by Theresa Alan
It’s impossible trying to race through snowdrifts that are as tall as me. (Can you hear the theme music to Chariots of Fire blaring behind me as I plunge forward in my heroic quest?) But eventually, breathless, I beg my neighbor for his shovel and he gives it to me. I run back home where I put on boots, gloves, and a jacket. Thus attired I begin the process of clearing the snowdrift so I can leave my home. After just a very few minutes, I realize that this shoveling is not easy, particularly when you’re an out-of-shape weakling like myself. After twenty minutes of this, I’m sweating and the muscles in my arms and back are screaming, and I’ve barely gotten anywhere.
By the time I clear the driveway, there is no way I can make it to WP on time. I race through a shower and grab all my things and hit the road. The highways are treacherous. The high winds keep threatening to hurl my car into the median, and a thick blanket of snowflakes drifting leisurely from the sky makes it impossible to see. Several times the wind jars my car so badly my heart races with the thunderous fear I felt when I got into a car accident in high school. (I didn’t get hurt, but the experience was terrifying nevertheless.) I’m sitting on edge, my hands holding the steering wheel in a crocodile-death-grip, and I curse stupid Kyle Woodruff for not being leader enough to postpone our meeting to a day that doesn’t coincide with one of the biggest snowstorms in history. The thought flickers briefly through my mind: What if I died today? Wouldn’t he be sorry? Then I realize, no, of course, he wouldn’t be sorry. He doesn’t care about anyone except himself. He wouldn’t even feel responsible for forcing me to drive through this weather.
I get through the meeting despite wanting to strangle Kyle with my bare hands. I have another terrifying and LONG drive back—it takes me three times as long as usual to get home. But once I’m safely in my house, I open the window and look out onto the snow, which is glistening in the moonlight. Now that I’m not in that snow driving a two thousand-pound vehicle, I can appreciate how beautiful the snow is. I get a craving to go sledding, which is something I haven’t done since I was a kid. I could take a day of hooky tomorrow and just go have fun playing in the snow. The one problem is that I don’t know of any hills within walking distance, and I don’t want to drive a car through this mess again, so unless I can be teleported somewhere, I guess it won’t be happening.
I tell Anne about calling the wedding off. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but I sense disapproval from her.
“You don’t think I made the right choice?” I ask.
“If you feel you needed to break things off, then it was the right choice.” The room falls silent for a moment, then Anne says, “So, do you feel relieved?”
“I feel sad. Sad about hurting Will. And I feel confused. I thought marriage was what I wanted. Ever since our second date I thought it was what I wanted. My feelings for Will were overwhelming. Are overwhelming.”
“Why did you fall for Will in the first place?”
“The usual stuff. We were attracted to each other, we had fun together, and when I was with him, I felt like I could be myself.”
“That’s interesting because you said once you started dating that you started doubting yourself.”
“But that wasn’t because of him. It was just my own…” My own what? Insanity? Craziness? Lack of self-esteem? “It was just my own thing. I’ve had other boyfriends in the past who have made me feel insecure. Like I dated this guy named Chris once. Chris was a big fitness buff. He ran a jillion miles a day and was always Rollerblading and racing in marathons. He had a great body, really muscular but not in that weight lifter scary way, you know? But he kept telling me that I should lose ten pounds and work out more. I always felt like he tolerated my body but never liked it. I knew it was his own issue. I’m not going to spend my life worrying about being ten pounds skinnier than I am. I want to be healthy, but I have better things to do than worry about every calorie I consume. But the thing was, sometimes when we’d be having sex, when he’d close his eyes, I’d think about if he was closing his eyes because he couldn’t bear the sight of me naked, and that…well, it didn’t make me feel good, that’s for sure. And this other guy, I only went on a couple dates with him. On our second date we were trying to figure out what to do with ourselves, and he suggested that we go bowling. I said I was a terrible bowler. Then he suggested that we play pool. I told him I don’t play pool. He asked what I did for fun, and I said I’d been busy launching my own business and I’d never really had time for hobbies. So he said, ‘Do you cook?’ ‘No.’ ‘Garden?’ ‘No.’ ‘Golf?’ ‘No.’ ‘Ski?’ ‘No.’ Then he says, ‘How do you expect to find a husband?’ I think he was kidding. I think he was one of those guys with a dry sense of humor that can say something they think is funny and you never know if they are joking. But at the time, I was in one of those moods you get into after you go on one bad date after another and you start thinking that maybe the problem really is you, that there’s something wrong with you that you can’t find a guy you’re compatible with. I know it’s ridiculous, to start worrying that I’ll never find love because I can’t bowl well, but that’s how I felt at the time. Will…he’s never made me feel bad about myself. Sometimes he says he wishes I had more time for him, but I wish I had more time for him, too. Anyway, the point is, Will accepts me for who I am, which is why I love him. Somehow I decided that I loved him so much I wanted to be a better person than I was. I wanted to plan a perfect wedding and learn how to cook. Instead I got addicted to an illegal drug…”
Anne studies me for a moment. “Why don’t you like bowling?”
Huh? We’re talking about how I’ve broken off my engagement and am battling an addiction and she wants to talk about bowling?
“Uh…well, I’ve never been a big fan of sticking my feet into hot smelly shoes a million other people have worn. I don’t even like used clothes that have been washed, let alone sticking my feet into what can best be described as a potential fungus farm. And, I don’t know, it’s a silly game. What have you accomplished after you’ve gone bowling?”
“Why do you feel the need to accomplish something?”
I realize I completely set myself up for that. At first, I don’t want to broach the topic of how I have such a hard time relaxing, but then I realize the whole point of therapy is to deal with issues I’d rather not deal with. I give her my theory about how my father taught my sister and me to feel we constantly need to be productive.
“Tell me about your father. What sort of work did he do?”
“Sales. He hated his job. He also made furniture and sold it on the side, but he never made much from that.”
“Was he successful at his job?”
“Do you mean did he make a lot of money?”
“Is that how you define success?”
“When it comes to work, I think being a success means having a job you like or, if you can’t manage that, then, yes, to make money at whatever it is you do. Either way, my father wasn’t a success. He hated his job and he made enough to get by, but he never made a ton. He never got promoted, things like that.”
“Is that why you think he was so hard on you? Because he wanted you to achieve the success that he never had?”
I’d never thought of it that way, but it seems plausible. I nod. “Maybe. He really struggled to keep us in a good neighborhood so we could go to good schools. Money was always an issue. It’s one of the big reasons my parents got divorced. He probably wanted to make sure I didn’t have to struggle like he did. His father died when he was young, so he started working at a young age to bring in money. He and my mom got married when he was just twenty and she was only eighteen because she was pregnant with me.”
“Do you feel guilty about that? About being the reason your parents got married?”
I shake my head. “No. I think my parents would have ended up married to each other even if it weren’t for me. They really just always seemed like they belonged together. There has always been this fire between them. I think that if money hadn’
t been such an issue and if they’d had better communication skills, they could have had a good marriage to each other. I do feel bad that my father and mother had had so much responsibility heaped on them at such a young age, but I know that’s not my fault.”
I think about how my mother married zany fun Frank because she was ready to have some fun or how Dad has mellowed out now that he’s done raising kids and has Annabella in his life. He pressed Sienna and me to succeed because that was the only way he knew how to be a father. He was just trying to do his best to raise Sienna and me in a world where men aren’t given the skills they need to communicate their emotions. He didn’t do everything right, but my issues aren’t his fault. And it’s about time I start learning how to relax, so my relationship with Will doesn’t combust like my parents’ relationship did.
“Are you still having cravings?”
I study Anne’s office floor. She has chocolate brown carpeting that has to be at least twenty years old it’s so worn.
Finally, with a sigh, I admit to her, to myself, “Yes. Usually it’s just a quick flash. A thought that comes into my mind that leaves as quickly as it comes. One time I had a craving that was really awful. I was so cranky I felt like I could tear Will’s head off. The next day I got lunch with Rachel and she said that Sandy’s boyfriend is in jail. Sandy is sober again and she promises to stay away from her ex. I felt sort of stupid, you know, that I spent all these hours fantasizing about something I couldn’t have gotten anyway.”
“You probably could have found a way. Sandy’s ex-boyfriend isn’t the only drug dealer in Colorado.”
“But a bigger part of me doesn’t want to use. A much bigger part of me.”
“How is the group you’re going to?”
I shrug. “It’s good. The people in the group with me all used for a much longer period of time than I did. The stuff they did…well, they did things I never want to do. And I know that if I use, I will go down that road. I do not want to go down that road. I have far too much going for me.”
Chapter 41
W oodruff Pharmaceuticals officially buys Ridan Technologies in early February. Kyle Woodruff fires Michael Evans shortly after the purchase, saying he doesn’t want anyone who’s “not on board with a forward-thinking agenda” which is CEO-speak for “I only want to be surrounded by people who’ll do my bidding and kiss my ass.”
As I suspected, Kyle asks me to sign another contract for the rollout of their new product. I tell him my fears regarding timelines. He’s not amenable to me bringing in another consultant, and though he says we can work out timelines we both agree on, I don’t believe him. I tell him I’ll think about it.
Before I have to get back to him with my response, I check my email, and in it there is a Request for a Proposal (RFP) from a woman who owns her own business in Montreal. She found me through my website after doing a search online. I so rarely use my website I forgot I even had one. My site has my bio and highlights some of my successes as a consultant on it. The woman, whose name is Maggie, tells me that she started her own jewelry-making business a year ago, and ever since some of her work was featured in Vogue, she hasn’t been able to keep up with demand for her designs. She wants help figuring out how she can grow her business. She has questions about hiring additional staff and how she would work the finances to pay their salaries and health insurance and so on. She has questions about the whole gamut of small-business ownership, and this kind of thing is right up my alley.
One thing about being a consultant is that you’re always having to sell yourself to get the next project. It’s like endlessly having to go on job interviews. It’s hard for someone like me to brag about all of my accomplishments when my natural tendency is to focus on all of my faults, but I’m intrigued by Maggie’s business and am interested in securing the project. So I write up my proposal, including examples of how I’ve helped small businesses like hers in the past.
SUCCESSES:
Company: An importer/manufacturer of furniture was suffering from poor budget controls and weak sales.
Major Initiatives:
Installed budget controls
Arranged several refinancings of eight-figure debt
Brought in venture capital investors
Outcome:
Sales rose from $5M to $70M during this period.
Company: $8M, seventy+ person designer, manufacturer, and wholesaler of women’s shoes, with sales sagging and an inability to ship orders on schedule.
Major Initiatives:
Introduced lean manufacturing, Six Sigma, and total quality management concepts, techniques, and tools
Advised the owner on financial and strategic options and communicated plan to key internal and external stakeholders and investors
Outcome:
Increased sales by 36 percent, gross margins by 5 percent and net income by 110 percent within seven months
Company: A national film production firm was running at a loss due to several bad investments, causing a severe cash shortage that negatively impacted operations creating vendor dissatisfaction. Shipments were late and quality was poor. The sales department was fragmented.
Major Initiatives:
Consolidated the sales organization
Hired a VP of Sales and Marketing
Consolidated and renegotiated raw material purchases
Developed operating budget with corrective action programs
Outcome:
The company increased sales by 25 percent in four months. Costs of materials were reduced by 20 percent.
As I review my successes, I remember what it is I like about my job. Thinking back to when I helped the furniture company, I remember what a great high it was when, within a few months of implementing my management changes, sales and profits turned around dramatically. The owner of the company actually cried, he was so thankful for my help. I smile at the memory and email Maggie a PDF of my proposal.
Moments after I get the proposal off, I get a phone call from Kyle Woodruff.
“Kyle, hi, what’s up?” I say. I look at my ring finger of my left hand. It looks strange without the ring there. Without that ring, no one knows my story. I could be single or in a serious relationship, strangers would have no way of knowing. I can’t decide if I like my personal life to be secret or not. When weird-looking guys hit on you, engagement rings can come in pretty handy.
“Eva, I need you to get started on the first phase of the branding project right away. I want focus groups. I want logos. I want taglines. I want…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Kyle, I haven’t agreed to go forward on the next stage of this project. In fact, I think it might be better if we parted ways.”
“What? But you agreed to do this.”
“No, I never agreed. I said I’d think about it. I’ve thought about it, and my answer is no.”
“But why?”
“Kyle, I spoke to you earlier about your expectations regarding deadlines. They are simply too—” I pause for a minute, straining to think of an appropriate euphemism—“ambitious.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have hired a woman. Women always lose their edge. They always end up on the Mommy Track.”
“The Mommy Track?”
“You lose your career ambition and focus all your time and energy on your kids.”
“But I don’t even have kids.”
“But you will.”
“I’m not planning to, but even if I did…” I don’t even know what to say. I’m so mad right now, it’s a damn good thing that Kyle is twenty miles away and not in the same room as me, because if he was standing in front of me, I would do my best to gouge his eyeballs out. I never should have hired a woman. Mommy Track. Lose their edge. On behalf of myself and women everywhere, I want to cause Kyle Woodruff grievous bodily harm. Whether I had children or not, I hate that Kyle assumes that if work isn’t the entire focus on my existence, that means I’m not a good employee.
“Kyle, what you just said to me is so offensive,
I don’t even know where to start. Maybe I could start by telling you that that kind of statement is the kind of sexist crap that could get a lawsuit slapped on you so hard and so fast your head would spin. Or maybe I could start by telling you that what we need in this country is not a Mommy Track, but a Personal Life Track, where whether you are a parent or not, your boss respects that you have a life outside of work. You, Kyle, do not respect that I have a life outside of making Woodruff Pharmaceuticals a success, and that’s why I’m turning down additional projects with WP. I wish you the very best of luck running this company, Kyle. Good-bye.”
I hang up the phone. My entire body is shaking. I will never be a fan of confrontation even if I go to therapy for the rest of my life, so that is part of the reason I’m upset by what just happened. But I’m also shaking because I don’t have another job lined up. How could I turn down work no matter how awful, without another job to go to?
Even as I tremble with the panicky feeling of Oh God! What have I done? I smile, thinking about how I didn’t run away from conflict. I told Kyle his comment was inappropriate. I stood up for myself and my needs. It’s a baby step, certainly, but I’m damn proud of myself anyway.
That night when I tell Will what happened, he congratulates me for turning Kyle down and telling Kyle off.
“But I don’t have any other work lined up. What am I going to do for money?” I say.
“Eva, I make enough money that I can take care of the household expenses until you get more work.”
“Will, I know we aren’t about to go to the poorhouse, but money is power. I’ve been making my own money for a long time now. I don’t want to rely on you for money.”
“I don’t see what other choice you have.”
He’s right, and the idea terrifies me. But this is what partnership is, right? If Will lost his job, I’d take care of him. That’s love. I can do this…
For the next few days I start trolling for leads on projects in case this Montreal thing doesn’t go through. I keep busy, but not crazily so. It’s strange to realize that if I want to make the time to go to a yoga class, I can. So I do. And I absolutely love it. It’s so relaxing to breathe and stretch and get my atrophied muscles moving. My arm and leg muscles are sore after the first several workouts. Somehow I never realized yoga was a real, actual workout.