Roy and I cycled through so many ridiculous names when we got drunk.
Code & Crumpets. Very British, very silly.
404: Company Name Not Found. Programmer humor at its finest but probably confusing for actual clients.
Have You Tried Turning It Off And On Again Solutions. I really, really wanted this one.
Nervous Systems.Because I’m the CEO, and that’s just accurate branding.
But Fortis fit. Because I’m trying to be a serious CEO now.
“Okay!” I clap my hands together. “Champagne time for Thirsty Thursday! Alya, that’s enough work for now. We’re celebrating.”
We’re three people in total: Roy, me, and Alya—who’s twenty-two, brilliant, and so shy that during her interview she mostlyspoke to her shoes. But then I asked her to solve a coding problem on the spot, and she absolutely demolished it in about forty seconds. She’s significantly smarter than I am. I’ve made peace with it.
I pop open the champagne, and it fizzes over my hand. Very professional. Very CEO. I’m nailing this.
It’s our first week in the new office after months of working remotely, and it feelsamazingto be in one place.
“You’re definitely going to have to expand fast,” Roy says, accepting his glass with a grin. “I can only handle one glass of champagne, so if we’re opening a bottle between the three of us for Thirsty Thursday every week, I’m in serious trouble.”
“I’ve already posted ads for two new developers,” I say, still half in disbelief that I get tohire people.
So far, IRIS has three major hotel chain clients. McLaren Hotels, obviously, because Patrick basically handed me that contract on a silver platter.
Then there’s Ashworth & Grey, a gorgeous boutique chain with historic properties across the UK. Their VP of Operations told me our system “changed her life,” which made me cry in the bathroom for fifteen minutes while Roy stood guard outside, pretending I was “taking an important call.”
And then there’s Thornfield Hospitality—luxury manor houses and estates across England and Scotland, the kind of places where you expect Mr. Darcy to emerge from the shrubbery. They came to us after seeing what we did for McLaren Hotels, and I had to have Roy sit in on the pitch meeting because I was shaking so hard I could barely hold my laser pointer. At one point, I accidentally aimed it at the CEO’s forehead and apologized three times in a row. They still signed with us, which means we’re brilliant.
People areseeking outmy software, which means I need more developers, and fast.
I havesomany ideas. Too many. Roy tells me to write them down before I “have a cognitive meltdown and forget something brilliant.” I now have four notebooks full of half-legible scribbles for future Georgie.
The terrifying part? Interviews.
I have to interview people.Me.
But I’m trying. I have a public speaking coach, who’s lovely and only mildly intimidating when she makes me do “power poses.” I also have a business coach, who uses phrases like “lean into your authentic leadership style.”
Gemma, Liam’s wife, is mentoring me. Somehow, she thinks I’m worth her time. She sends me voice notes at random hours with advice like “Stop apologizing in emails; you’re the CEO.”
Patrick wanted to mentor me, but I pushed his own rules about boundaries back at him. He didn’t love that, but he conceded the point.
It’s a lot. Honestly, it’s overwhelming. But it’s a good kind of overwhelming.
I get to build the kind of workplace I always wanted. One where people don’t dread Mondays or have anxiety dreams about their boss; where compassion and profit can coexist without one undermining the other.
I don’t want to be Craig, tearing people down because of his own insecurities. I don’t want to be David Brent fromThe Office.
I want to be someone people want to work for.
That’s why I introduced Focus Fridays, so everyone gets uninterrupted deep work time without someone asking a “quick question” that’s never actually quick. It’s why we build buffer time into every deadline because things always take longer than expected, and I refuse to have my team working until midnight because I underestimated a project.
Roy got me a new mug last week. It says “World’s Best Boss” in huge letters, which I think is a bit of an exaggeration andpossibly sarcastic, but I may have teared up when he gave it to me. He pretended not to notice, which is the mark of a truly excellent employee.
Riri’s photo sits proudly on my desk, right there in the open where everyone can see it. I don’t hide her anymore. I don’t hide any part of myself, actually.
“To Fortis.” I raise my slightly sticky champagne glass.
