Yet here I am. Standing in front of my son’s ex-girlfriend’s hotel room. My son’s ex-girlfriend, who is also my subordinate. This is wild and reckless behavior.
But every time I force myself down to the end of the hall, to the elevators, I can’t push the button.
My concerns aren’t entirely self-centered.
When I checked in with Mauricio, he mentioned that Evangeline was using a flex day. That in and of itself is not remarkable. Our leadership is encouraged to accommodate employee time off requests that don’t interfere with business operations, and they all know to notify me if they receive a request that falls into a gray area so I can make the final call.
I’m changing the reputation at Granata from the inside. Doing what I can to support the staff. To give them time to rest and recover.
Between long travel schedules and time changes, it’s only fair. The first few days of the week are the ideal time to recharge, because we’re about to gear up for this week’s grand prix.
Evangeline isn’t the only employee using flex time today, I’m sure, but it’s been raining all day, so I can’t imagine many would be exploring Suzuka.
The niggling concern in my gut won’t leave me alone. What if she’s sick?
She’s mentioned her food allergies, and I know she has aversions to consider as well.
Plus, there’s the original excuse I found for seeking her out.
I can’t, for the life of me, find the fidget she made me in Australia.
Granata performed extremely well last weekend, exceeding my expectations and the expectations of the media and analysts. Everything is coming up roses, and the outlook for this weekend’s race looks great. Or it did until I realized I was missing my lucky charm.
I texted Sophie, assuming Ollie swiped it after all.
But the little goober swears he doesn’t have it.
What am I going to do? Argue with a five-year-old or insist my pregnant ex-wife questions her kids further?
Evangeline made it seem like making the fidget was no big deal. She makes them for all her friends, after all.
My plan was to find her in the cafeteria and request she make me another one when she has the time. Obviously, I didn’t find her. That’s how I learned of her flex day in the first place.
Tomorrow, I’ve got a full day of media and press. My schedule is jam packed. The prospect of not seeing Evangeline until Friday at the earliest was too depressing. So I did a little investigating and found her room number.
She gave me the fidget before qualifying last week, so I’d feel better having the replacement before we head into the practice sessions on Friday.
I pause in front of room 607 once more, planting my feet wide and squaring my shoulders.
This is fine. I can do this. I’ll stand here, in the hall, to make my request.
Sure, this could have been an email, but she’s using her flex time, so out of respect, I chose not to contact her that way. Yet somehow I didn’t consider whether showing up at her door is respecting her time.
I’m so out of my depth here.
It’s wrong to even know which room is hers. Having access to themanifest for the hotel is a perk that I truly never planned to use when I was promoted. And yet here I fucking am.
I survey the bank of elevators one more time.
Then, decidedly, I knock in what I hope is a nonthreatening way on her door.
On the other side of the solid wood, she’s talking, but her tone is conversational. She’s not calling out to me.
Maybe she isn’t alone. A pang of jealousy strikes me like lightning at the thought. Why does that bother me?
I shake my head to clear it. She’s friendly with a number of drivers and other people around the paddock. I have no right to even think about who my employees could be associating with on their own time.
As her voice drifts closer, another thought occurs to me.
