“This isn’t simply a PR issue, where a press conference and a few photos at youth camps will solve the issue. Though I think those are a great start,” I added quickly. “What you’re actually asking, I think, is what the organization is and what it isn’t.” I looked around, waiting for the players to nod or shake their heads. They all nodded.
“Got it,” I confirmed. “So, while Natalie and Noelle are working on damage control, the social media department needs to provide the narrative that we are not an organization that drinks heavily and plans to drive themselves home. Jay, Noelle, and I have created a list of talking points for each of the players to communicate on your socials. Natalie has opportunities for you all if you’d like to do outreach, and they look really cool, so that’s a great idea as well. This problem took one night to create, but it could take months to clean up, so we need to be diligent and patient.”
Cormac exhaled, with a slight nod. “I’ll do my part, but if the rookie’s late to even one of those youth events, I’m pushing for him to be cut.”
Cormac waited for Coach Whittaker’s nod, then he rose and strode from the room. When he was gone, I finally let out the breath I’d held and the other players buzzed with conversation as they began to disperse.
Gunnar turned to me, quiet but intense.
“You okay?”
I nodded, hoping my dizziness would pass. “Yeah. I mean, I will be.”
Gunnar smiled. “You handled yourself well.” He looked over at the exiting players and Jay’s sweaty chaos as he spoke to Jeff and two other young players huddled in the corner.
“I’ve never had a situation quite like this,” Gunnar said. “What’s your take? Honest, no filter, please.”
I looked around, taking in the dynamic between Jeff and the rest of the team, including the staff. “He’s isolated and feels put upon—treated unfairly. This will probably blow up even bigger.”
Gunnar sighed. “That’s my feeling, too.” He shook his head. “Still, it’s worth a try to get him to see the light.”
I shrugged. Maybe. My father had talked about soldiers who refused to follow protocol. They always caused problems, big ones, and I had a strong suspicion Jeff would, too.
Chapter 10
Gunnar
I stared at the analytics dashboard on my computer screen, a grin spreading across my face. The results were in from the social media team’s six-week posts contest, and the results were even stronger than I’d expected. I reviewed every post and then the aggregates for each of the contestants, pride blooming in my chest as I noted the engagement Zaila had created.
As I took the stairs down to the marketing floor, I greeted employees along the way with a nod and a smile. Today was a good day—not just for our online engagement but for the future of the organization.
I didn’t need to gather the team in the open meeting space in the center of their floor. They were assembled there already. One constraint I’d imposed on the competition was that after the first two weeks, I was the only person allowed to review the numbers. This had allowed Zaila and Jay to make tweaks based on quantitative analysis for the first half of the month, but then both were blind after that, so they couldn’t do anything to sway the eventual results. I wasn’t exactly sure what they could have done to skew the outcome, but then again, no one liked to lose, especially when ego was on the line.
“The numbers for our latest campaign are in,” I noted, keeping my expression neutral even as most of the staff leaned forward, clearly interested in the result. The entire organization, even the players who’d recently come back for training camp, was aware of the competition and the bet. The wagers had remained friendly, but they were fierce. That’s what happened with a group of such highly competitive people, after all.
Zaila stood on one side of Tim, Jay on the other. He’d been so confident about his posts that he’d talked them up with the team. I’d learned over my decades in boardrooms and corporations that true confidence was often much quieter than insecurity.
“It was a good run, Zaila,” Jay said, with a gallant smile that didn’t quite seem genuine. “I’m sure my posts crushed it.”
I chuckled as I shook my head. “Jay, I’ve got some news for you. Your posts didn’t exactly crush it.”
His face fell. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I said, pausing for dramatic effect, “your last five posts came in last.”
The office erupted in a mixture of gasps and congratulations to Zaila.
Jay’s jaw dropped. “No way,” he scoffed. “How is that possible?”
I pulled up the stats on the big screen for everyone to see. “The numbers don’t lie, Jay. Your posts about the team’s pre-game rituals didn’t resonate as much as you thought they would. Unfortunately, the players are going to be upset, which means they’re going to need reassurance that they’re still admired.” I looked over at the PR staff. “Can you put together something that showcases how much our fans love the players?”
Natalie nodded. “Of course. I’d love to plan an event.”
As the group gathered to look at the results, I did feel a twinge of sympathy for Jay. He’d been with the Wildcatters just over three years and was eager to prove himself as the new division head. Even more, he’d navigated his role successfully under Lydia, who’d made that hard for everyone. This loss had to be a tough blow. But a bet was a bet, and he’d been the one to push it in the first place.
As I’d suspected, Zaila had a better knack for creating engagement. She was more in touch with the online world, perhaps. I’d have to keep an eye on the social media group to ensure Jay was nurturing Zaila’s gifts, rather than stifling them.
“So,” I said, turning to Jay. “I believe you set a little wager about this.”
