I say nothing, but oblige him, dropping down on the sofa and crossing my arms for good measure. Connor takes the chair across from me, leaning toward me with his elbows resting on his knees.
“Listen, Annie, while I admire your persistence, and am genuinely a little bit in awe of how rude you’re willing to be considering you’re also at my mercy, it’s not going to work. This isn’t the role for you.”
He’s doing that thing again, like he was earlier. Trying to let me down gently. I hateit.
I cast around, desperate for something that might convince him to give me the job instead of throwing me out in the cold, and then remember what Alex told me back at Murphy’s, about the reporting tool they can’t get anyone to use. What did he call it again?
I’ve gotit.
“What about the reporting dashboard?”
Connor’s entire demeanor shifts in an instant, going from playful to reserved.
“What aboutit?”
“From what I hear it’s not going so well.”
Irritation flits across his features, his eyebrows pressing together just a fraction before smoothing back out again. “I don’t know what makes you think that.”
Finally, finally, I’ve succeeded in putting him on the back foot. I’m sure Alex told me—he did, didn’t he?—that they had been working on it togetherlastyear. That’s a long project. A big project. And until today I’d never even heard ofit.
“It’s an internal tool, right? To standardize reporting.” I’m trying to make it sound like I know more than I do. I hope it’s working. “But people aren’t usingit.”
“People are using it,” he argues, without much conviction.
“Not enough people,” I say. “I can help you with that.”
He snorts like,yeah OK, sure.
“Do you know what I think, Connor?”
“I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”
“I think you need me. You don’t know it yet, but youdo.”
He’s the one leaning back now, arms crossed, his whole posture guarded. I press my advantage.
“I saw your geek squad out there. You have enough people to help you with SML—”
“SQL.”
“Whatever,” I say, swatting his words away. “You have enough dorks to help you with the technical stuff already. I can focus on the rollout of your dashboard. It’s a match made in heaven.”
“Sounds like a match made in hell.”
He succeeds in winning his first smile of the day from me. I might actually have him here. This might really work.
“Give me the job,” I say, confident now. “I know what the product squads are saying. I’ll roll out your dashboard, and handle any of the other annoying admin eating up everyone’s time so you can focus on what’s important.”
“I need a data strategist.”
“And I am one,” I counter. “I can help you with all the data you can’t find on a spreadsheet. I’ll be like your secret weapon.”
He’s staring at a point beyond my shoulder now, his fingers drumming lightly against his lips. Then it happens: he thinks of something. I watch his eyes spark to life, then sharpen directly onme.
“I guess I could,” he says, like maybe there’s some big loophole after all. “Wedoneed help with the dashboard.”
I do not trust his tone. “But…”
