It was depressing releasing something that was so flimsy but I knew making my deadline was the important thing now. I missed the days of working with Cameron. He could read the Exchange documentation and know exactly what information to give all the downstream teams. Then I could concentrate on my job; finding the fastest way to extract the data from the feed. Where did I go wrong? I couldn’t help hearing his lament in my ears.
When the first BelOpt meeting came round, Phil gave me a list of questions to ask. I read through them realising I’d have to repeat them like a parrot – I had no idea what they meant. I looked up the meeting schedule to see how many people would be there. Members of the Exchange, people from Desktop and the trading floor. I sank down behind my desk. They’d all be looking to me to direct things. My eyes darted over the agenda: research scope, market assumptions, time constraints. Maybe I could ask Cameron for help.
I went around to Cameron’s cube. His hands were covering his head over his desk.
‘Hey, Cam.’ I lightly tapped his shoulder.
‘Can you explain pointers?’ He asked miserably.
‘Do you have a solid idea on what variables are?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Then probably not. I was looking for a firm yes there.’
‘Is it an address or is it memory?’
‘It’s an address in memory.’
He thought for a moment and then lowered his head to his hands again. ‘Fuck sake.’
I looked over at Sam’s cube. I could see the top of his head. ‘Sam,’ I called. ‘You have a moment?’
‘Yeah?’ His voice travelled over.
‘Can you give Cameron a hand? I have to go to an Exchange meeting.’
‘What’s up?’
‘He doesn’t know what a pointer is.’
‘Don’t know what they’re teaching them in college these days,’ he said coming round.
‘Yeah. What kind of programmer are you?’ I joined in.
‘You’re not funny,’ Cameron said.
‘What project you working on Cam?’ I asked.
‘Warsaw.’
‘Can you help him with Warsaw?’ I asked Sam.
‘Do you mean can I do it for him?’
‘Perhaps you can do it for him, next to him, showing him what you’re doing.’
‘I suppose so. This is bloody ridiculous. No offence, Cameron.’
‘None taken.’
‘You know, we could just let you do it yourself,’ Sam said.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘I mean indulge upper management’s delusions, let it fall on its face.’
‘Mate,’ Cameron groaned.
‘He won’t get the blame,’ Sam continued. ‘He’s a junior and he’s not a programmer. They need to see how crazy this is.’
‘We can’t just make Cameron the scapegoat.’
‘Why not?’
‘You can’t just do whatever you want you know.’ My hands went to my hips.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, dropping the stance.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Cameron said again.
‘Ahoy ahoy... what do we have here?’ Boris stopped as he passed by, naturally drawn to a group.
‘Just chatting,’ Cameron eventually replied when Sam and I didn’t respond.
‘Chatting? There’s no project code for that on your timesheets, is there.’
‘How about we stay ten minutes late to make up for it?’ Sam asked.
‘Oh, whatever, son. No need to be so touchy. I’ll leave you to it.’ Boris went back to the aisle but then turned around. ‘Sam, Desktop haven’t received that AsiaCap spec yet. Can you see you get it to them by Friday.’
‘I’m not writing their spec.’
‘What do you mean you’re not writing it?’ Boris said. ‘You don’t have a choice mate.’
‘I’m not writing a spec for a group I don’t know anything about.’ Sam bent down looking into Cameron’s screen.
‘Excuse me, mate.’ Boris came back to the cube. ‘We haven’t finished talking. Leave Cameron’s screen alone for a minute. Now I’m asking you to do something.’
‘It’s not happening.’ Sam straightened up.
‘I can probably help him with it,’ Cameron said between them. ‘And Sam could help me with Warsaw.’
‘Well, I’ll have to talk to Felix.’ Boris was still looking at Sam.
‘Fine by me.’ Sam replied, holding the stare.
Boris adjusted his tie and walked away while people within earshot pretended not to be looking.
Sam pulled up a chair next to Cameron and sighed. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here.’
‘That makes two of us,’ I said. I turned towards the meeting rooms realising that now I was late.
Chapter Seven
No one accepted Boris’s drinks suggestion on Friday night. I replied by copying him on an email to Phil about the Exchange meeting. I had felt backed into a corner as I tried to answer queries from all sides. Traders, heavy-set in pinstriped suits scowled and huffed, well practiced in using annoyance as an intimidation tool. In the minutes I included all the unanswered questions, reporting my inadequate responses. It was all I could do to protect myself. But, it wouldn’t be Phil who would get the blame if the project came in late or wrong.
I snuck out early, my mind numb with boredom and anxiety, just as a 5-Minute Snap was starting on internal T.V. Sails Beneath The Sales opened with the Sales team waving from a yacht washed in sea spray and champagne. I longed for my couch.
When I got home, I briefly considered cooking something but there was no food in the fridge and the supermarket was ten minutes away. I ordered Chinese instead and collapsed in front of the T.V.
Over a movie I could hear a wind picking up. I woke through the night to hear it crashing down around the house like waves. Outside streetlamps were creaking and moaning and every now and then something was whisked along the ground bringing me back from sleep.
In the morning a gentle deluge was coming down. I lifted my sheet-curtain to see light branches had fallen across the road and leaves were stuck to the roofs of cars. The rain was making a smacking sound, beating up an abandoned umbrella. I turned back to my bedroom and looked at the scattered clothes and cosmetics. Still waiting for a wardrobe and with only a makeshift dressing table on the floor, the place was a mess.
Begrudgingly, I refolded my clothes into the boxes around my bed. Then I tidied the dressing table, gathering back together the scattered makeup and hair products. In the living room I flattened down some boxes ready for recycling and straightened the tall piles of CDs and books stacked along the walls. Everything I own is piled against a wall, I thought.
I had to cross the park to the tube station, in the afternoon. Bent trees showed the path of the wind overnight and new flowers had been whipped into shyness. I saw him standing beneath a tube sign. His leather jacket was buttoned to his chin and he was wearing chunky boots. He held open an A-Z and was squinting up at street names.
‘Lost your way, Columbus?’ I said.
‘I wasn’t sure which exit to come up.’
‘Yeah, I know, there’re loads of exits. But I’m on the other side of the park.’
We crossed the road and entered through the turnstile.
‘Glad it’s the weekend?’ I asked.
‘Silly question,’ he observed.
I wanted to talk about CouperDaye. I knew he was finally getting itchy feet but we had a rule.
‘Look at that little dog.’ I said instead. ‘He’s about to come off the ground.’ A miniature terrier splashed his legs in the breeze but he couldn’t quite get a grip. We laughed as his owner picked him up and cuddled him against her arm.
‘We’re here,’ I said when we reached the short driveway. We climbed the creaking stairs to the third floor and quickly went inside closing the door against licks of wind.
‘Wooh!’ I laughed and shook out my hair freeing smal
l leaves.
‘Doesn’t seem to be letting up,’ he said teasing a twig out of my hair. He freed himself of his bulky jacket and looked around the living room. ‘There’s good light in here.’ The floorboards creaked beneath his heavier step. ‘Here, this is for you.’ He handed me a paper bag.
‘Oh, thank you.’ I reached to kiss him but we got the side of each other’s mouth.
‘Nice paint job.’ He spotted the wall with patch-work colour samples.
‘What do you think? Cream and yellow colours for the living room.’
‘Right.’ He took his time, looking around at the windows and then up at the ceiling. He began inspecting the window frames, testing for an air gap. Then he knocked on the walls.
‘I did get a survey.’
‘Hmmm, just thinking, if you ever wanted to knock that wall, you might be able to extend the living room.’ He started tapping the floor.
‘I like the floor,’ I protested.
‘It’s sturdy,’ he agreed.
‘Would you like some of your wine?’ I offered, holding up the paper bag.
‘I’d prefer water if that’s okay.’
I went under the archway into the purpose-built square kitchen. ‘I had to clean everything in here. It was so filthy,’ I said, feeling the tap-water get cold on my fingers.
‘Cool,’ he said following me in. ‘You can cook me dinner sometime.’ His mouth found the nape of my neck.
‘I think that’s against our rules.’ I handed him the wet glass.
‘Then I could cook for you.’
‘Well, technically that’s the same thing.’ I ducked around him and went back under the archway.
‘Maybe we could cook individual meals in separate kitchens but at the same time,’ he said after me.
I looked back laughing but he wasn’t smiling. ‘Is everything okay?’ I stopped.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Mustn’t break the rules.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing,’ he barely shrugged.
I flapped a hand out gesturing the bathroom and then went in over the cool laminate floor.
‘What have you done in here?’ he asked leaning a hand against the doorframe.
I screwed my eyes at the question. ‘I’m going to replace the floor with the wood that’s out there.’
‘Wood in the bathroom.’ He cocked his head. ‘You want to make sure it’s sealed properly.’
‘Right.’ I raised my eyes to heaven.
‘Or not. You could just let it flood quietly below the floorboards.’
‘Maybe I will.’ I went back out underneath his arm and opened the opposite door.
‘Your bed.’ He recognised it, following me in.
‘It’s one of the few pieces of furniture I actually own.’ I ran my hand over the iron frame.
‘Well, you’ve got me where you want me,’ he said, coming towards me.
‘I’ve had a rough week.’ I pouted and leaned into him.
‘Me too.’
‘Let’s just forget about it.’
He brought his hand to my face and we kissed. I pulled off his jumper and kissed down his chest until I found the soft part of his stomach and then the tension and then the taste.
The sun winked off a glass tower as I made my way around the R&D floor to a Buddy meeting with Boris. I mentally went over the points I was going to make and joined him at the oval table.
‘This looks quite good,’ he said flicking through my BelOpt specs.
‘Boris, how can you say that? I don’t know what I’m doing.’
‘Has Phil taken a look?’
‘No. And he’s ignoring my emails now too.’
‘I’ll talk to him.’ He made a note.
‘Look, Boris, I’m really afraid of missing some requirement. I don’t know the significance of things and –’
‘Well that’s why we’re having these meetings, Orla. Flowcharts, please?’
I pushed them over and he began ticking boxes on a list. It was a checklist of what I had to produce for him.
‘Any word of our training yet? My deadline is only a few weeks away.’
‘You’ve had Market Data training.’
‘What? Was that it? An hour about terminology? That’s a joke. I mean, Boris.’ I started laughing, ‘this whole thing is just crazy. It’s going to fall on its face.’
‘You got a test spec written yet?’
‘No. Will write the test based on implementation.’
‘I thought we were incorporating test first development?’
‘Yeah. Test first development, Boris. Not test first design.’
‘Look.’ He put down his pen. ‘Can you just answer the questions without being smart?’
‘Oh... sorry.’
‘What’s your schedule for the rest of the week?’
‘I’ve started development on BelOpt and in the meantime I’ve passed that spec on to Desktop.’ I nodded at the specification in his hands. ‘Also working on a bug-fix for Germany and I have a few other investigation reports.’
‘What’s Germany?’
‘The IDs are being calculated incorrectly for OTCs. Looks like it’s always been there and no one’s noticed.’
‘Okay. Make sure you get your code reviewed by Sam before rolling it out. Any other problems?’
‘Are you joking?’
‘Look Orla. I don’t think your attitude is conducive to your situation, to be honest. I mean if I were you, I’d see this process as a positive thing. Something I could use to my benefit.’
‘Boris, do you not realise, I don’t know what I’m doing.’ I said it louder than I meant to.
‘It’s actually perfectly simple,’ he snapped back, ‘you try your best. If you’re stuck we’ll get you help. As a senior you should be able to handle this, Orla. Things could go smoothly, if everyone would just make the effort!’
The evenings were getting longer. Through the concrete landscape patches of daylight stuck around while I stayed back to take care of project updates. I became obsessed with detail. Where before I would update with a summary, now I made sure everything had an explanation. Exchange conversations. How long I’d waited for feedback. Test results. I had seen other peoples updates take this tone before and wondered if they were defensive for a reason.
There was always a noticeable drop in temperature around 8 p.m. If I was working late, the sudden cold air would tell me it was time to call it a night. One evening I was reading my project updates, going over about one week’s worth of work, making sure everything looked solid. I shivered and checked my computer clock, it was 8:15. I took out my earphones and sighed. I’d get home around 9:30. I couldn’t remember if there was food in the fridge.
‘Hard at it?’
I jumped, not realising anyone else was still in the office.
‘Just doing some paperwork. Working out deadlines and such.’ I recognised Boris’s voice and strained to listen.
‘Because I noticed some of those projects don’t have deadlines yet.’ The first voice was Felix. I peaked over my cube and saw him leaning on the frame of Boris’s cube.
‘That is what I am just about to update,’ Boris chirped.
‘Good. How’s everything going?’
‘Everyone is working away on a project. We have lift-off.’ Boris chuckled.
‘Glad to hear it. We can’t afford to take our foot off the pedal.’
‘Yes I know.’ Boris’ voice turned prickly. Tension amongst management had increased since network issues were threatening the Data Centre deadline. I refocused on my screen as I heard Felix say, ‘J.R. knows about some of the problems now.’ I had problems too. The one test result I hadn’t included in my updates was the one that was failing. My Strategies graph didn’t match the sample the Exchange had provided. A bug had slipped into my code somehow.
‘Why are you working late?’ Boris continued. ‘Doing a bit of fire-fighting?’
‘I’m overseeing a conference call in N
ew York – did you know the Chinese have the same word for problem as they do opportunity?’
‘Very wise, the Chinese. Is there... an opportunity in New York?’
‘The opportunity is for people to be empowered to do a better job.’ I heard a thud from Felix thumping the light cube wall. ‘Some people just want to sit around on their ass and stagnate.’ Felix’s voice rose with impatience. ‘But I’ve changed their job titles.’
‘I’ve been meaning to mention that actually. Perhaps a transitional period wouldn’t be such a bad idea,’ Boris said. ‘I mean, my guys have been asking for one.’
‘No, no, no. That is not acceptable. You have to stick with a plan.’
‘But perhaps they could help each other out a bit here and there. Just for a while.’
‘If you allow that, they’ll fall back into their old roles.’
‘Come on Boris,’ I whispered.
‘... and the transition will never happen.’ Felix continued. ‘What they need to do is use the correct routes to get the support we’ve put in place for them.’ Felix tapped the light frame as he spoke.
‘Well, the thing is though, the thing is, people feel like they’re being forced.’ Boris protested.
‘They are being forced. You know, people don’t like change. It’s human nature. They’ll always take the easy path.’
‘I suppose.’
‘People need a strong leader.’ Felix snapped. ‘Donald in New York doesn’t know how to lead. That’s why I have to stay back here tonight.’
‘Oh, I mean, I’m definitely –’ Boris’s voice came louder.
‘You see it in nature all the time,’ Felix interrupted him, ‘it’s instinct. Like a pack of wolves. If you’re not on board with a thing, they’ll smell it. They can smell weakness.’
‘I’m definitely a strong leader and I’m setting out clear steps for my guys to follow.’ Boris insisted. ‘I used to be a programmer, remember? So I know how to relate to them.’
‘I used to sit over there when I had your job,’ Felix said, ‘we were much smaller then. We weren’t even sure if London R&D would make it. You know I used to be a trader?’
The I.T. Girl Page 8