by Claire Adams
“Yes. Unfortunately, I don't have a place for you if Andrew kicks you out tomorrow,” Misty said. “Unless you wanted to sleep in my closet.” She grinned crookedly. “It's been good. The girl's name is Nicole, and she's a law student, so she's not around the apartment very much. Nice, though, and very clean. Probably the best living situation I've ever had.”
“I resent that!” I said. “I make a great roommate.”
“You do,” Misty agreed. “But the cranky baby wailing at three a.m. leaves something to be desired.”
I laughed. “Yeah, don't I know it.”
“Anyway, nothing major has been happening. I went out for drinks with some of my coworkers last Friday, and that was kind of fun. I miss going out with you, though. You made a much better wing-lady than Christina from accounting.”
I felt another pang of guilt. “I know I haven't been the best friend lately, but I feel like things are really looking up for me now,” I told her. “And you know that as soon as I have the money to come out for drinks with you again, I'll be there.”
“Hey, relax,” Misty said, reaching over to grab my hand. “I was just teasing. I know that you're busy right now, even beyond your financial situation. You just concentrate on you, and I'll also concentrate on you, and eventually, we'll get you and Emma back on your feet again.”
I smiled at her. “You're the best friend,” I told her. “I don't know how I got so lucky.”
“Maybe you used up all your luck with meeting me, and that's why you've had shitty luck with everything else,” Misty suggested.
We both burst out laughing, and I felt happier than I had in ages. For the first time, it felt like maybe things were finally starting to turn around for me, just like Misty thought. I could only hope so.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Andrew
In a fit of anger, I tore up the former meeting agenda. There were a number of important points on it that I wanted to discuss, but it looked like we weren't going to have time for them. Instead, we were going to need to focus this meeting on the company's recently published quarterly revenue numbers. Exclusively.
I had, of course, planned to touch on those numbers, but I hadn't expected them to be as bad as they'd ended up being. Not that Orinoco was in any sort of trouble, but we hadn't even come close to hitting our internal goals for the quarter.
It might not seem like much; the company was still surpassing its competitors in terms of productivity and revenue, but those internal goals were in place for a reason. Once we started slipping on those, it was only a matter of time before some other company toppled our dynasty.
Put simply, if we didn't continue to grow, we were stagnating or worse.
When I stalked into the meeting with the company executives, I could tell from the hush and a couple pale faces that they knew exactly what was coming. It was no secret how I handled the company.
I slammed the quarterly report down on the table, glaring around at the rest of the men and women gathered in there. “Let me see a show of hands if any of you haven't seen the latest quarterly numbers.” Nobody moved. “That, at least, will save me from wasting the time going over them,” I said sarcastically. “Does anyone want to take a guess at what I'm so upset about?”
Still, no one moved. I snorted. “See, this is exactly the problem. You all seem to lack ambition. No one wants to be the first to step forward. And we can't afford that, in the industry that we're in. I'll give you one more try: does anyone want to tell me why we can't afford that in the industry that we're in?”
Silence. I scowled and pointed towards the intern, Bobby. “Bobby, why don't you come up here,” I said. It wasn't a suggestion.
The kid paled and hurriedly made his way towards the front of the room, even though I knew that if he really had his way, he'd be running from the room as fast as he could.
“Bobby, why don't you tell everyone what you think,” I said. Again, not a suggestion. “Why can't we afford a lack of ambition in the industry we're in?”
I could practically hear him swallow. “Because if there's a lack of ambition, there's a lack of innovation,” the kid stammered, looking over at me to see if he had answered correctly, before quickly turning his eyes back towards the rest of the executives.
“And?” I prompted.
“And, uh, if there's a lack of innovation, we don't stay ahead of our competitors?”
“Are you asking me that?” I said incredulously. “Bobby, go sit down.” The kid scurried to obey. “Is that the problem?” I asked snidely, glaring around at the executives. “Do you all have some uncertainty on whether or not we need innovation? Because let me tell you, our competitors are already snapping at our heels. We're one step away from being just another has-been. But it seems that some of you would rather rest on our laurels than continue to improve the company, is that it?”
“But sir, we're still increasing our profits,” one of the marketing executives protested.
Everyone else turned to stare at the man, myself included. It wasn't unheard of for someone to speak out during these meetings, but everyone knew that the person who spoke out during these meetings got fired immediately. It had been a while since anyone was stupid enough to do that.
The marketing exec seemed to realize what an error he'd made as soon as the words left his mouth. He squawked and put his hand over his mouth, looking as though he'd give anything to take those words back. His face turned an interesting shade of purple.
For a long moment, I just stared at him, letting his fear sink in. “And tell me, Mr. Harrison, do you think that our internal goals have no purpose?” I asked him.
“Of course not, sir,” he said, tripping over the words in his eagerness to get them out.
“Does anyone want to tell me why we have internal goals?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the quaking man. No one spoke, but this time, rather than call someone out, I slammed my hand down on the table, making all of them jump. “We have those internal company goals for the same reason! The only way we're going to keep our profits up is if we continue to improve as a team. The world is changing, and our industry is changing every day. Every day, there's a new competitor out there. Every day, the other companies in our industry are watching us and trying their very hardest to overtake us. If we start to relax, if we let ourselves slip, we're one short fall before becoming obsolete. Does everyone understand that?”
Everyone was again silent. It was on the tip of my tongue to continue the dressing down, when suddenly, unbidden, I thought of Lexi. I wondered if this is what it had felt like for her, being fired from her job. Becoming the scapegoat for the company, despite the fact that she'd churned out plenty of good work in the past.
Because I could tell that she'd done a lot of good work in the past. That presentation that she'd done for me, despite the fact that she'd been expecting to give a totally different type of presentation, had covered everything that I'd needed it to cover and then some.
Mr. Harrison, Jack, also turned in plenty of great work as a marketing executive. I knew that because I was still micromanaging the company at every turn, and I could tell you exactly what every one of the men and women in this room did on a daily basis. Suddenly, the idea of firing one of them over this just seemed petty.
I sighed and sat down in my seat, flipping open to a new page in my notebook. “Well?” I asked. “Can anyone come up with any reasons for why we didn't make our internal goals for the quarter?”
Everyone around the table exchanged glances, as though they thought it was some sort of trick question.
I raised an eyebrow at them. “Come on, you all must know something, either related to your own department or otherwise. Let's start with marketing for this quarter. We focused on online advertisement, as usual, but we also put up some billboards around Seattle. Jack, what were the numbers on those? Do we think they worked? If not, why not?”
Jack looked startled. He cleared his throat, looking around the table again as though he was hoping fo
r someone to throw him a lifeline. But everyone else just looked surprised. Jack cleared his throat again. “We think the billboards worked, sir. We wouldn't have paid for them if we hadn't thought they would work.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Do we have any evidence that they were effective?”
Jack straightened, seeming to gain confidence. “We do,” he said, flipping open the folder in front of him. Come to think of it, it was the first time I could remember seeing one of the executives flip open their notes and reference something during a meeting. It was at least the first time in a long time. “We polled people as they made purchases through the Orinoco site. Granted, not everyone answered. But out of those who answered, a surprising number of them said that they saw our billboards and thought to purchase their items through our site.”
He paused and glanced around the group. “Bear in mind that the focus for these billboards was letting people know about things that they could purchase through our website which they might not otherwise have thought about. For example, one woman purchased groceries through the site after finding out she could. A college student bought a new phone through the site. The push was that they would find increased selection on our site, as well as better prices than they might find if they went to a brick-and-mortar store.”
I nodded. “So we know that the billboards were working,” I said. “Does anyone know any issues that we might have had this quarter?”
“There was bad weather,” Bobby said, clearly wanting to make up for earlier.
“Go on,” I said. “What does bad weather have to do with anything?” I had a feeling I knew where it was going, though, and that feeling was confirmed as he glanced over at Tim, the head of our logistics team. Tim remained silent, but he nodded encouragingly at Bobby.
“In February, there were a lot of delays,” Bobby said. “With highways being closed due to avalanche risks through the midwest and ice in other places as well. That affected our supply chain and our delivery times, so we weren't able to meet our guaranteed shipping times in all cases.”
“We did have to shell out a lot of money in partial refunds when products didn't arrive by the dates they were supposed to,” Margot, one of the accounting execs, piped up. “Even though those products were eventually delivered to the customers, because they didn't meet the guarantees, that meant that we weren't making as much profit per product.”
“And it also led to a lot of negative consumer sentiment,” Michelle added, nodding her head. “There were a lot of negative reviews that got posted to product pages strictly because people were upset about how long it took to receive certain orders. There were also a number of people who vowed not to use Orinoco again because they didn't trust our shipping guarantee, even if we did, as Margot said, give people partial refunds when we didn't meet those guarantees.”
“That negative consumer sentiment wasn't just regarding late deliveries, though,” Jack mused. “There was actually a surprising amount of negative feedback on the billboards where people didn't want to use Orinoco rather than a brick-and-mortar shop to purchase certain things like groceries. I guess it felt too impersonal to them.”
“All right,” I said, pleased with the way the discussion was going. “So maybe that's what we need to focus on in the coming quarter: eliminating, or at least minimizing, that negative consumer sentiment. Helping people realize that even though they're purchasing those items with the intermediary of a large corporation, it still goes back to those same mom-and-pop shops. That's where we're getting a lot of our products from. How are we going to do that?”
The rest of the meeting was productive. At first, things were still a little quiet. No one wanted to be wrong. But as I continued to give positive feedback on various ideas, more and more people began to chime in. They still seemed terrified, perhaps more so now than they had when they'd been able to predict what my reactions were going to be. But it was productive all the same.
“All right,” I said as we began to wrap up the meeting. “Those were some good ideas. Now, I'm not going to fire anyone because of last quarter's failures. However, I do want us all to try to incorporate some of what we've discussed in this meeting into what we're going to do for the coming quarter. Let’s see if we can not only meet our internal goals, but surpass them.”
There was another glance shared around the table. Everyone looked frightened.
“I'm not going to fire anyone next quarter if we don’t surpass those goals,” I said, rolling my eyes, even though inwardly, I was starting to wonder about company morale. “The company is still increasing its profits, as was mentioned before. That's what I like to see. I'd just like to see more.”
They stared at me as though I'd gone insane.
I stood abruptly. “I believe that's all we have time for today. If you have any further inspiration, you know where to find me.”
I couldn't remember the last time someone had come to my office just to chat about an idea. Usually, I needed to summon them there regarding perceived issues that the company was having.
The only thing I could think about, as I headed back to my office, was that I had never realized what an asshole I'd been to my employees before.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lexi
I smiled at the picture that Emma was proudly showing off to me, even though I didn't really see the unicorn that she was going on and on about. It was cute to see her so excited, though.
“We'll hang it on the fridge,” I promised her. Then, I smiled slyly. “Or maybe Daddy will hang it up in his work office.”
Andrew was allowing Emma to continue calling him Daddy, although neither of us had told her to call him that. Still, he didn't want to advertise the fact that he had a child. He'd still hang the picture up in his office if Emma asked him to, but he'd be forced to come up with some sort of story explaining where the picture had come from.
Maybe it was a little mean for me to encourage that, but I didn't mind.
“All right, kiddo, it's time to get you to bed,” I told Emma as she wound down her story about the unicorn.
She pouted. “I don't want to,” she said.
“But remember the new stuffed animal that Daddy brought you from his trip?” I asked her. “Don't you want to go cuddle with him?”
“Can you tell us a bedtime story?” Emma pleaded, and I smiled at her.
“Of course, I will,” I said.
“But make it like one of Daddy's stories,” Emma commanded. “I want princesses.”
I stifled a laugh. “All right, I'll tell you a princess story, just like Daddy does,” I promised. “Come on, let's go get you in your pajamas.”
I led her upstairs to her “big girl room.” Emma had been sleeping with me during the month and a half that we'd been staying there, and eventually, she'd needed to have her own bed. But rather than move a new bed into the room with me, like I'd expected, Andrew had decided to give Emma her own guest room to stay in. The place had rapidly been filled with toys and pictures on the walls, and Andrew had even gone so far as to hang glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling.
Emma was thrilled with it, and I'd heard her telling Janice about it more than once, even though Janice, of course, already knew about the room.
It made me wonder what was going to happen when we had to move out, when Emma lost her own room again. I still hadn’t found a job, although I'd resumed searching, and even if I managed to find a job, it would need to be a well-paying one indeed if I was going to afford a place with two bedrooms, in addition to paying for Emma's daycare and all of her other needs.
I pushed that thought out of my mind, helping Emma select a pair of pajamas for the night and getting her changed into them. I told her a bedtime story, one with princesses. She drifted off to sleep before the princess even left the castle.
I retreated to my own room. Even though it was a guest bedroom in Andrew's mansion, it had, in fact, started to seem like my own room. I hadn't gone so far as to hang up anything on t
he walls or otherwise personalize the place, but I did know where all of my things went, from clothes to knick-knacks, and everything about living there started to seem strangely normal.
That was dangerous, given that Andrew and I still hadn't had any sort of talk about what we were going to do long-term. I was still expecting him to come home with some floozie and give me an ultimatum for getting myself out of the house.
I didn't know when he was going to find us that apartment downtown that he'd once talked about. I knew that he liked having Emma around, but there was no reason why he needed to keep me there as well. I had once told Misty how afraid I was that he was going to sue for custody of Emma, and I was starting to wonder if that might really be his plan, once Emma could demonstrate that she loved him just as much as she loved me.
But surprisingly enough, Andrew was starting to spend more time around the house as well. We'd done a number of things as a family over the past month, ever since our outing to the Children's Museum. One day, he'd taken us to the zoo. Another day, we'd gone for a cruise on the water. Some days, we just went into downtown and wandered around.
Andrew was, of course, still overworking himself. He wouldn't have been Andrew if he wasn't. But he was working from home a lot more frequently, spending lunches with Emma and me in the kitchen. A lot of times, he would take a break in the afternoon and entertain Emma then as well.
It was starting to feel very domestic around the house, and the best part was, it all felt natural between us. We weren't forcing this relationship.
That said, we needed to talk about the long-term plan, and soon. Before Emma got too attached to the place and to always having her Daddy around.
Before I get too attached, I thought.
I swallowed hard, trying to think of how to even approach that conversation. The trouble was, I didn't want to leave. We were comfortable there, both Emma and me. Of course, every time Andrew inquired about my job search, I felt slightly guiltier about how I was basically taking advantage of him. I was terrified that his response was going to be to kick me out and take Emma as his own. No matter how much he seemed to have changed, I didn't trust him to be kind to me.