by J. J. R.
* * * *
Upon returning to my office, I find a large box of cookies with a note, “So lucky to have you!—Your Team”.
I clutch the note and smile to myself. My team. They are fantastic, truly. I don’t know how I lucked out with such smart, caring people that I know will continue to see me through time and time again. I usher down the hall to wrap all of them in a hug, including two awkward squeezes to Digital Strategist and Graphic Designer #2, although something tells me she didn’t have anything to do with it. It’s in gazing upon them that I see greatness. I see loyalty. I see my team. I depart Lucy (formerly known as Marketing Manager), Brody (formerly known as Digital Strategist), Jen (formerly known as Graphic Designer #1), Rachel (formerly known as Graphic Designer #2), Angie (formerly known as Copywriter), and Julie (formerly known as Assistant) with a gratitude unable to be expressed. This is what a team is supposed to feel like.
I fly through my afternoon meetings and before I know it, two thirty has rolled around and click, click, click—five inch heels are making their way down to my office. My new gorgeous office, I must add. Trust me, there are equal parts guilt and delight when I look around the stunning pad, layered in black, white, and pink. Admin insisted on the glittering keyboard and I must admit, I feel tragically terrible every time I look at it. It is like her sad little puppy dog eyes are staring up at me, yelling at me secretly for getting her fired.
By the way, she never called. I was only trying to help her. That a girl, Mel, portray your mistake onto her in judgment.
Ugh, now I feel crappy.
“Ready?” I look up from my little keyboard of sadness and see the crew. And to my delight, Bestie is right there with them.
“Shall we? First round is on Queen Bee!” he squeals and we all clamor down the hallway after him.
* * * *
This time around, I insist on nursing my chardonnay. No shots and definitely no martinis. I giggle though as I watch Bestie drink them under the table. He is the life of the party, poking fun at Queen Bee right to her perfect little face, making everyone double over in laughter.
“Who am I?” he slurs in a drunken state and pops up onto his tiptoes, tilts his nose into the air and traipses around the round bar top, eyes cast down upon us in judgment.
“Queen Bee!” Jock, Pawn, and Puppet Master squeal in delight. Queen Bee mocks horror and then bursts into laughter when Bestie yells out, “No! I’m all of you bitches.”
“You, my darling, are the biggest bitch of us all,” Queen Bee says and tilts her martini glass to his before planting a large kiss on his cheek.
I laugh out loud at all of their antics until my cheeks hurt. These are good, no great people, and I curse myself again for judgment. And I only cringe the moment I see Vain enter the bar with Sleaze on her arm.
My first glance is to Pawn, whose eyes are instantly glossy, and then to Puppet Master, who has revenge pouring from her claws.
Sleaze approaches, as if he is completely unaware of what he has done. And then I realize he probably is completely unaware.
“Well, all be! Look who it is, Vain!” He high fives Bestie and gives me the once over. “Who’s the new kid?”
Puppet Master glowers at him, “Her name is Melanie. She has been here for like six weeks. Are you really that daft?”
Queen Bee interjects to prevent catastrophe. “You little tyrant you, always sticking to the second floor. We miss you up in the penthouse. And it is so nice to see you, Vain.” She offers her a kiss on each cheek. Vain blushes from head to toe and catches my eye. I wish I could reach across the table and give her a hug.
Sleaze lets his eyes drift around the table, hungrily staring at each set of cleavage with intensity. I don’t think this guy is good enough for Vain. That’s for sure.
I excuse myself and head to the ladies restroom. Upon applying a fresh coat of lip gloss, I see Vain’s head poke into the room. We’ve got to stop meeting in bathrooms.
“Hi,” she said. “Sorry to show up like this. I’m really not trying to intrude.”
“You’re always welcome in my opinion, Vain.”
“Thanks,” she says shyly and pulls at the tightness of her dress, suddenly modest. “They don’t agree though. You can see it in their eyes. I didn’t come here to cause any trouble though. I actually came here to break it off with Sleaze. He’s been trying to hook up with me again ever since that conference, flirting nonstop. I can’t get him to take me serious at the office, so I thought I’d do it over a drink. We are over, it never should have started.”
“How do you think he’ll handle it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Curious to see if she thinks, he thinks, what they had was real.
“Oh, I’m just a number. I know that. I’ve always been to every guy I date. I’m the mistress or the one night stand, never the fiancé like you.”
I can’t help myself, I reach out and pull her into a tight hug. “Vain, you are better than that. You are a beautiful, smart woman and deserve a good kind man.” I’d blame the chardonnay, but I’ve only had one glass.
“What if I already blew it? I figure best to just keep at it like this, no way to go back now. But Sleaze is a bad idea. Never have sex with guys in the office. They never tell you that in school.” She laughs a little, sad laugh.
“It’s never too late. If you want my advice, all I have to offer is to cover those puppies up and let the real Vain shine through, the Vain that I know is an awesome person.”
She reaches to pull her dress up, but it is so tight, it only moves a millimeter and makes her boobs jiggle wildly. “Yeah, you’re right,” she says. “Hard to hear what comes out of my mouth with these girls dancing around, huh?”
I nod.
“Take me shopping sometime? Show me how to find some classy stuff?”
“I’d love that,” I say and she pulls me into a fierce hug.
* * * *
Upon returning to the table, Vain makes an excuse about business they need to discuss and they move to a different table.
“Business, ha!” Puppet Master says.
“I bet she’s going to end it,” I offer quietly and I feel Puppet Master’s gaze shift to me.
“Did she say that?”
“Um, kind of. She was real sweet, saying she doesn’t want to be involved in that stuff anymore.”
Queen Bee pets my hair. “You are such a sweetheart, darling. We love your naiveté.”
Bestie clears his throat. “I don’t know. I’m with Mel, I think Vain is better than Sleaze and maybe she’s getting some self-confidence, is starting to have some faith in herself.” He offers me a wink. It is then that I know, Bestie is the real deal. He’s got my back and is the only genuine person I may trust in this whole company.
Puppet Master and Queen Bee glance at each other, nod and let out a long cackle. “Hahahaha! She’s got confidence!” they say in unison and then laugh even harder than before.
Bestie shrugs and we decide to drop it. There is no redeeming Vain tonight. Not after she showed up with Sleaze. I steal a look at Pawn, who seems oddly over it. She is deep in conversation with Jock about another guy she is dating and when Puppet Master nudges her side to join in, she shrugs. “She can have him,” she says and smiles at me.
* * * *
Throughout the rest of the week, my team really starts to shine. It seems with a little team building earlier in the week we are on fire. An email campaign with the right banner—courtesy of Jen—the right subject line—courtesy of Angie—Brody coordinating the whole layout and delivery, and Lucy pulling the right targeted list…we hit a homerun.
I almost spit my coffee out when they all rush into my office to report the results.
“We hit seventy-seven percent open rate and sixty one percent conversion! That’s the highest it’s ever been! Your target patients in the database were genius!” Lucy squeals and jumps up and down. The rest of the team is crowded in around her and smiling ear to ear.
I offer an applause of congratulatio
ns. “No, team,” I say. “This one was all you. I’m going to push out a company email right this instant shouting the good news.”
I feel like a proud mama bear sending out this email and even more delighted when Queen Bee comes racing to my office clutching a bottle of champagne.
“There you are, you wicked girl! You have news like that, it better be shouted from the rooftops next time with champagne in hand! You are amazing!” She pops the cork and does a little dance. “Amazing! Multiply that gorgeous little conversion rate of yours by our profit and you’ve got yourself a pretty little bonus, my darling!” She tilts her glass to mine.
“Bonus?” I repeat and follow suit, taking a sip at approximately ten fifteen in the morning.
Puppet Master rushes in and steals a glass. “I can’t believe it! The highest conversion rate we’ve ever had is about seventeen percent. You are brilliant!”
I bask in the moment, sipping my champagne. I see Bestie walk by, raise one eyebrow at me and keep on walking.
* * * *
At Queen Bee’s insistence, I’m talked into another happy hour to celebrate tonight. She claims the CEO may make an appearance to personally congratulate me, and I’ll be damned if I miss that moment of glory.
Despite the constant commotion the remainder of the day, I did treat the team to lunch and every chance I possibly got, I said, “It was the team! Lucy, Brody, Jen, Angie, all of them! They’re so talented!” But my song of praise is lost upon them hoisting me on their shoulders, shooting confetti rockets and chanting, “Mel-an-ie! Mel-an-ie!” throughout the halls.
Okay, okay, that last bit was just a sweet little fantasy of mine. Of course they didn’t carry me on their shoulders.
But around nine-thirty, when I hear my phone buzz for the tenth time, realizing simultaneously that CEO will in fact not be attending, I am darkened by a harsh reality.
“Shit!” I say and leap out from my barstool.
“Where you going?” Pawn asks, for there is no way I would bail out on them before midnight. Not at any happy hour with the Divas.
“I can’t believe it! I’ve completely blanked on my best friend’s boyfriend’s gallery opening. I have to go! Ciao ladies!”
I dash for the door and hear Puppet Master say, “Doesn’t sound important enough to me.”
* * * *
In the cab, I try Jade’s number, Finn’s number, Kate’s number, and then try them all again. No one picks up.
I arrive at the gallery fifteen minutes later to find the lights out and half torn down poster of Trevor’s metal sculptures. “No,” I sigh, leaning my head against the scummy building.
I try Jade one last time and she picks up, finally, “Jade!” I burst into an instant ramble of apology, “God, I am so sorry! I got stuck at work. It was a huge day for us with a big win for the team. If I could have left you know I would have. I feel terrible! Please tell Trevor I am so sorry. I am standing here in front of the building—”
She cuts me off, “It’s fine, Mel. We understand. He’ll have another one, well sometime. Glad you had a good day.” Click.
She hung up? Oh man, she is pissed. Still standing in the dark alley, I log onto 1-800-Flowers and order the largest bouquet I can find and have it urgently shipped to their apartment with a big, fat apology note on it. And a box of cookies, just for extra apology.
* * * *
Back at home, Finn is sleeping on the couch, Oliver tucked in around his ankles. I move his shoulder gently and he groans.
“Babe, I’m so sorry. I got stuck at work.” I whisper.
“Then why do you smell like wine?” He sits up, eyes glazed over, hair a wild mess.
“It’s complicated. We had a really big day and they insisted I join them for one drink. The CEO was supposed to be there, but he didn’t show, otherwise I never would have said yes.” I hear myself, begging and pleading for understanding. I’m so ashamed of myself right now.
“What time was that? When you left the office for drinks?” He rubs his eyes.
“I don’t know…maybe like—”
“Don’t start lying, Mel. You’ve never ever once lied to me before. Please don’t start.” He opens his arms and pulls me into a hug. “You screwed up. Jade and Trevor will understand. But don’t do anything to screw us up.”
I fall into him and let his hug warm every inch of my embarrassed heart. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “There isn’t anything I can say other than I’m sorry. I screwed up.”
“Yup,” he mumbles and pulls me down on top of him, where we both fall into a deep sleep, tears starting to roll down my cheeks.
* * * *
Despite how shitty I am feeling, I can’t help but feel like I am on cloud nine. I float into the office, a world I am starting to feel super confident in. Receptionist even smiles up at me today and I know I’m making good progress.
I pass Vain on my way to my office and break out into a huge grin. She is wearing a button-down sky blue collared shirt with a cream cardigan with pearls. And get this! Every button except for the top one is buttoned. And she’s wearing pants. Pants!
She does a little twirl, clearly proud of how conservatively she’s dressed.
“You look great,” I say. “See you don’t even need me.”
“I wanted to try on my own, but if it’s okay, I’d still like to take you up on your offer? Still go shopping some time?”
“I’d love that. How about Saturday? Should we invite Bestie?” I ask, still smiling at how great she looks.
“Does he even like me? Or does he think I’m trash like the others?” Her eyes are wide with concern.
“No one thinks you are trash,” I say reassuringly. “And Bestie loves everybody. He is Switzerland around here.”
She beams and I see her shoulders relax a little. It’s probably refreshing for her to hear that she’s liked by some when Puppet Master and the others have her convinced she’s hated. But, I’m not giving up on Vain. Puppet Master even said to like her if I wanted to. I mean, how could anyone not like her?
Heed the Warning
Bitch Problem:
We all know that one person who takes credit for our ideas and our work. They can be defeating, exhausting and downright dangerous to your career.
I’m delighted by the invite on Friday for lunch from Mentor. She is always a vision in pearls and polka dots and a warm smile. She insists on treating, claiming she has been meaning to do so for a while. It is unexpected and kind.
We decide on a quaint sandwich shop around the corner. No drinks. No surprise. No disappointment. For the weight I lost is slowly creeping its way back into my life from all of those empty calories.
“So, Melanie,” she says, clutching her Reuben. “Have you come to lean on your team? Build trust?”
I am delighted by her question, for it is a perfect intro for a question that has been on my mind. “Very much so. It didn’t take long to realize how gifted they are. And dedicated. I mean, the hours they put in are incredible.”
“Now, Melanie, remember, you are at the tail end of the Millennials. You are supposed to be the generation that brings us into the future. Your generation is supposed to be the ones to recognize that hours put in does not equal dedication. It is the work you do while you are at work that counts. I’d like to see the forty hour rule lifted in my lifetime. Chaining people to their desk is the last thing to do to increase productivity. In fact, a lot of companies are moving that direction and I’m pleased.” Her bites are dainty, but her knowledge is impressive.
“That’s true. It was the Baby Boomer generation that began proving their workload by hours, is that correct?”
“There have been studies that indicate that. I am personally a Gen X and am naturally, skeptical about all sides,” she laughs heartily.
“About my team,” I continue. “Is it possible to offer a bonus from time to time?”
“Yes, in fact, I heard you had a pretty big win this week, isn’t that correct? Large conversion rates?”
“Yes.” I beam. “I am so proud of them. All of them. It takes a village to pull something like that off. In fact, that is what I was referencing for bonuses. I think it was definitely worth a reward of some sort, other than lunch, of course.”
“You are living in a bonus world. I’m aware of the rather large sum you received. Congratulations.”
I blush, unaware of her agreement or not. “Yes, I’m very thankful.”
She reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You deserve it. You’re doing great things, Melanie. Never feel ashamed of success. And regarding your team, I can see what we can do. I’ll talk to Queen Bee. Everything else is going well though? No concerns?”
I sit back from my ravenous state and take a breath. It is critical I can trust her before I say what I am about to say. However, as it always is in the Corporate World, there is only one way to find out if you can trust someone—tell them something you shouldn’t and wait. Wait and see what the hell happens with that little slip up. It can be anything; gossip, judgment, a politically incorrect statement, something embarrassing. Once it’s out there, it’s a floating test of trust. Generally within a week, a month at the longest, the trust will be proven or disproven. And that’s only if it’s a lucky break. Sometimes, the secret or little mishap can just be drifting around the office from one person to the next. It can be shared via text, over drinks or a sly comment in the office, generally prefaced by the words, “Did you know?” or “Did you hear?” and it will never be known. And at that point, it has now drifted to over a dozen, if not more, people in the office who give you the stare down every time they see you.
My point? Trust is never a guarantee, but this is the only way to find out.
“You are kind to check in, and I remember plain as day the last time we spoke.”
She perks up with interest, “Oh?”
“You said this office has a lot of strong opinions and personalities. You said I could talk to you about anything?”