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A chance to run one of the smaller new acquisitions, like Joyntz, is exactly what I need now. Something to sink my teeth into. A way to prove I’m not just the world’s most efficient planner and coffee maker.
“Hey, grumpy pants.” Vivian, the CFO’s assistant, perches on the end of my desk. The exact spot where Elliot also perches when he’s helping me with computer things or just hanging out. “Has our evil overlord upset you already and it’s only Monday afternoon?” She nods toward the glass wall that looks into Max’s empty office.
Guess the frustration must be written all over my face.
“It’s nothing.” I close the contract.
She waggles her finger at me. “That’s the same look my daughter has when she comes home from work and her boss has done something to piss her off.”
Vivian took me under her maternal wing within hours of me starting this job. Almost every day she reminds me to “take no shit.” She once sewed me into my skirt when it ripped right before I had to jump on a helicopter to accompany Max to a meeting with an electric car company. And three weeks ago, she took me out for lunch at my favorite sushi restaurant, produced a box of tissues, and listened to me sob between mouthfuls over being dumped by Greg, who said there wasn’t one moment in our four-year relationship when I hadn’t put work before him.
The guy before him said that too. And the one before that.
And exactly where has all this relationship sacrificing gotten me? Still remaking Max’s cold coffee, that’s where.
To be fair, it has also upgraded my community college associate’s degree to a bachelor’s in business management—from Columbia, no less. The company footed the bill, which meant I moved heaven and earth to fit in all that study around the long hours I work here. I did it, though, and finished second in my program.
Yet still Max won’t promote me. And I can’t even look for a higher-level job at another company. My fancy new degree is a pair of golden handcuffs—if I quit within the next year, I’ll have to pay back the tuition. And my bank account is definitely not awash with the tens of thousands of dollars that would cost.
“Maybe it’s what Max’s not done that’s the problem,” I tell Vivian.
She runs her finger along the row of pens sitting in rainbow color order in my desk organizer. “He still won’t listen to what a great project manager you’d make?”
I shake my head and look down at my pinging phone. I open the alert for a post by a high school friend I haven’t spoken to in years. There’s a photo of her holding up a job offer letter and being kissed on the cheek by her boyfriend. The caption says, “Always wanted to run a fashion chain. Couldn’t have gotten here without the love of this handsome guy.”
I hold it up to Vivian. “She used to pay me to do her math homework because she couldn’t understand it. Now look at her.”
Vivian screws up her eyes to focus on the picture. “The fella’s not that hot, though.” She always manages to raise a smile. “Maybe Max is always preoccupied when he’s at the office. Maybe you need to get him out for lunch or something where you can talk to him with no distractions and he can focus on your watertight argument for promotion.”
“Maybe.” She makes a good point. He’s very focused when he’s here. “Perhaps it has been a while since I was clear enough about it.”
“And he has softened up a bit around the edges since being with Polly,” Vivian says.
My phone pings twice in quick succession. Messages from my two brothers on our sibling group text.
The first is from Dan, who’s just south of here, working at a Wall Street investment bank. Except work isn’t exactly what he’s doing right now. The picture shows him and three other guys in expensively tailored suits, sitting in a restaurant and holding up glasses of champagne. They’re all a little flushed. The text says, “Some days you have to stop work early to celebrate a big win.”
“I’m happy for my little brothers, I genuinely am.” I show Vivien Dan’s photo. “But they’ve passed me while I’ve stood still.”
I flip to Brody’s photo. He’s wearing a snorkel and standing chest deep in clear blue Costa Rican waters. He’s spending the summer working on a sea turtle conservation project as part of his marine biology degree at UC San Diego.
Vivian glances at it then gives me her stern motherly look. “They didn’t pass you. You gave them that. Those things in those photos, they wouldn’t be doing them if it wasn’t for you. And that young man”—she points at Brody—“would barely be standing, never mind swimming with turtles. Don’t you forget that.”
“But it’s just?—”
“Quiet day in finance is it, Vivian?” Max’s voice booms behind her.
She hops off my desk and rolls her eyes as he strides by and into his office. “I was just leaving.” She walks backward toward the hallway mouthing, “Don’t take any shit.”
She’s right. The whole reason I came to New York and slept on a friend’s couch while I found my first job was so I could work my way up to the business career I’ve always wanted.
My first boss at an overfunded start-up was a total jerk who abused my naïve enthusiasm by piling ridiculous amounts of work on me. But I soaked up all the knowledge I could before leaving to work for a guy who turned out to be a hideous letch. I fell on my feet with one of the city’s rising real estate stars, though. I thought I was disciplined and motivated till I worked for her and learned just how crucial streamlined systems and processes are to success.
She was great and would have let me stay with her forever, but I always wanted to run a business, so when the opportunity to work for Max came up, I grabbed it and held on tight. He was a man I could learn from, who recognizes potential, and could provide opportunities once I’d proved myself.
And I’ve now spent almost four years here doing just that.
I came to New York because it was finally my time. Time to focus on my life. Time to do what I wanted to do.
