Fffuuuuuuuu that’s probably like what, 60 people?
Freddie
Something like that.
Margot
Lmao, and he’s trying to make the organization function better? Good luck with that when everyone has corporate burnout and loses all investment in organizational success.
Freddie
When I asked if he was going to give the staff raises to account for the increased workload he just laughed at me!!
Grace
He’s probably listening to one of those tech bro podcasts where they circle jerk about how nobody will even need employees in like five years
Margot
I’m surprised he was eating breakfast. Haven’t tech bros moved beyond mastication? I assumed they all had Soylent subscriptions by now.
Freddie
I hate knowing this.
Margot
Well, you are working for him. :(
It hurts to read, but Margot’s right. I knew what I was getting into, how my father operates. I guess I just naively hoped there would be a seamless transfer of ownership to someone else when the sale happened and didn’t think my father would actually “restructure” the organization, which is a business world euphemism for putting yourstaff on the chopping block. A fresh wave of nausea hits me that I suspect has nothing to do with my flight anxiety.
When I signed up for traveling with the team, I didn’t realize it would meantraveltravel. Our next two matches are in Stockholm, the first an exhibition game against a Swedish hockey club followed by a match against the Calgary Wranglers. We’re only going to be gone for five days, but I’m still scrambling with my suitcase by the time the car comes to pick me up and take me to the chartered jet.
I hate flying. I especially hate flying for ten plus hours on a plane filled with oversized men that don’t like me. On top of that, I have no clue if I’ve packed correctly because the farthest I’ve been from home is New York. When the car rolls onto the airport tarmac, I see Ryan passing off his gear to a bag handler, micromanaging the poor guy on how to handle it, and another wave of dread hits me. I open my phone to text Grace and Margot, only to see an email notification.
I see the wordsThe Agnelli Agencyin the sender line. My heart practically stops.
It plummets into my stomach when I flick my phone open.
I know what it says before I’ve finished reading. It’s ado not replyaddress. A thanks, but no thanks.
Thank you for your submission, but the Agnelli Agency is not accepting new clients at this time.
It’s a sucker punch to the gut. My last shot, and they’re not taking new clients. No mention of whether they even glanced at my reel. It’s cold and impersonal, no suggestion to submit again later or addendum to stay in touch. I wasn’t worth the time of day.
Fuck.
My eyes brim with tears, and I blink as they start to roll down my cheeks, hot and stinging. How could such a succinct sentence be so devastating? I shouldn’t have fucking looked. Not before this flight. A shaky breath leaves me as I fight to regain control of myself, batting at my tears with the back of my hands even as I see Ryan glancing at me through the car window. They’re waiting on me. The whole team is going to see me like this. I brush an arm over my face, wiping my tears off on my sleeve.
“Miss?” The driver says.
“Sorry.” I shove the car door open, ignoring the look Ryan gives me as I stagger out. I snatch up my travel tote and make a beeline for the plane as the driver moves to unload my luggage. I just want to get this over with.
Coach Marshall is waiting when I board. When he sees me, he looks me over and jokes, “Was starting to worry you weren’t coming, Fred.” Then, probably noticing the redness of my eyes, his features twist in concern. Pulling me aside, he whispers, “I’ve got some drowsy medication in my bag. Don’t tell him I told you, but Sokolov hates flying, too. Always pack a little extra for him.”
A snotty laugh escapes me at the image of a big, stoic Russian man like Sokolov white knuckling a flight.
“Thanks, Coach,” I say, sniffling. “I should be good with some wine.”
