against my headboard.
“It is when he’s more charming than me,” I say.
Marianne rose to her knees in a burst of energy.
“So, that’s the issue!” she says. “You’re jealous of him.”
With anyone besides my closest friends, I would lie. But I never could fake things, especially with Marianne. Something about being a performer makes her crazy good at reading people.
“A little, yeah,” I say. “Schmoozing with all the other people in the office just comes so easy to him.”
“You’re charming too,” Marianne says.
“I know, but it’s in a vaguely uptight way,” I say. “Like, everyone likes me well enough, but that’s just because I’m super competent.”
“Nonsense,” Marianne says. “You have other amazing qualities.”
I shrug. I know I have good qualities, but I don’t really need to show them off at work. It’s not the place for them.
“You’re an amazing dancer,” Marianne says. “Seriously, no one can memorize a boy band routine like you.”
I laugh out loud at that. I used to make us do choreographed dances in college all the time.
“And you are a shockingly good baker,” Marianne says. “No one frosts a cupcake like you.”
“Ok, ok,” I say. “You’re gonna give me a big ego.”
“That’s another thing,” Marianne says. “You have a very healthy amount of self-esteem. Confidence is sexy, you know.”
I stand up and resume my packing. Despite her bizarre comments on Michael, she is lightening my mood.
I’m actually starting to look forward to the New York trip. Marianne grabs a maroon dress from the pile on my bed.
“Take this,” she says.
It’s a nice dress that is form-fitting without being too tight, and it hits me mid-thigh to show off my legs. It’s not exactly office wear, but I do love it.
“Just in case you go out to dinner or something,” Marianne says.
I shrug and fold the dress before placing it in the suitcase.
“Who knows?” Marianne says. “Maybe this weekend will be romantic. You will have a very charming companion.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I contemplate throwing another pillow at her.
I love her for cheering me up, but she does get the craziest ideas sometimes.
5
“And after we go over the phases, we need to say something reassuring,” I say. “Something light so they don’t get overwhelmed.
I’m sitting in the back of a car with Michael. After taking an early flight and settling into our hotel, we’re on our way for the initial meeting with the Meyers and Blunt people who are in charge of the merger.
Michael is looking over my color-coded outline. I’m worried none of it is going to sink in, but he’s actually reading it. Or, at least, he put his glasses on.
I didn’t even know he had glasses. They make him look a lot smarter. Like a gentleman scholar. They could be fake. I narrow my eyes. Yes, the glasses are probably a calculated move to make people think he’s some sort of intellect and not the washed-up frat bro he is.
“This is clever,” Michael says.
I blink in shock. Did he just compliment me?
“The way you named the phases to make everything clear,” Michael says. “It’s very clever.”
“Thank you,” I say in as prim a tone as possible.
Others might fall victim to his charms, but I shall not.
Michael nods and glances over the outline again.
“You should conclude the presentation,” he says. “And then I can tell a joke to put everyone at ease.”
How very on brand for him. I have to be the No-Nonsense Outline Lady, and he gets to crack jokes.
Then again, it’s not like I want to be the one to joke around. It’s not my style at all.
“Sounds good,” I say.
I give him a bit of a side-eye. I can’t resist poking him, just a bit.
“Are you going to jot down some of your best jokes on your hand?” I ask. “And then practice it a few times to make sure it sounds all spur of the moment.”
To my surprise, Michael grins and doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“Oh, I already practiced a bunch back at the hotel,” he said. “My punchline is practically Oscar-worthy.”
I let out a small humph of laughter. Not real laughter though. Michael Barnes can not make me laugh for real.
It was just a polite giggle.
“One,” Michael says.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m keeping a tally of how many times I can make Zoe Hamilton smile,” Michael says. “That was one.”
I roll my eyes. He probably has some bet worked out with the other guys at the office.
“I smile all the time,” I say.
“Not always for real though,” he says.
I scoff as if I could care less what he thinks, but I have to admit I’m shaken up. My fake smile is pretty damn good. It’s odd that he thinks he can tell the difference.
The car pulls up outside the office. I suck in a deep breath as I look up at the intimidating skyscraper. Michael has been a distraction, but seeing that office, I’m reminded of how big this client is. This is a career-defining assignment, if I can just get it right.
“Ok, we’re here,” I say.
“Game faces on,” Michael says.
I nod once and get out of the car.
We meant to meet someone named Gloria in the lobby. Sure enough, a smiling woman waits for us.
“From Hastings?” she asks. “Pleasure to meet you.”
We introduce ourselves and shake hands. Then Gloria leads us to a silver elevator.
For this initial meeting, I’ve gone with my Dressed to Kill Look. Black tailored pants. A black blazer. My hair is swept into a neat updo, and I’ve got bright blue earrings and a green top peaking out beneath the blazer to add flashes of color.
Gloria leads us to a conference room, and we’re introduced to all the key players. I take careful note of their names, positions and characteristics. Lucas has a sour face and squinty eyes. Bridget has a big smile, but her foot is fidgeting the whole meeting.
I’ll need to communicate my mental notes with Michael later. He looks way too blase ́, so I’m sure he’s not really paying as close attention.
Once introductions have been made, we launch into our presentation.
First impressions are everything in the consulting world. We typically work with clients for two to three months, sometime longer depending on the job. In that time, we have to show them that we are competent. We also have to learn just about everything about their company and then convince them that we have plans and strategies to improve the business.
During this first meeting, if we don’t exude confidence, the clients will be hard to win over. The whole assignment will be like a battle in whi
ch we try to prove ourselves.
The presentation is brilliant. My summary of our overarching strategy and the phases I’ve planned out is brief and efficient. I don’t cut corners or waste time with useless tangents. I get to the point, but I sprinkle in enough interesting facts to keep it interesting.
Michael adds a few comments here and there, but other than that, he lets me run the presentation. Which is good. He’s a decent public-speaker, but I know his skills are more suited to one on one conversation. He’ll be valuable when it comes to meeting with each person individually.
When I finish, the clients nod, and Michael cracks a joke about how they don’t need to worry, they won’t be quizzed on the phases of mitosis.
I have to admit, it lands well. It’s not too risque and it’s just self-deprecating enough.
I’ve never had a runner’s high, but I know it must feel like a perfect work presentation. It’s as if I’m floating a few inches off the ground. As if I’m a well-oiled machine that was designed for my job by the best engineers in the world.
After we’re done presenting, we make some small talk with the clients, and then Gloria takes us on a detailed tour of the entire office.
I want to take notes one everything, but I know it will make me look messy, so I do my best to memorize what Gloria says.
While I focus on that, Michael chats and flirts with Gloria the whole time.
I feel a prickle of annoyance as he makes her giggle like a schoolgirl. Which is absurd. This is how Michael does his job. He puts everyone at ease. It’s what I wanted him to do.
So why am I frowning every time he winks at Gloria?
It’s all part of the plan.
But I mean, seriously, who winks at people anymore? It’s weird.
Although Gloria doesn’t seem to mind at all.
When the day is over, we say our goodbyes and head back to the hotel.
As soon as we’re in the car, I whip my notebook out of my briefcase and start jotting down notes.
“You saw how small their video editing team was, right?” Michael asks. “That’s gonna need to change.”
