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Crisis temporarily averted, I turn towards the spa employees clustered nearby, talking in stressed whispers.
“You tell him!”
“I can’t! You know what he’s like.”
I ease closer, curious. “Everything OK?” I ask. They fall silent. “I’m here to help,” I add. “For today, at least. Austin brought me in.”
They exchange quick glances. The guy speaks up, diplomatically, “The boss is, uh… Very detail-oriented.”
“He’s micromanaging everything,” the other girl blurts out. “He wants to have approval on every tiny detail, and it slows down the whole process—we can’t get anything done, and then it’s a last-minute dash! He didn’t approve the DJ until this morning, so they didn’t have time to beat the traffic, and we didn’t have a back-up. Except the intern.”
“Oh,” I reply, surprised. Austin has seemed like the picture of ease all day. “Good to know.”
They introduce themselves as Austin’s assistant, and one of the marketing team. “Please don’t tell Austin we told you this,” The marketing girl, Paloma, blurts. “He’s the greatest boss in so many ways. But he insisted on approval of every ingredient, and the chef was insulted because he sources local ingredients and availability changes daily, and so I had to do so much damage control and—”
“Paloma,” I say, calmly. “Relax. It’s OK.”
“I’m normally a very composed person,” Paloma blubbers.
“She is,” Asher agrees, loyally.
Paloma sniffs, tearful. “This morning was just chaos.”
“But it’s fine now,” I reassure her, gesturing around. Sure enough, the caterers are finally circulating trays, somebody with taste is manning the music, and everyone is enjoying the treatments as God and Austin intended. “Why don’t you go join the meditation group,” I suggest, as Paloma keeps sniffling. “Get some clarity. Breathe!”
I shoo them off to calm down, and then drift through the event, sampling the stalls and the delicious food, and chatting to some of the other employees. Now it’s all going to plan, I can see that the pop-up was a great idea. But as for those plans…
Austin finds me after an hour or so, as I’m polishing off a sample coconut smoothie—apparently healthy, but tastes like a desert-island dessert.
“So, how about it?” Austin asks, gesturing around. “You’ve gotten a glimpse of the wild ride that is the luxury spa business. And how desperately I need a genius marketing head to keep things running smoothly,” he adds, rueful. “So, will you take the job?”
I want to screamYes!But I like Austin, and I want him to succeed. And if I can’t confess the truth about my name mix-up, then at least I can do is be honest about his marketing needs.
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask.
He winces. “Why does no good conversation come after that?”
I smile. “Look, this event turned out great, and you have a fine product in the spa. I’m sure people will respond to it.”
“So why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Austin asks, running one hand over the crown of his buzz-cut.
“Maybe because there is one.” I say gently. “The truth is that you got lucky today. Social media gimmicks are all well and good, but only if you have the foundation and team to back them up. And you don’t, at least, not yet.” I hold up a flyer as evidence. “There’s nothing on here about the launch date, or a website to find out more. You’ve got top influencers posting hashtags, but half the people here couldn’t tell you where the spa is based or what the membership benefits are. I know it’s not glamorous,” I add, “But you need bread and butter basics before you slather jam on top. Or some other food metaphor,” I add with a smile. “Did I mention these smoothies are delicious?”
Austin smiles at my lame joke, but he looks thoughtful. “And you can do that?” he asks. “Bread and butter basics, to get us on a solid footing for launch?”
I pause. The irony is, I can. Basics are my strong point. But Austin doesn’t wantme. He still thinks I’m Other Jennifer Walker, and as much as it’s been fun to get a taste of her life, it’s time for me to get back to my un-luxurious, unglamorous reality—without massages, helicopter rides, and handsome men looking at me like I’m the answer to all their problems.
“I’ll think about it.” I tell him, hating myself for the lie. Am I a coward? Maybe, but I’d rather simply fade out from Austin’s fast-paced world than have to explain myself. “But either way, I know, this is going to be a huge success,” I tell him. “You’ll do great.”
And I’ll find another job, better suited to my SNZ-worthy skills.
I only wish it didn’t sting quite so much, seeing how the other half lives.
