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“Carlos, it looks like you’re the tiebreaker,” Martin said. “We have Crystal and Hailey in favor of the middle label, and Selena and Rob come in on the side of keeping the old font. It’s time for you to have an opinion.”
Carlos cleared his throat, took off his glasses and made a show of cleaning them with a cloth from his pocket. Then he put them back on, seemed to peer at the screen intently and shook his head.
“I still can’t see any difference. They look the same to me. Go with whatever the team wants.”
“If you were paying attention, you’d know it’s a split vote.”
“I realize that. If you abstain from voting it’s a stalemate. Unless we want a very long debate between the two factions about the finer points of some very similar label designs., which was only the first item on your must-do list,” Carlos pointed out, not unfairly.
“If you’re not going to register a preference, then I choose the middle design with the sans serif font. Next item,” Martin said succinctly, and Crystal and I shot each other smiles of victory.
We moved through the remaining tasks at what seemed like a snail’s pace to my loopy brain. Carlos had really strong opinions about the instrumental background for the teaser ad. Apparently, he thought using the Spanish guitar by itself was distinctive and would appeal to a more diverse demographic. Crystal favored the ‘more elegant’ piano, and I could not have cared less at that point while they argued the merits of their preferences.
“Excuse me,” I put in after several minutes of listening to the back and forth about the music. “It’s a twenty second clip. Can we just use the guitar for the younger demo and the piano for the older?”
“I like that idea,” Martin said. “Can we agree to compromise and move on?”
“Sure,” Crystal said, and Carlos nodded.
“Your music is for old people,” he joked, and she rolled her eyes. I just took a big drink of my Coke and tried not to watch the clock.
By five-thirty, we wrapped it up, and Selena and Carlos bolted for the door like there was a prize for who got there first. “Good work, everyone. Have a nice weekend. I’ll see you Monday,” Martin said, packing up his files and switching off the projector.
“My internet’s down at my apartment. Is it okay if I finish up my slide deck here?” I asked.
“No problem. I’ll let the security guys downstairs know you’re still here. They’ll make sure you get out to your car okay,” he said. I thanked him and said good night. I took out my laptop and rubbed my eyes and set to work on the assignment for my Logistical Strategies class. I was mostly through with it, but I needed to reformat some text and email it to my instructor before midnight. I’d run out of hotspot time on my data plan and the Wi-Fi in my building had gone from spotty to unreliable in the last week. I would finish my work, finish my Coke and go right home, I decided with a yawn.
It didn’t take long for me to finish up. Soon I was shoving my laptop in my bag and making sure I dropped my soda bottle and water bottle in the recycling bin. As I checked the time on my phone, I wondered how fabulous the benefit gala was where some of my coworkers were probably sipping champagne with Scott Eastwood about now. I noticed that the light in Rick’s office was on, and I decided to tap on the door and tell him thanks again for the opportunity.
He invited me in, obviously surprised to see me there.
“What are you doing here so late?” he said.
“We were late wrapping up for the teaser launch on Monday, and then Rob let me finish an assignment here using company WiFi because the service is spotty at my apartment. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to talk to Rob about not keeping you after scheduled hours because you’re still a student. This isn’t your full-time job, and he frankly had no business asking you to stay past four, which was, by my estimate, about three hours ago. Obviously, you’ll be compensated at an overtime rate.”
“I’m not worried about that. Please don’t say anything to him,” I protested. “I’m learning so much and I’m so lucky to get to be part of this. They’ve all treated me like an equal and listened to my ideas. They’ve been very patient and helpful, too. I couldn’t ask for a better situation. Also, I’m not paid by the hour. I’m on salary, or a stipend or whatever it’s called when you’re the lucky duck who got a paid internship,” I said, babbling nervously.
“Did you just say lucky duck?” he raised an eyebrow, the only indication he thought it was funny. I felt my face flush and I nodded.
“Yeah, you should learn the new slang,” I teased, “you can Google it if you don’t know what it means.”
“I’ll have to do that. You lucky duck.”
The way he dropped his voice made the words lucky duck sound sexier and fuller of wicked potential than anything I’d ever heard. I was staring at him pretty hard, making some unprofessional eyes at him. I took a step back.
“I’m just heading out. I wanted to thank you again for bringing me on,” I said.
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” he offered, and fell into step beside me down the long hall hung with beautiful abstract canvases I knew he’d commissioned from local artists.
“I love it here,” I told him, not letting myself be embarrassed about it.
“You have to stop thanking me,” he said. “I didn’t do you a favor. You earned the right to propose your concept and the client wanted you on the team. You agreed to join the project and I’m grateful that you did.”
“I did save your old butt from losing the account,” I said. Then I shut my eyes briefly in mourning for the awkward way I had just worked his butt into the conversation as well as joking probably inappropriately that I’d rescued him. The youngest self-made multimillionaire to make the 30 Under 30 list when he was still at Berkley. “I apologize,” I said, “That was out of line. I was kidding, but you’re my boss and a marketing genius. I didn’t honestly mean that I had done something you couldn’t do, and I didn’t mean to mention your ass at all. Not even once. So can we pretend this didn’t happen? Please? I swear I won’t joke about---anything. I’ll be very respectful of your talent and accomplishments --”
“You have to stop,” he groaned.
