“Not if more people were working onit.”
He starts to shake his head.
“It’s a good idea,” I insist. “If they kill that project now, all those people will end up losing their jobs.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Oh, wake up,” I say. “They will, theysowill. They’re the last Jotter product squad left. If you make the recommendation to kill off integrated templates now, they’ll all lose their jobs—just in time for Taskio to go public!”
Connor and I are standing at opposite ends of the conference room table, Martin’s and John’s heads bobbing back and forth, watching the action like a tennis match.
He softens. “I understand that these are your friends. It’s not that it’s a bad idea. But it doesn’t fit with the direction Brad is movingin.”
“That feature has huge potential to be a game-changer for the platform,” I argue with him. “Ben says—”
“It’s not Ben’s call to make,” he interrupts. “It’s mine. And I’m telling you, it’s not going to work.”
Ben whistles under his breath.
“At least let me talk to them,” I reason. “There might be a way to salvage this.”
“No.” His tone is firm, final. “I warned you when you joined this team our conversations were confidential, and I meant it. All we do is make the recommendations, answer the questions we’re asked. We don’t control the outcome.”
“Bullshit,” I argue. “We all know Brad will go with whatever you tell him. You’re the one who told him about the integratedtemplates in the first place. And you only got that inside information fromme.”
The next review is on Thursday, the big all-hands meeting where product owners pitch ideas and share progress updates of what they’re workingon.
I see the scene play out in front of me. Brad asking Andy’s team to give an update of where they’re at, blissfully unaware that they’re sitting ducks.
“…Which is why it’s important that none of this leaves this room…” Connor, it turns out, was still talking. “Annie. Do you understand?”
Standing there, he feels like a stranger.
“Yes,boss,” I practically spit at him. “I understand.”
Twenty-Eight
Understand? Yes. Care? No.
I find my old team exactly where I left them down in the product department. Alex is milling around near Andy’s desk eating a yogurt while Andy points to something on his screen. The two of them look like the epitome of I-work-in-tech-guys. Alex is in his blue Patagonia half-zip. Andy’s is green.
“Gentlemen.”
“How’s it going,” Alex says around a mouthful.
Andy cranes his neck back. “Oh hey, Annie.”
I’m mad, obviously, but I’m also not a fucking idiot. I don’t need to tell them what Brad said to us upstairs. I just have to drop enough hints so they can connect the dots, and then my work here is done. I also need to do this quickly, before anyone from DatStrat figures out what I’m upto.
“How’s progress coming along on integrated templates?”
Alex snorts. “What progress? It’s sitting with the dev team going nowhere.”
“So what will you present at the meeting Thursday?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Why would we? It’s just an all-hands.”
“Isn’t it a good opportunity to show proof of concept, though? Get some buy-in from the other product owners?”
