Georgia on Her Mind(61)
“We’re the industry leader,” he says proudly. I know better, but I respect his loyalty. “It would be the perfect move for someone like you. Experienced and ready to blaze her own trail. The New York office will let the Chicago customer service director run things the way she sees fit.”
“She?” Did I impress him with my attention to detail?
“I’ll be honest. I set up this interview for my benefit.” He keeps his eyes on me as he sips his coffee.
“Oh?”
“I wanted to meet the gutsy woman in jeans who bowled over the New York team. Plus, you need to see Chicago, meet the staff, understand what a great opportunity we’re offering.”
Hmm, smoothing it on a little thick, Steve. “Always good to meet the staff,” I say.
From what I can tell, this job is mine to lose. All I have to do is be cool. I’ve heard of these things happening to other people, the ones with gold dust in their hair and golden starlight in their eyes of blue, but not me.
Steve continues, “Now that I’ve met you, I can see why they were so charmed.”
I almost glance over my shoulder to see if he’s talking to someone else. I flash an awkward grin and focus on the Chicago landscape passing by the limo window.
In a few minutes the limo driver eases to a stop in front of a glassy high-rise. He opens our door and Steve leads me inside.
The office suites are amazing, overlooking the lake on one side and the city on the other. All the offices are modern and bright with lots of windows.
I try not to twitch like a kid at Christmas, but a small “wow” escapes my lips.
Steve grins, hands on his Italian-belted waist. “It’s a nice setup.”
“Very.” I walk beside him, careful to keep that embarrassing blemish away from the unforgiving light of day.
“This would be your office.” Steve walks me into a large corner office with a polished boardroom table at one end and a matching desk and credenza at the other.
One wall is windows, and another contains floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. It’s decked out with all the amenities a director would need, including a flat screen computer monitor, leather chairs and a minifridge.
“You have your own private bath, too.” Steve motions to a room behind the desk and credenza.
I look him square in the eye and stick out my hand. “Hello, I’m Macy Moore, formerly of Casper & Company. Are you sure Myers-Smith wants me for their director?”
“I’m sure.” He smiles, shaking my hand. His hand is smooth and soft, but his grip is firm and sure. “We want a customer service director who can lead, who has experience and ideas. My guess is you’ll be running the whole customer service show from New York in a few years.”
“That would be my guess, too,” I say like a true braggadocio.
“Glad we’re on the same page.” His eyes smile.
Why not run the whole show from New York? My biggest frustration with Veronica Karpinski demoting me was not being able to lead anymore. Being in the field is honorable work, but I want to lead, be in charge and empower others. I’m born to run the show.
Steve ushers me into the office of the Chicago vice president, whom I met and interviewed with in New York.
“Nice to see you again.” I shake Paul Winter’s hand.
“We’d love to have you join us here in Chicago.” He’s all smiles.
“Me, too,” I blurt out, catching Paul cut a quick glance to Steve. Hmm, what’s that about?
Next Steve directs me through a maze of cubicles and introduces me to various people. At a corner office he leaves me alone with the lead Web developer, Sonia Larkin.
“Sit,” she says to me as if I’m a puppy.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Around my age, she’s locked in her teen Goth years. Her hair is dyed a flat black and her eyes are heavy with black eyeliner and mascara. Her lips are black, as well as her fingernails. To complete the death-warmed-over ensemble, she wears a black tank and black jeans.
I drop my pen to the floor so I can peek under her desk. As I suspected, she’s wearing black army boots.
“So, what are your responsibilities?” I hold a serious expression, but fear I sound as if I’m trying out for the pep club. All I need is pigtails and a lollipop to ensure her complete and utter disdain.
“I’m in charge of all engineering projects. I’m head of development and product design for E-Z-Web.” She resents telling me this, I can tell.
“E-Z-Web?” I jot it on a piece of paper Steve gave me earlier. Need to look knowledgeable. “What development tools do you use?”
She flops against the back of her chair, her expression asking Are you kidding me? Out loud she says, “Whatever’s best for the product—Java, C Sharp or .NET.”
“I see.” Jot some more. “What tools are provided to the service techs to help in product support?”
She hooks her upper lip. “Whatever they need.”
So goes our interview. I ask questions. She gives me stoic answers. I’m not an imbecile, but I’ll never convince Sonia.
Steve bounces into Sonia’s office twenty minutes later as if he didn’t mean to leave me with her so long.
“She’s lovely,” I say to him as he steers me to the next cubie.
“You can handle her.” He seems assured, but how does he know? I don’t know if I want to handle her. Life is just too short for dealing with the Sonia Larkins of the world.