“You … uh … you go into Instagram …”
“Uh-huh?”
“And you click on the button that says ‘Join Live.’”
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s completely inaccurate. You’re inaccurate.”
“As an entire person?”
I snort-laughed. “Sometimes.”
“Kid, you’re lucky I love you.”
“I’ll be there at seven. Love you.” I hung up before she could complain about anything else I’d booked on her calendar for the new release.
By the time I arrived at the bookstore in Fort Kinnaird, the author, Peter Wilkins, and Cara were already there. Cara would take pictures of the event and post them on Peter’s social media. His wife was with him, and she pestered me with questions while Peter signed books. She wanted to know exactly where the money for ads was going, where the money for graphics was going, and tried to suggest the “extra” money that we charged for our time was unnecessary. I smiled through it, resisting the urge to be sarcastic and defensive, while I explained everything as best as I could.
The time I’d hoped to use to reply to emails was eaten up by her incessant cheapness.
“I think it’s a lot of money every month,” she finally grumbled as the signing came to an end.
Itwasa lot of money every month. However, since it was essential for strategizing to know our clients’ income, I had all ofPeter’s data at my fingertips. And I knew since he’d hired Social Queens, he’d seen a sixty percent increase in revenue. I relayed as much.
She harrumphed. “I think as a long-time client, we should get a discount.”
I smiled through my teeth. “We’re counting a year as a long time?”Really?
“I don’t like your tone, young lady.”
“I’m Ms. Carmichael, Mrs. Wilkins. Not ‘young lady.’ And I’m sure if you’re unhappy with our work, you can discuss that with your husband. I hope you’ll stay on with us, though. We value you.”
With another forced smile, I turned and walked over to Cara who was swiping through the photos she’d taken on her phone. “Remind me I love my job.”
“You love your job.” She flicked me a look. Her brown eyes narrowed at whatever she saw on my face. “You okay? You look tired.”
“I’m fine.” I sighed heavily and pulled out my phone. “I have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“Yeah.” Cara patted my shoulder absentmindedly as she returned to her own work. “Tell me about it.”
“I have an interview with Sheera Green on Friday. The owner of Aura Beauty.”
“Interview?” Cara scowled.
“Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere.” I made a face at the suggestion. “They’re interested in hiring us for social media management.”
My friend’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. It could be a game changer. If we bag them as a client, we could hire at least one new staff member. We need an extra set of hands.”
“Make that a few extra. That is fantastic news. Do you need me to come with or are you good to bag this alone?”
She said it like there was no doubt I would land us this account. “I can do it.”
“Of course you can.” She gestured behind me. “Look what you’ve done for Peter.”
Glancing over at Peter who was talking animatedly to his readers, I reminded myself that this right here was one of the reasons I loved my job. The power of social media never ceased to amaze me—how it could elevate businesses to places they never imagined, including my own.
I just … sometimes … it felt I was all work and no play.
