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Maybe it’s the fatigue, but everyone I’ve come into contact with today has irritated the crap out of me. Joyntz’s marketing manager sent a snippy email complaining about the “societal orientation” ideas my Harvest marketing person has “foisted” upon them. In our family text, Brody and Dan teased me, claiming there aren’t enough planners in the world for me to organize the takeover of a company. And my lunch delivery went to a Carol on the twelfth floor.
And now, the tiny amount of late afternoon sun that sneaks in between the brick wall and my window is reflecting off my computer screen so badly I can barely read anything.
I snatch up my phone and call building management.
“Manager’s office,” an annoyingly laid-back male voice drawls.
“Charlotte Lipton, from Harvest Enterprises on the fifty-fourth floor. I asked for a window blind three weeks ago. Any sign of it?”
“Let me check, Miss Lipton.”
“Ms.,” I say, buzzing like a frustrated bee.
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s Ms. Not Miss. You have absolutely no idea whether I’m married or not. Nor does it matter.”
“Right, Miss. I mean, Ms.” He makes no attempt to disguise his sigh.
“So, any sign of my blind? I can barely work when the sun shines in the afternoon.”
“Office number fifty-four slash one-ten, right?”
“Yes.”
“The work order says it will be here next week.”
“Next week?” I huff louder than his sigh.
“Yes, Miss.” He pauses. “Ms.” I can almost hear him rolling his eyes at me. “We should be able to install it next week.”
“Guess I’ll have to hope it’s not too sunny between now and then.” I hang up and toss my phone onto the desk.
So annoying. I swivel my monitor to try to get it out of the light, but the only thing that gets clearer is the dust on the screen.
I bury my face in my palms and groan in frustration with myself. Who the hell have I become? Someone who’s snarky with colleagues, my brothers, and delivery and maintenance people?
I should be happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve taken a giant step down the road to the career I want. Yet here I am, grumping at everyone, and not one of them deserves it.
Only one person actually deserves it, and I’ve been too much of a coward to say a word to him.
Maybe it’s time that was rectified. Maybe it would cleanse me of my grumpiness. Maybe once it’s off my chest I can start enjoying this job I’ve wanted for so long.
Full of renewed purpose, I stride past my completely empty old desk and yank Max’s office door open.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, his back to me as he finishes a call, shirt glowing bright white in the sun streaming through the giant windows—all of which are fully fitted with remote-controlled blinds. When I told building management one of them had broken a few months ago, it was fixed the same day. I guess we’re not all equal.
Max spins around, taking the phone from his ear. “Come in, why don’t you? It’s not like I’m on the phone or anything.”
My heart’s beating a little faster than normal, but he’s nothing I can’t handle. “I heard you saying goodbye. I wouldn’t be so rude as to interrupt.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He ambles across the room toward his desk, then drops his phone on it. “Having trouble playing with the big boys?” He grins at me. “Need some advice from Uncle Max?”
He’s not going to get a rise out of me with his teasing. Also, he’s in for a bit of a shock. “The opposite. I’ve come to give Uncle Max some advice.”
“Ha,” he scoffs. “You’ve been a project manager for five minutes and you think you have something to teach me?”
“You’ve learned plenty from me, Max.” I lift my chin just a touch. Dealing with this man is something I definitely know how to do. My knees are shaking just the tiniest bit, though. “I thought being nice to people was one of them, but that seems to be slipping.”
