“We have a team of people whose job it is to specifically do that.” He sounds more confused than upset. But I enjoyed digging around the internet for information and finding trends. Besides, my brain wouldn’t let me quit with the work half-done.
“Okay. Well, I did the research anyway.” I shrug, an uncomfortable wariness settling over me. I should have just let it go, but their insistence in my interview that this was the kind of place where departments worked together and everyone pitched in made me think my contribution was in line with their expectations. Now, I’m not so sure. “You don’t have to use any of it, but it’s there for you if you want it.”
“Right…” He trails off, looking down at the folder on the desk. He reaches for it, his face a mask of curiosity. I turn to leave again, but again, he stops me, asking a question to my back. “Am I supposed to retype this myself?”
I spin around and see him holding up a page from my spreadsheet with disgust, flipping it around to look at the double-sided printing.
“I wasn’t sure if you were a paper person or a digital person—” I start.
“Do I look like a paper person?” He glares.
I look him over, really look him over, and decide that no… he definitely doesn’t look like a paper person. I didn’t realize yesterday, when he was reaming out the team across the hall, that he was actually pretty young to own such a successful firm. He can’t be older than his early thirties. Dark brown hair, olive skin, and those deep, dark eyes that are burrowing into me. He’s decked out in a business suit, jacket, and tie. The scruff on his face somehow highlights his sharp cheekbones and jawline instead of detracting from it.
“Then it’s a good thing it’s already in your email as well,” I answer with a smile.
He drops the folder on his desk and goes back to his computer. I wait for a moment, wondering if he’s looking for the email, but he doesn’t say anything, and the longer I wait, the more awkward it gets.
Without a word of thanks, I turn and finally manage to escape his office.
Apparently, the devil has left Georgia, because he’s currently residing in a New England high-rise.
Chapter 3
Damian
Thisissomeofthe most comprehensive research I’ve seen. The list of outdoor supply companies ranges from publicly traded corporations to small mom-and-pop shops. Brielle has included everything they sell, additional services, brand awareness information, ownership and succession plans.
She wasn’t aware that Cardinal West Outdoors was the client we were pitching, so she included them in her research as well. LeonandPam Vitale listed as the owners. Everything is organized into categories and color-coded.
I’m honestly impressed.
It isn’t for another two days after Brielle submitted what she turned up that one of my researchers, Devin, presents his findings. To say I’ve found it lacking is an understatement. There is half as much information in his report and a distinct lack of organization.
I track him down, sitting on the counter in the fully stocked lunchroom, as he chats with a few of the guys in the contracts department.
“Devin. A word.” I don’t intend for it to come out as menacing as it does, but I’m not sorry about it. My team knows better than to turn in subpar work. My standards are high, my expectations exacting.It’s why they’ve dubbed me “Satan,” after all. They may think I don’t know that little tidbit, but I do. I don’t work to squash that moniker. If it keeps the employees from slacking off, all the better.
Although it doesn’t seem to be making an impact on Devin if his workmanship is any indication.
Devin slides off the counter, sharing a concerned look with his colleagues before he follows me back to my office.
I shut the door and round my desk as he takes a seat.
“The research you’ve submitted is atrociously subpar. I haven’t decided if it’s pure laziness or incompetence, but I’m not okay with either one. This—” I toss Brielle’s folder on the corner of my desk in front of him. “—is what research is supposed to look like. Comprehensive, detailed, organized. If our brand-new accountant can manage to complete the task, I expect you to be able to. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.” He glances up at me with round, fearful eyes. They fall to the folder, and his lip tugs up in a sneer. It only lasts a second before he schools his features and lowers his head.
“Take this back with you. Study it. And next time I give you a deep-dive assignment, I expect it to look like that. Go back to work,” I tell him, dismissing him. The only reason he isn’t fired is because I still need some researchers on my team. It crosses my mind to move Brielle into that department to replace Devin, but that isn’t what she was hired for, and she’s only been here for a few days. Too many moving pieces doesn’t make for a productive and efficient work environment, so for now, Devin stays. But I’m not happy about it.
After my disaster of a call on Monday, I somehow convinced Leon Vitale to give CreativEdge another chance to pitch our services.
I’ve read through the accountant’s research again to prepare myself for the call. Thank God she went out of her way to put this together, otherwise, I would be royally screwed. But before our scheduled call, I have to sit through our standing bi-monthly board meeting.
I’m never a fan of these sessions, but today’s meeting is dragging on worse than usual when all I want is to get back to work. Bill Novak, one of the board members, is talking about absolutely nothing, but using all the corporate jargon that he thinks I want to hear. As if I can’t see right through his low-self-esteem ramblings.
“Collaboration is really the key thing here, creating synergies across the departments to expound on the knowledge sharing and leveraging the—”
“I think that wraps up today’s meeting,” I say, interrupting him mid-sentence. “Does anyone have anything else?”
