Still, she's been “grabbing drinks with friends” more and more lately, ducking out, showing up late, leaving barely any time for us. A slow drift I’ve been ignoring.
No worries, babe. Talk then.
I pocket the phone and head into the meeting. Inside, the air is tense. Not unusual, but different somehow.
Thatcher, my CEO, is seated, fingers steepled under his chin, watching his nephew present.
Nepotism in action.
Jackson’s voice is puffed up with small dick energy, and he sounds like a man who’s never satisfied anyone but himself. I’ve seen PowerPoints with more charisma and less entitlement.
He’s going on about trimming overhead as though he invented the concept of spreadsheets.
It’s no surprise the way Jackson speaks makes my skin crawl. It’s the way he says“operational efficiency”like he plucked it off a word-of-the-day calendar and decided to make it his personality.
Or maybe I’m just bitter over the fact that he’s a Wall Street reject with a finance degree he’s never used, currently living in his parents’ Upper East Side brownstone, playing corporate dress-up in the job his uncle handed him–neatly gift-wrapped and unearned–like a participation trophy for showing up with the right last name.
Meanwhile, I—and most of the people who make Big Stream the best—have bled for the wins he takes credit for. Blood, sweat, and too many weekends sacrificed to pitch decks and impossible deadlines… all while he waltzes in with his pre-approved business buzzwords and thinks that counts as leadership.
“We’ve been offering strategic flexibility…”
Right.
As I was saying—pre-approved buzzwords.
“Clients want quick wins. We meet them where they are—on timeline, on expectations, even budget. Sometimes under. That kind of responsiveness drives growth.” Jackson taps the screen like he’s delivered a masterstroke.
I almost applaud. Look at him, quoting case studies like scripture. Readingandpretending to lead? Banner day for Jackson.
But I know what he’s doing.
Strategic flexibility sounds noble. Adaptive. Makes us appear agile, not desperate. But what he’s offering isn’t strategy—it’s surrender in a tailored suit.
Jackson is selling short-term appeasement, undercutting pricing to secure the win, calling it value, and hoping no one notices what we’ve lost in the process.
That might work if we were some scrappy startup clawing for attention.
But we’re not.
We’re Big Stream.
We don’t bend. We don’t chase. And we sure as hell don’t devalue the brand in order to inflate the scoreboard.
Thatcher nods along, approvingly.
What the fuck? Is he actually listening to this dumbass?
It’s not enough for me to challenge, not here, not in front of a room full of analysts and other business professionals.
But it’s close.
Close enough to raise the hair on the back of my neck.
I can’t decide what unsettles me more, Jackson delivering“operational efficiency”in a deceptive package, or Thatcher letting it slide when he should be shutting this shit down.
Instead, he’s nodding.Nodding.
Mental note made. Check into that shit.
