“Like fromFerris Bueller?”
“You got it.”
The customer cleared her throat loudly. Cameron smiled politely at Walker, a signal that meant this conversation had to end, but Walker detected something genuine in his look, something that suggested that this wasn’t the horrifically awkward experience Walker was imagining.
He grabbed his coffee and burst back into the center of The Complex. He realized that the sun was shining and a cool breeze swept between the buildings. It was a beautiful day.
Φ
Over the almost fifteen years he worked at The Berkwell Agency, his workspace had shrunk from a large cubicle with a window to a smaller cubicle with no window to finally a long table he shared with ten other people. Management had embraced the open workspace, although they still got to keep their offices. Some days in the winter, Walker never saw the sun. He thought after all his time here, and his promotion to Associate Media Director, he would have earned an office. Alas, they kept making the offices more open. Or more shared. Only vice presidents and above received the luxury of a door and walls.
Walker logged into his email and groaned under his breath. Sure enough, in the span between leaving his car, getting his coffee, and walking to his desk, Patricia had sent him three emails.
He felt his blood pressure rising, beating against the inside of his chest, just by reading the subject lines. That’s all he had to read with Patricia. She either started emails in the subject line and continued them in the body, or she sent them with no subject line at all. They never went more than two sentences. She didn’t text or instant message. Her email was stream of consciousness.
Subject: I think we need to discuss
Radiance’s fall initiative. What would it look like to shift dollars out of TV and into print? Have our competitors continued to spend as aggressively in print?
Subject: How is the
Facebook execution coming along? What’s the ETA on launch? Have we received feedback on the creative from the clients?
Subject: Can you pull
Our media spend for the last five summers? Were we able to maintain share of spend throughout?
This was Walker’s inbox all day every day for the past six years. By now, he was used to his boss’s machinations. Like her, he used to think they were curing cancer, until he realized that nope—they were just trying to sell shampoo. Patricia and other co-workers talked about work all the time—in the break room, in the hall, whispering to each other outside a conference room. They found this all so important.
Before he finished his cup of coffee, another one had been placed next to his keyboard like clockwork. Lucy smiled above him.
“You’re the best. You know that?” He said warmly.
“If only I could get my kids and my husband to say that to me, my life would be set.” Lucy was Hispanic with curly brown hair, a full face, and a bright outlook that managed to survive cubicle culture. She wasn’t trying to be CEO, which made her a delight to be around. “Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“We have a meeting.”
“We do?”
“Check your email.”
And in the five seconds Walker wasn’t focused on his computer, Patricia had managed to send another email.
Subject: Meet me in my office
“Just a subject line,” Walker said. “That’s not a good sign.”
“We should go,” Lucy said. She was able to laugh off Patricia. Work never got to her like it did for Walker, and he couldn’t understand why.
They strolled over to the wall of offices that overlooked The Complex. Walker wondered if Patricia appreciated having a view, or if she saw it merely as a piece of status. She typed away feverishly on her laptop. Papers and Post-its were arranged at right angles on her desk. Walker and Lucy took their seats.
Patricia kept her blonde hair in a controlled ponytail that hung down her neck like a tie. She had a stick figure body and, in a different life, could’ve been a movie star. Walker wondered if she would’ve enjoyed jetsetting, premieres, and celebrity-filled parties as much as putting together media plans to sell shampoo.
She pressed her fingertips together and kept her back yardstick straight. “I received some news this morning.” She nodded to herself, keeping Walker dying of suspense. “The client has put our account into review.”
Lucy’s eyes bulged, and Walker’s probably did, too. Major blip. Patricia continued talking.
