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Quintessa to Essex: and? Does the world end after coffee is spilled?
Essex to Quintessa: more like the end of somebody’s job.
Quintessa to Essex: unbelievable…
Essex to Quintessa: what don’t you believe? I don’t pay people to smell roses all day.
Quintessa to Essex: did it cross your mind for one second that maybe the janitor was on the way to get a mop?
Essex to Quintessa: then he wasn’t moving fast enough.
Quintessa to Essex: okay, so you should’ve cleaned it up.
Essex to Quintessa: you’re a funny girl. I don’t clean my own house and you think it’s my responsibility to clean the office building?
Quintessa to Essex: I’m not talking about the whole building. I was referring to that one spot on the floor. What harm would it have done for you to go to the bathroom, grab some paper towels and wipe it up?
She doesn’t know me at all if she thinks I would do something so beneath me. When you reach a certain status in life, there are things you just don’t do anymore. Millionaires don’t do minimum wage work, and they certainly don’t mop up spills.
Essex to Quintessa: the only thing I clean is my body. Everything else is delegated.
Quintessa to Essex: All I’m saying is, you could’ve handled it more appropriately than that. Instead, you had to wield your big stick and show everybody who’s boss like they don’t already know.
Essex to Quintessa: you ain’t seen a big stick yet
Quintessa to Essex: and this is why nobody likes you…
A smile comes to my face. Somehow, she thinks it’s a bad thing not to be liked. Social media has these people trippin’ with this ‘like’ nonsense. People haven’t liked me for years. The first time I was teased – that I can remember – I was in the third grade and each year got progressively worse. It’s proof that people will hate you at all stages of your life. It doesn’t matter if you’re poor or prospering. Good or bad. Somebody, somewhere, won’t like you. I respond:
Essex to Quintessa: do you really think I care if people like me or not?
Quintessa to Essex: what happened to the guy who asked me to help him be more ‘likable’ and ‘courteous’??? Or have you forgotten about that?
Essex to Quintessa: I haven’t forgotten a thing, but in this instance, I’m right. Now, stop messaging me. I have work to do.
Quintessa to Essex: I don’t know why I thought you were serious about this whole etiquette thing, but now that I know you’re not, you won’t have to worry about me saying anything else about it, sir.
I don’t say anything more. I go about my morning. The meeting at nine goes off without a hitch. The meeting at ten was the preliminary meeting with Mr. Cruz to discuss the game plan for the merger with South Florida Financial – a small tax firm we acquired in the fourth quarter of 2021. At noon, I check messenger to see if I’ve received any further communication from Quintessa.
There’s nothing.
I imagine she’s on lunch right now with her work buddy, so I head down to the first floor specifically just to see if she’s down there.
Jackpot.
As soon as I step off the elevator, I see her. She’s with Ms. Valentine heading in my direction. I haven’t thought this all the way through so I don’t know if I should talk normally to her or maintain our business relationship while we’re here in the presence of others. Whatever I was going to do, it was interrupted by Susan Musk as she walks up to me with her food in a takeout container heading back up to her office. She says, “Well, hello there.”
“Hi,” I say, but my eyes are on Quintessa. I know she sees me, but she purposely doesn’t make eye contact with me.
Mrs. Musk says, “I saw your calendar was clear this afternoon—I was hoping I could squeeze in some one-on-one time with you to discuss a few things.”
Quintessa walks on by – doesn’t so much as glance my way. I may as well be invisible – as invisible as Mrs. Musk is to me right now.
“Sir?”
I tear my eyes from the back of Quintessa’s head and look at Mrs. Musk. The lady is getting on my nerves even more so than the time she told me she was related to Elon. Driving a Tesla and sharing a surname doesn’t give one automatic kinship to the guy, but you can’t tell her that. Right now, she’s in my way so I say, “Sure, Mrs. Musk. Have Ms. Davison set up a meeting for us this afternoon,” just to stop her from all the nagging.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
