The Girl He Used to Know(64)
“It sounds horrible.”
“It’s just the way it is.”
“What if you decided you didn’t want to do it anymore? What else could you be?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. What would you do if you decided you didn’t want to work in a library anymore?”
“I would write plays. All day long, just”—I mimic pounding on the keys. “But I can’t imagine ever leaving the library. I love it too much.”
“You’re lucky,” he says.
I shrug. “I just know I couldn’t spend my life doing something that doesn’t make me happy.”
36
Jonathan
CHICAGO
SEPTEMBER 10, 2001
“That’s not going to help us at all,” Brad says after a junior member of the team makes a suggestion that contradicts what Brad has proposed but will, in fact, help us quite a bit. Our petulant boss punctuates his statement by throwing a stack of reports across the conference room table like a child throwing a tantrum. Brad suffers from a raging case of impostor syndrome, and he’s terrified someone will discover that, most of the time, he’s talking out of his ass. But he’s what they call “good in a room,” energetic and animated, and it’s masked his overall incompetence and made him look smarter than he is. It doesn’t hurt that the solutions I generate for this team, through my own hard work, are often delivered via his big mouth, making him look like the superstar he only wishes he could be.
The whole team is catching the last flight to New York tonight so we can be sitting in our seats in a conference room by eight thirty tomorrow morning to give our presentation and, even more important, dazzle our clients. Unfortunately, we’re not adequately prepared, which is why our fearless leader is in such a rotten mood. During our last five-minute break, I ducked into my office, shut the door, and called Annika.
“Don’t expect me tonight. Things are not going well and there’s no way I can break away to meet you for dinner. I’m sorry.”
“But then how will you eat?” It kills me that Annika’s focus is on whether or not I’ll be able to feed myself.
“I don’t know. Brad usually has dinner brought in, but he decided not to order anything because he didn’t want us to be distracted by the food. The way things are going I can tell you right now that none of us will be leaving until we have no choice because we have to head for the airport. I’ll eat something there.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Annika says.
“It’s okay.” Really, dinner is the last of my worries at this point. Brad has hinted repeatedly that my contributions and performance in New York will be directly tied to the likelihood of me being named director of the division, which is only one step below his position. There are three of us gunning for the job, and Brad has been wielding his decision-making power like the most giant of tyrants. Lots of musing out loud about our strengths and weaknesses, but with a hint of uncertainty sprinkled in to keep us guessing. I hate pandering to him, but I want this job and he knows it. Brad might be more surprised if he knew what I really wanted, which is his job. This department would flourish under the leadership of someone who cared more about making smart decisions for the company than making sure everyone knew how much power he had.
Brad’s extra cranked up tonight because while we’re in New York, he’ll be attending meetings with his boss and he’s panicking. He’ll have to navigate those on his own, and I’m sure he’s worried about being able to think on his feet without the rest of us there to feed him the information.
“I’ve gotta go,” I tell Annika after glancing at my watch. I’ve been gone for five minutes and if I’m the last one back in my seat, I’d better have a good reason why, and talking to my girlfriend on the phone will not be an acceptable option. “I’ll call you from the airport.”
“Okay, bye.”
Somehow, I get lucky, because when I return to the conference room, everyone is in their seats, but Brad is nowhere to be found. Brian, who is also up for the promotion, leans over and whispers, “Heard he’s on the phone with his wife. Kid’s got pinkeye or something.”
Brad comes back into the room five minutes later, red-faced and a little flustered. We’re really cutting it close with this presentation, and the result is starting to show on his face. Over the next hour, we provide enough viable options and solid research for Brad to cobble together a halfway-decent pitch. We lean back in our chairs. Push our legal pads toward the center of the table.
We’re all a little punch-drunk and exhausted from the late nights and seven-day work weeks, and when I catch of glimpse of Annika outside the conference room’s glass walls, I do a double take to make sure I’m not hallucinating. She’s smiling and holding a take-out bag from Dominick’s. She spots me and waves enthusiastically. I wave back, but before I can excuse myself and intercept her out in the hall, she pushes open the door. Every man at that table turns to look at her, and boy is she a sight for sore eyes with her big smile and her swinging ponytail as she bounces into the room. I have no idea how she managed to get past the security guard and into the building, and I don’t care. The almost childlike glee on her face is the only thing that’s put a smile on mine all day.