“Casey,”Fari whines as I drop into my chair. “I’m sick of reconciliations.”
“Why are you doing reconciliations? Pawn that shit off on Accounting.”
Her nose wrinkles. “I can’t just pawn shit off. I’m a freshman!”
I laugh, uncapping a highlighter, and think to myself,This is it.If I had to boil down why I like working in finance, I’d do it by explaining month-end.
It’s a little bit of a con we’re running here: convincing people of the incredibly high stakes and very intense difference between 7 percent and 8.5 percent ROI. But at the same time, that 1.5 percent really doesmatter,and if you can find it, if you can make it happen, it sometimes feels bigger than anything else you’ve ever accomplished. Because it could mean a project green light, or maybe a new hire, somebody getting a bonus that helps them finally afford their dream vacation. I’ve always loved the idea that numbers I analyze might help somebody’s dreams come true, and I’ve always hoped I’m not simply lining the CEO’s pocket.
“Right.” I nod to Fari. “I forgot we haze with reconciliations. Carry on.”
Benny sits on the edge of my desk and smirks. “As a junior in adulthood, I demand you each bring me a fanciful, luxurious coffee on Monday. I’ll rank whose choice is better, and the loser has to answer the phone the next time the COO’s ex-wife calls.”
I eye Benny suspiciously. “Why are you in such a good mood?” He’s one of those people who are only allowed to approachyou,not the other way around. When he comes to see me and Fari, it’s either in a state of flurried commotion or because he’s in the mood to fuck around.
“It’s month-end,” Benny answers, examining his multicolored fingernails. “During month-end, everyone else gets so stressed out, they block their calendars all day. No executive babies to corral, since they’re holed up in their offices, figuring out how to blame each other for missing last month’s targets.”
“I’m so glad our misery can be your pleasure,” I intone.
“Pipe it down with the attitude, chica.” He taps my forehead, scolding me like a toddler. “I heard about your playdate with Alex yesterday. It sounds like Fari’s the one doing the legwork around here. You better get to it. Double-time now.”
“Go away, Benny. I have a playdate with the income statement.”
He laughs, face pointed at the ceiling. “I love it when I’m happy and you’re not.”
I scowl as he walks away. Fari snorts from her cube.
The next three hours are spent reviewing expense line items until my eyes bleed. After that, I double-check the reconciliations Fari wasn’t sure about and then make Don’s hedge numbers pretty.
“If we make the numbers pretty,” he tells me, “we might get bonuses.”
It’s incentive enough to take my time making his summary shine.
At some point in the midafternoon, Miriam texts,Today my Co-Star app told me yes to karaoke and no to hibernation. Therefore,I need you drunk, loose lipped, and ready for a duet when I get off my shift at midnight.
I reply,let’s run it back.
Around six thirty, Fari taps out. I high-five her as she leaves. Don is gone fifteen minutes later, muttering something very on-brand about an elementary school music program. I’m not long behind—I want to make it to the Ralph Lauren sample sale in SoHo before the Oaxacan reservation with Brijesh tonight that I just got a calendar reminder for—but right after Don vanishes, I get an unexpected message.
Alex Harrison:It’s nearly seven pm on a Friday. Don’t you have a life?
Casey Maitland:I could say the same???
Alex Harrison:I had to work late tonight. Some girl projectiled all over my clothes yesterday and shot my productivity to hell
Casey Maitland:Yikes, what’d you do to trigger such a bad reaction?
Alex Harrison:I got you to laugh, didn’t I? counting that as a win.
The grin on my face right now is frankly just embarrassing.
Alex Harrison:Andre mentioned you were looking for me earlier. Sorry I couldn’t get back to you until now, I’ve been slammed. Anything you need?
I chew on my lip, debating what to say. Truth is, I was only checking to make sure he’d shown up to work today at all. Part of me worried he was hiding out somewhere with his tail between his legs, debating whether to turn in his notice.
Idoactually need something from Alex now, but I can’t type out Tracy’s request in our chat box. Getting him to open up to me is going to require more stealth than that.
Another wave of guilt presses in on me. The idea of using Alex for information crawls up my skin like a pest.
