Chas adds, “Plus, our existing solutions are proven. We can guarantee results, not offer promises.”
“Exactly,” Chadwick continues. “We gotta keep pounding the risks of E.M.M.A.—the uncertainties, the implementation challenges. Then we present our enhanced chatbot as the reliable alternative.”
The trio murmur in agreement.
“What about Harriet’s team?” Chet asks. “They’re the fucking darlings here, think this place revolves around them.”
“For now,” Chadwick states, sounding both disdainful and dismissive. “But we just gotta think of the long game. That’s why we don’t push for project cancellation. We advocate for some BS ‘hybrid approach’—and incorporate a few of E.M.M.A.’s features into our existing framework. It’ll look collaborative but keep us in the driver’s seat. Eventually we can just dump them and pump the gas.”
“Smart,” Chas says. “We can even keep one or two of her team, bring ’em over to our division. Shows good faith.”
“Dibs on Hana.” Chet again. “She’s hot, her heels do something to me.”
Hana recoils.
“Didn’t you just celebrate your anniversary, man?” Chas teases.
“Yeah. Yeah. Eight fucking years. Becks sure as shit isn’t wearing heels after Junior’s birth, but whatever. At this point, it’s cheaper to keep her.”
Hana is now miming violent retching. I can’t blame her. My stomach is roiling in disgust. Chet’s wife, Rebecca, comes to all of our company events. She’s a stay-at-home mom and always seems really sweet, albeit shy.
“Cheaper to keep her, heh. I hear that, man.” Chadwick lowers his voice, and I have to strain to hear. “Okay, so here’s the deal: We start a whisper campaign. Casual chats with clients, dropping hints about potential delays, cost overruns. Nothing direct, just enough to plant those little seeds of doubt we can cultivate later.”
“Yeah. Yeah. And if anyone asks,” Chet catches on, “we’re just being transparent about project challenges.”
“Exactly. Just some helpful guys,” Chadwick says. “Meanwhile, we fast-track updates to our current software. Add some buzzwords—‘AI-enhanced,’ ‘machine learning optimized.’ It’s not E.M.M.A., but it’ll sound impressive.”
Chas chuckles. “And by the time E.M.M.A.’s ready to launch—”
“If it ever is,” Chadwick interjects. “Harriet’s got Gale Knight, but his ass isn’t exactly hot right now.”
“Alright, boys,” Chet wraps up. “Next meeting’s in ten. In the meantime, we’re not killing E.M.M.A.—we’re ‘evolving’ it. For the good of the company, of course.”
Their voices fade as they head inside. Hana and I exchange glances, the implications sinking in. This isn’t just office politicsanymore—it’s a battle for the future of our work, fought with whispers, doubts, and corporate doublespeak. The challenge is raised: now it isn’t just making E.M.M.A. work, but navigating this minefield of ulterior motives and hidden agendas. I feel a mix of anger and determination rising.
Game on, Chads.
“We have opps,” Hana mutters. “I mean, that was wild.”
“More like yapping,” I say, determined to put on a brave face, even to the closest member of my team. There could be no room for doubt within the ranks. “But are you okay? They said some super-skeevy stuff about you. I can go to HR.”
“I mean, I want to barf. But I want to beat their asses more. They’ll just deny it if we report and worse, they’ll know we’re onto them.”
I hate it, but she’s right. “Let’s get back to our desks and loop Amir and Karl in on Slack. We win. They lose.”
We walk back to our area at a measured pace, careful to keep our faces bored and neutral.
Harriet:??Emergency online team meeting, folks!??
Karl:What’s up, boss?
Hana:The Chads are plotting.
Amir:Oh no, did they finally figure out how to open Excel without calling IT?
Harriet:??Hana and I just overheard them planning to sabotage E.M.M.A.
Karl:Those protein-shake-chugging assholes
