“Yup, exactly.”
Again, Julio shrugged, and they went back to the forklift. Julio returned the pallet as instructed, then rejoined the group. “Okay,” Lizzie said. “Julio, please go retrieve the pallet again—and Will, if you’d do us the honor of timing it again?”
Will nodded, and Julio jumped in the forklift and went down the aisle. With the pallet at 90 degrees, the forklift feet slid in easily, lifted, and backed up. Without needing to do a three-point turn in the aisle, everyone knew—without hearing the time—that this was much faster. When Julio came back, Will said, “11 seconds.”
“¡Pero nadie me dijo!But no one ever said to put them like that!” Ignacio bellowed.
Lizzie sipped hercolada. “Exactly. That’s why you hire me.”
Then she turned to Will. “By my calculation, I’m saving you about 30 seconds a pick. At 1,000 picks a day, that’s more than 8 hours, or 4 hours per forklift. What’s that, like $300k in annual savings? That’s one heck of a sample.” Lizzie looked victoriously at Will.
A rueful smile crossed Will’s face.
He grabbed his phone—never breaking eye contact.
“Hey, it’s me. Get the contract ready for Lizzie. Pay whatever she asks…”
Lizzie could hear muffled protest from the other end.
“Yeah. She’s worth every penny.”
He hung up.
Lizzie grabbed the tape roll.
“After saving you $300k, I’d say, breakfast’s on you.”
She walked out—coladain hand, Will watching her, amused.
Will let Lizzie pick the restaurant for breakfast, and she picked a nearby La Carreta. La Carreta is a Miami staple: a chain of Cuban spots with consistently good food that, as they claimed, was made withamor. It was also a good value. Lizzie felt Cuban food was best when it was cheap. It used humble ingredients, off-cuts, and preparations that lent themselves to maximizing flavor and fullness. It is where Lizzie liked to do business, celebrate birthdays, or get a quick coffee.
True to his word, Will asked the company lawyer, Carolina Molina, to meet with them to finalize the contract. She didn’t seem happy to have to rush to review the contract to be signed with Lizzie, and to be subjected to stepping into a place as low-brow as some considered a La Carreta. Still, she arrived relatively quickly, albeit with a scowl firmly affixed to her face.
Carolina shook Lizzie’s hand with a smile that looked like a grimace and said “pleasure” with all the warmth of someone describing a wound. She slid in next to Will, looking like she was attempting to avoid touching anything—except her boss.
From her cardigan draped over her shoulder to her immaculately coiffed hair and pearl earrings—and capped off by her order of hot tea with lemon—Carolina looked completely out of place in La Carreta, and she wasn’t making any attempt to fit in. Lizzie thought she could picture Carolina in sterile rooms with modern furniture or maybe a country club. But among the loud conversations, overly familiar servers, and family-friendly interior of the restaurant, she might as well be a different species.
Carolina didn’t even try to hide her discomfort. “Is this your kind of place?” she asked, looking around the restaurant.
Lizzie nodded, happy to lay claim to a place like this. Will seemed not to notice the comment, distracted by something on his phone. “Your family name is Molina? Are they Colombian? Venezuelan?” Lizzie asked.
“Spain, by way of Argentina,” Carolina responded as if it were the equivalent of holding up a certificate of authenticity. Lizzie nodded, feeling that she now understood Carolina a little better.
Oftentimes, people grouped Hispanics together, thinking that the bonds of a common language were like a fraternity and that they were all of one mind. The truth wasn’t quite so kumbaya. There were differences in culture, priorities, and a feeling that their own was superior. Lizzie felt that Carolina was probably someone who felt, whether because of her fair features or European descent, disassociated with other people of Hispanic descent, and viewed Cubans, or at least the ones who would hold business meetings in a La Carreta, as below her. Carolina wouldn’t be the first Hispanic woman Lizzie had met who considered Lizzie to be less-than because of her tan skin, curly hair, or Cuban heritage; Lizzie took the snobs in stride, and delighted in outclassing and outperforming them.
Carolina touched Will’s arm tenderly, and Will looked up from his phone to see her gesturing to the folder—presumably holding Lizzie’s contract. “Shall we?” Carolina said, shining a large smile she must save for Will.
Carolina pulled out a wet wipe from her purse—because of course she carried those—and wiped down the table before laying out the contract Lizzie recognized as the standard one from her company, except this one had sticky notes with the neatest handwriting she’d ever seen, littered around the pages. “So I’ve reviewed the contract a few times, and there are a fewnotes I think we should cover. For one, you give a timeline, but there is no time-definite guarantee.”
“What type of guarantee would you be looking for?” Lizzie asked. “The returns are figured on an annualized basis and conditional on the improvements being met and on a year-over-year comparison, assuming the same market conditions. While I believe all of this is fair, you can hardly expect me to guarantee those results and wait a year for them to produce before paying me.”
Will leaned forward, excited to get into this sparring match with Lizzie. “No, but that doesn’t mean the work should go on indefinitely, and that we invest without knowing when the improvements and changes should be completed. After all,youwere the one who said you could implement the changes in 90 days.”
Lizzie considered this for a moment and then said, “Fair enough. As long as I am not met with any opposition—and barring any act-of-God-type unforeseen circumstances—I am happy to guarantee that the work will be completed by the end of the year, which is just over 90 days.”
“Good, I’ll add that. After all, we can’t just expect to have you around forever.” Carolina mumbled the last part under her breath, but Lizzie still heard her.That seemed uncalled for,she thought. She shot a look at Will, who she thought would admonish Carolina in some way, but he was looking at his phone again. Lizzie rolled her eyes and marked another notch against Will in the imaginary tally Lizzie had in her head.
“And there is the matter of your rate. The hourly expectation versus your rate seems to imply…”
