“The Data Strategy team. Do you know them?”
“Who’s the team lead?”
“Naomi Evans, but she’s on mat leave. The interim is named Connor.”
“Oh yeah,” she says, “I think I know him.” And then a second later, “Wait, Connor who?”
I actually can’t remember.
I try and picture the last name on his email signature and draw a complete blank. “Hat, glasses…kind of looks like a grown-up version of a kid.”
“Oh, Connor Reid. Yeah. I thought you meant Connor Jones and I was thinking, how do you know my old piano teacher?”
“Have you done any work with him?”
She pauses to sip the dregs of her vodka soda from two tiny cocktail straws.
“Sort of. He helped me set up A/B testing on the new homepage designs last year when I couldn’t figure out how to do it. He’s pretty smart. Oh, and he loves hot dogs.”
“So you liked him?”
“I mean, I thought Ben was hotter but I’d definitely have sex with him, yeah.”
She looks at me very pointedly when she says this, like it’s actually me who’s just said I’d have sex with Connor, which I wouldnot,so I don’t know why I’m reacting like the two of us are already secretly doingit.
“I’ve never met Ben,” I say, feeling the heat creep up my neck.
“He’s not single, so don’t bother. Can you hold my drink for a sec? I need more lip gloss.”
She thrusts her glass toward me, and I hold it while she pulls a tube from her pocket and lines her lips with perfect precision. The alcohol may be impairing her powers of reason but is having no impact whatsoever on her fine motor skills.
Just then my phone chimes in my pocket. Like a creature summoned from the deep, Connor’s name appears beside a little envelope on my screen with the subject lineSkills Test.
I take my sweet time with my farewells at the bar, offering up dozens of loose-limbed hugs as I make my way toward the door, begging people not to be strangers, to let me know if they need anything, or have left anything behind. I’m unexpectedly choked up at saying goodbye to so many of the people I’ve known since I first moved here, and the realization that even if I keep this job, I’ll basically be starting all over again now that most of my friends are gone.
“Heading out?” Andy asks, as I slip through the door. He’s standing out front, having a smoke.
“Yeah. It’s time to audition for my new team,” I say. I point at the cigarette in his hand. “What happened to quitting?”
“Today doesn’t count.”
Considering the events of this morning, that seems fair.
He takes a drag. “Not many of us left now,” he says.
“There really isn’t,” I say. “It sucks.”
“You and me will stick together, though, yeah?”
I chuckle at this. “Of course. You’re one of my last friends here.”
“Right back at you.” He nods. “Good luck in there. Give your new Taskio overlords hell.”
I salute him, then head on myway.
Five
Back at the office, as promised, Connor has sent through a link to complete the assessment, the lone email in my otherwise empty inbox. I click it, and scan the instruction page, noting with a sinking feeling that once I hit submit, my scores will be sent straight to him.
