By she, Don means our chief financial officer, Tracy Garcia—an absolute bad bitch and my personal barometer for success.
“After that,” Don says, “can you help Fari do a sensitivity test for subscription price increases on that fashion mag?”
“Frame?” I raise a single brow.
“Yeah, that one.”
For a seven-year employee, you might expect Don to have long memorized the names of all the magazines in our portfolio, but he cares too much about the profit-leverage effect and debt restructuring to let anything else live in his head rent-free.
I click my ballpoint pen against the desk and say, “You got it.”
“Thank you, Casey.” Then his face changes, and he adds more quietly, “This afternoon, we’ll talk aboutBite the Hand,okay? Just block thirty minutes”—he winces, eyes blinking closed—“actually, block fifteen. But we’ll talk. I promise.”
The smile I give him is genuine, because Don is an all-rounder. Great first boss, great human being. I hear a lot of first-boss horror stories—especially in the finance world—but even though we’re probably all alittleoverworked, I’ve never regretted accepting this position.
He leaves, and I make his data (a three-year comparison of ad sales forGarden Girl)beautiful. Colors, conditionally highlighted cells, pie charts, pick-your-own-poison drop-down lists. After I send off the edited report, I wheel over to Fari’s desk and show her how to model a sensitivity test. We make nerdy Excel jokes that would send a right-brained person to therapy and put in emoji qualifiers beside all the variables. Sad face for 20 percent increase. Throw-up face for 30 percent. Sunglasses guy for negative 5, even though there’s nowaythat’s happening.
By the time I’m back at my own cubicle an hour and a half later, there’s a message from Brijesh blinking in the bottom right corner of my screen.
Come down to thirty-seven. Dustin needs a Nashville native to taste test his healthed-up hot chicken. It’s criminally good, but you be the judge.
Ohbaby.TenA.M.hot chicken? That is… exactly what I didn’t know I needed right now. He sent the message fifteen minutes ago. I toss up a prayer I’m not too late.
“You’re still a vegetarian, right, Fari?”
“Last I checked.”
“Cool. I’m going on a walk.”
I grab my phone and badge and head for the elevators. On my way, I pass the executive concierge, Benny.
Benny has only two moods: over-the-moon incandescently happy (usually following a successful night’s drag performance) or churlish and malcontent (usually following several days in a row he hasn’t gotten to perform). Right now, he’s on the desk phone, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. So, the latter. I bet he’s on the phone with our COO’s ex-wife. She calls several times a week, demanding Benny put her through to her ex-husband. (Benny has been explicitly told never to do so.)
He catches my eye and covers the mouthpiece of the phone. “Later, can you remind me why women deserve rights?” he whispers.
I wink at him and jab my thumb at the button to call the elevator. Once I’m inside, my mind drifts back to the man from this morning.
What was he doing up here on ninety-eight? Who was he here to see? I didn’t catch a glimpse of where he was headed after he left me behind, fighting a smile, but he looked more comfortable strollinginto the C-suite than I did after I’d worked up here for half a year. It took me a while to adjust, working so closely with the company’s head honchos. I still don’t even use the bathroom on this floor if I’m sensing gastrointestinal turbulence.
My phone vibrates again.
Miriam:How you doing, lovebug?
Casey:Fine.
Miriam:Liar.
Casey:I promise. It just wasn’t meant to be.
For a minute I think she’s done, and then, this:
Miriam:You know you’re allowed to like what you’re good at, right? I for one am great at finding the perfect vein for butterfly IVs. I am the best vein finder in the whole peds wing and damn proud of it.
I know she’s right. And I do like what I’m good at. The problem is I’m not sure my family likes what I’m good at.
Dad: Songwriter, quasi-famous musician.
Stepdad: Florist who does Bachelor Nation weddings.
