“I don’t think so.” I pulled out my crunchy peanut butter and plum jam on whole wheat bread sandwich.
Before I took a bite, he stared at my sandwich. “Remember that day in the park when . . .”
I whipped my head toward him. Our eyes locked. For a brief moment, I saw the old Ian. It was a little disconcerting. Then just like that, it was gone.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you still eat those.”
I had probably eaten more peanut butter and jam sandwiches than I could count, but I still loved them. They were a reminder of childhood and happy times. Some of those happy times included Ian. I wondered what day in the park he remembered, because there were several to choose from. It was our favorite place to study and engage in other activities.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, I can’t believe people eat raw fish.”
He held up a sushi roll and downed it.
I went back to my plain sandwich. “So, what did you want to discuss?” I asked after a few bites.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and pulled up a file on the laptop closest to him. “I wanted to discuss the direction of the product, new feature enhancements, branding, etc.”
“Great, I’ve been working on a roadmap . . .”
He didn’t even let me finish my sentence before he began showing me mockups of a totally revamped product. It looked nothing like the original. It was overly sleek and slightly complicated in my opinion.
“Have you ever worked with banks and credit unions before?” I interrupted him after several minutes.
“A few,” he responded.
“Okay. Then did you know that most marketing departments, especially in smaller financial institutions, don’t have access to IT departments, and most of them lack high tech skills?”
“This product doesn’t only have to be utilized by financial clients.”
“I agree, and I would like to branch out to other verticals, but I don’t want to alienate our current clientele in the meantime. I believe the roadmap I’ve created addresses both issues.”
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Show me what you have.” It was like he was daring me to dazzle him.
No problem. I pulled up my roadmap that included a presentation outlining what I believed to be key feature enhancements, like an expanded ad library and tools to create your own ads with the ability to add branding and logos. I discussed my idea for tier levels of features and support with varying price points. I also mapped out a free version with a limited feature set that was just enough to water the mouths of potential clients in the hopes of turning them into paying customers. Between speaking I would glance at Mr. Greyson. He was engrossed in the presentation. When I was done, I let out a deep breath and turned toward him.
He grinned and nodded his head. “I’m impressed.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am,” he said bluntly.
I couldn’t help it, I rolled my eyes. “What did you expect?”
He touched my hand, but quickly seemed to realize that was crossing professional boundaries. He pulled it back, but it was too late. My hand was saying,Hey, I remember that touch.And unfortunately, it liked it. Dumb hand.
“You’re taking that wrong.”
“Oh really, howshouldI take it?”
He leaned forward. “Are you going to be sensitive about everything I say?”
I leaned in closer, getting right in his face. “Do you plan on being continually condescending, Mr. Greyson?”
We both stared hard at one another for several moments. Boss walked in and caught us in our staring contest. We both jumped and sat up straight. I smoothed out my blouse. Boss looked between the two of us. I could feel my cheeks redden out of embarrassment and anger.
“Great, I’m glad to find you both together,” Boss said uneasily.
“Ms. Bryant was just showing me her roadmap,” Ian, or whoever he was, informed Boss.
