Page 18 of Technical Advances

“Ross?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you please send an assortment”—Beck looked up, glowering at me—"of breakfast burritos to Benjamin Warren’s address.”

“From Handelman’s,” I reminded him. He scowled in return.

“Yeah. From Handelman’s,” he repeated to our assistant, Ross. “He’s a new hire. If he’s not in the system yet, you can get his info from Erin.”

I heard Ross respond with another “yes, sir” as I entered the closet and picked out a change of clothes.

Why is it that the hours tick by like nanoseconds when I’m in my lab but feel like an eternity when I’m sitting around our pretentious, glossy boardroom table, listening to a bunch of people in suits hammer at Beck for financial information while virtually ignoring me? I can go hours without thinking about taking a break, or eating, or going home, but as I placed a small check mark on item number three (three!) of our monthly board meeting agenda, I was starving and could barely keep still.

The meeting ended as they always do, everyone smiling and shaking hands and agreeing to report back in a month with updates on this or that issue, usually having to do with the bottom line or public relations and not the science we were producing. No one around that table cared to hear the details about the exciting innovations my team worked on every day to keep those profit margins high and keep us in the public eye. Beckett had received approval for the agreement with Benji prior to the meeting, so when that came up on the agenda, it was quickly taken care of, with a note in the minutes that the board had unanimously agreed to the terms outside of the meeting. It was the only time I was directly addressed by one of the board members.

“You think you’ve got another breakthrough on the horizon with Project Orthos, Anson?”

“Yes, I do,” I had responded as I crossed off item number four on the two-page agenda.

Hours later, after we saw the last of the board members out, Beck clapped my back.

“Good meeting.” I’d already removed my jacket and was in the process of removing my tie and rolling up my sleeves, my sense of calm rising with each action. Part of me knew I should be exhausted, but all I could think about was that Benji was on his way to continue our work.

I held up a finger to Beck and pressed an intercom button on the phone in the center of the table.

“Ross?”

“Sir?”

“Can we place another order with Handelman’s?”

Beck shook his head at me as I gave our assistant my order, including Beck’s favorite, and letting Ross know he should get himself something as well.

“You are unbelievable, Ani!”

“I’ve been told,” I responded truthfully. We dropped back into our chairs, and Beck began his debrief of the board meeting.

I knew he’d let me know if he needed my input, so I started calculating figures in my head while listening tangentially. Only, my mind began to wander, and the calculations didn’t come. Instead, I found myself picturing Benji downstairs in my lab. Both of us writing frantically on smartboards, though I couldn’t see the figures in my mind. I could only see his figure, lab coat dancing as he scribbled away excitedly. I wanted to reach out to him, to envelop him, to feel that energy: to share it.

“... next round of raises. You okay with that?”

“Huh? What?” Beck just laughed at me, which was so much better than seeing him frustrated.

“I’ll email you the compensation spreadsheet. I need you to authorize the Q3 raises and the Q4 bonuses. By Friday, Ani. Let’s hit the board with those at next month’s meeting, assuming the profits keep trending like they’ve been.”

“By Friday. Got it. Don’t include me.”

“Ani …”

“Spread my bonus out amongst the ten percent of people in our lowest pay scale and up their raises.” I waited for him to fight me like he usually did. Instead, after thinking about it for a minute, he nodded.

“I’ll have Erin adjust the spreadsheet before she sends it. I still need it back by Friday. The board was in a good mood today. I want to get this to them and get it wrapped up at next month’s meeting.”

I set myself a reminder for Friday morning as I rose, heading for the exit to race toward my lab.

“Anson!” Beck yelled after me. “What about the burritos?”

“Save me one,” I called back.