I assume she’s asleep, but she immediately texts back.
Lola
I sleep with a butcher knife under my mattress, remember? Do your worst. Also, you’re welcome.
Siblings are the best. When they aren’t being the worst.
five
Work ishectic the next day due to a glitch with the rollout of a new customer claims app. I’m a senior project manager for a large insurance company. The job suits me because every day is different, and I never know when I sit down at my computer what’s going to happen. I’m a problem solver and a fixer by nature, so having a job where I get to flex both of those muscles daily is a good fit. The fact that it pays well, I get to work from home in pajamas, and most of my communication with others is done electronically is also a bonus. The fact that my manager, Mark, is inordinately confident but achingly incompetent is not.
I’m on a conference call with our small team now. “Sophie, Martin Mendoza isnothappy. Martin is Director of Central States Claims,” Mark explains.
I’ve worked for this company for eight years, and Martin has been in his position since before I arrived. I’m well aware. Mark loves to restate the obvious, because getting into the weeds where the details lie would shed light on how little he knows. He’s been with the company for six months and hasn’t learned a thing. He used to work for a grocery distributor. He only got thejob because he’s the golfing buddy of the commercial lines vice president.
“Several Texas agents still can’t open the survey link on their agency websites. What areyoudoing about that?” He’s the opposite of calm under pressure. “I should just get Phil on this. He would’ve had it done already.”
I don’t correct him, because it would fall on deaf ears. Phil is the reason the links aren’t working. If he hadn’t circumvented my final review and approval and gone straight to Mark to authorize release, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Everything Phil touches turns into a big pile of steaming dog shit that the rest of us are left to clean up. The company, in theory, is big on team culture, all for one and one for all. That vanished when Mark appeared. The shift was jarring and turnover was immediate. I’m the sole woman left on the team; all the rest moved on. I’ve reported him to HR, and I know he has it out for me too. Sometimes I think I stay only to be a thorn in his side.
“I thought this was supposed to be done an hour ago. Martin Mendoza isnothap?—”
He’s repeating again, so I cut him off by clearing my throat. “Seth’s almost done. What’s the ETA, Seth?”
“Gimme ten, Sophie. I’m almost there,” Seth responds. Seth is newish, but he knows his stuff. I like him. Mostly because he isn’t sexist and has a functioning brain. The bar is low.
Mark sighs like the answer isn’t the one he wants.
His micromanaging is wasting precious time and delaying resolution. A quick message to our group chat asking for an update would’ve been sufficient. Conference calls make him feel important, though.
Twisting my unruly hair and sliding a pencil through the knot to secure it, I shake my head at the cell phone lying on the table and circle my hand in the air in the universal sign for hurry-this-up-already.
“Okay,” Mark finally says, reluctantly. “But keep me posted, Sophie. I need to know the moment this is fixed. Martin Mendoza isnothappy.”
I want to bang my head against my laptop, but instead, I say, “Will do,” in my best team-player voice and hang up.
I work at the dining table off the kitchen, and Lola is standing at the stove making spaghetti, so she heard the entire conversation. “I wonder, do you think Martin Mendoza is unhappy?”
Frustration suppresses my grin, but it wants to break free.
“Fucking hell, that guy doesn’t know when to shut up,” she continues.
“Succinct, he is not,” I agree. Lola’s heard plenty of venting about Mark, so she knows what he’s like.
"How goes the slog of monotony today? I see you spiced it up with your reindeer jammies. How very out of season, you rebel." Lola wiggles her eyebrows to reinforce the sarcasm.
"I need to do laundry, and today has been predictably nonstop. Mark started bitching about nothing two hours earlier than he normally does and then bitching about an actual emergency, managing to only make it worse. So, a normal Tuesday."
“It’s Thursday,” Lola corrects.
“Yeah, whatever. They kinda blur together.”
"You’re livin’ the dream, Soph," she mocks.
I flip her off and she smiles. "It's not all bad. I have stability," I say, not saying the other part. That for a long time we didn't have that, and while it wasn’t monotonous, it was terrifying. Boring has been won hard-fought. Even if I wonder if it’s contributed to rapidly aging my soul. There wasn't time forfunbefore. My days were spent weighing decisions that kept our little trio safe. I didn't take risks because nothing has ever been worth it before, personally or professionally.
“You should have his job, Soph.”
I shrug. I applied. They said I didn’t meet the qualifications because I don’t have a degree. They hired Mark instead. I’m still bitter.
