Still logged into the meeting, I sit back in my chair, hands folded patiently, and wait like I do at the end of every in-person meeting, ensuring that I’m available if someone needs me.
I’m unwavering in my commitment to this team, and that includes being the last to leave each meeting. One of my many goals is to be present and available in a way that garners constant assurance. Especially after so many people endured the quiet, insidious harassment of my predecessor.
Changing the company’s culture is priority number one. It’s my sincere belief that when people feel respected and cared for, results follow.
Typically, meetings like this are held at headquarters, when the administrative personnel would be working. Instead, we broke tradition and encouraged them to work from home between testing and the first race of the season. My hope is that the quality time galvanizes them for the long season ahead.
While I wait for the last few stragglers to sign off, I glance out the window. I turn back quickly, only to do a double take when my brain registers the sight.
Evangeline is in the middle of my driveway now, talking animatedly to the movers.
She has both arms held out, and everything about her posture is off.
Something is wrong.
She needs help.
The urge to go out there and assist is strong. This is my property, so I have a responsibility, don’t I? She’s here because of a fallout caused by my son.
I grind my molars and tap my fingers on my thighs, focusing on the three names still left on the screen.
Another minute passes.
I check my calendar, confirming my next meeting isn’t for another hour. Then I scroll through my emails, but there’s nothing of urgency there. Despite every attempt to concentrate on work, my focus keeps drifting.
Another look out the window confirms that Evangeline is still out there, now with her hands clasped and on top of her head. Her whole body is shaking back and forth in an action that from here looks like a very definite “no,” and I think her arms might be trembling.
A ball of lead forms in my gut as I take in her distress.
On screen, Leslie asks if Mauricio has filled the positions needed for the reputation assessment team. The question piques my interest and pulls me back into business.
The reputation assessment team is a new initiative I’m spearheading. The idea is to have dedicated personnel monitoring social media, traditional media, influencer opinion, and blogs in an effort to capture Granata’s precarious reputation within the industry.
Though hiring isn’t going well, according to Mauricio. There are still two openings on the team. From what I understand, most applicants haven’t been a good fit because they’re eager to make content, which is very different from what we’re trying to achieve with the rep assess team.
Leslie and Mauricio agree to repost the job description for twenty-four hours. It’s all the time we have left, considering we’re flying to Australia next week.
I mull over options. I could pull employees from other departments or start the season with a two-person cohort, then scale as we go, but I hate to water down the impact of what we’re aiming to do.
I swore I’d turn this team’s reputation around, and I fully intend to deliver on that promise. But dammit, meaningful change needs to be measured and tracked. Collecting qualitative data in addition to the quantitative polls we have in place is essential. I can’t simply assume our reputation is improving without any metrics.
With my pen between my teeth, I lean back in my chair, thinking. This time when I look out the window, I find the driveway vacant.
I press out a sigh, my muscles relaxing, but an instant later, my relief vanishes. Because my first observation was incorrect. As it turns out, the woman I was so transfixed by hasn’t left the driveway.
She is, however, lying flat on her back, arms and legs stretched wide like a starfish.
My pulse stutters. Fuck it.
“I have another commitment that needs attention, so I’ll be signing off now.” Without waiting for Leslie to acknowledge my abrupt departure, I click the exit button and leave the meeting. I push to my feet with more force than I mean to, sending my chair toppling to the ground. Then I take off toward the driveway.
CHAPTER 4
EVANGELINE
RIP to my dignity, my sanity, and my credit score.
Luca didn’t pay the moving fee in advance. And the movers tacked on an extra one hundred and sixty dollars to the base fee because of the time required to safely get my couch into the garage. Then they made sure to place emphasis on how little they make without tips.
