I blink furiously and clear my throat. “I used to look up to you. I am still so grateful to you for the chanceyou gave me but gratitude can only go so far.” I hold up the rejected report, which crinkled under my fingers. “As far as disappointing you: this report is fine work. This isn’t about the report. It’s about you wanting me to be your assistant forever at my own career’s expense.”
The well of tears, which tend to appear whenever I express any extreme emotion, bubble just below the surface, stinging my eyes.Do not cry.I blink back the frustration and take a deep lungful of air.
She adjusts her posture, straightening as if being spoken to like this has woken up her bones. She sighs. “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt.”
“It is,” I confirm. “I’ve felt like this for a while. If I don’t get the promotion, and start working for Ditto, things have to change.”
She stares at me blankly. “What do you want?”
Shit, she thinks I actually prepared this speech.
“I want you to hire an assistant. I can recommend some people. Not an intern, but a fully salaried assistant. And I would like a pay raise, to the level I should be at if I’d asked for annual raises in pay since working for you. Industry-standard.”
She crosses her arms. “OK. Have HR draft a new contract and I’ll take a look.”
I shoot her a polite smile. “Thank you.”
I turn to leave, actively having to stop my wobbling legs from collapsing over each other. The last thing I want to follow a power move is a slapstick topple inheels. High on the release, I try my luck one final time. I’ve come this far, I might as well go all in.
“Oh, and I want my own office. There’s an unused storage room down the hall; I can make that work.”
She raises her eyebrows, almost as if she’s impressed. “OK.”
“Thank you. And—I know it’s not much, but if you need someone in your corner, I will always have your back.” I nod for emphasis and give her a tight-lipped smile.
She taps her fingernail against her desk, her other hand massaging the bridge of her nose. “You know, just because you run a company doesn’t mean you are in control; there will always be people—or in my case, a boardroom full of people—deciding you aren’t good enough, that your years of contributions don’t matter because you no longer fit their ‘vision.’ I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel the same.”
“What ‘vision’?”
She waves her hand, summoning the reasons. “Apparently, I am too old to be the public face of Fate. It’s too depressing to have a single woman of my age representing the search for love. They want me to resign.”
My face scrunches in disbelief.
“Exactly,” she agrees with my expression. “Do you think Dharmash is getting this kind of evaluation? I get a wrinkle, and I’m on the chopping block. He pays amagazine to stalk an employee and the board gives him a pat on the back.”
My nerves stand on end. “I’m sorry?”
She tilts her head. “I thought you knew?”
I shake my head. “Knew what?”
“About Eric Bancroft?”
29
Having finished the slideshow part of my presentation, I am practicing the spoken parts in the living room. Doing so until my throat is sore will be the only thing to stop the plague of locusts raging around my stomach.
“In conclusion,” I declare with a flourish, “with this strategy, Ditto will pave a new way to match users and bring a breath of fresh air to the industry. Market research suggests the new generation of potential users has been experiencing dating-app fatigue. Ditto cuts out the awkward preamble and gets straight to the date but in a safe, controlled environment.”
My face scrunches with indecision as I ask Yemi and Alice, “Did that last bit sound kinda lame?” I fiddle with the edges of my oversize linen shirt, tucked into frayed denim shorts to counter the lack of air conditioning in our building.
“No, it sounds really good!” Alice gushes, lounging next to Yemi on the sofa, their feet curled up in a yellow knitted blanket.
Flopping down on the tatty gingham-print armchair next to them, I admit, “I want to get across howpassionate I am about this idea. I genuinely think it would be great.” Warm honey fills my chest. “I haven’t felt this way in a really long time.”
“Why don’t you talk about your passion then? They will be looking for the numbers and data and stuff, but they want someone who will champion the brand. You know, speak from the heart,” Alice suggests.
“Yeah.” Yemi nods. “The ultimate goal for users is to find someone who shares their passions in life, so it would make sense to speak about yours.”
