Up & Out - Ariella Papa [29]
“Delores Wagner. I am your new—” she hesitates, and I bend a little lower to hear what she is going to say. She finally settles on two words. “Creative Director.”
She is my new boss. I’m not intimidated because she is about four foot eleven. She has dark brown wavy hair with no particular style. I smile. “Oh, you’re the new Hackett.”
“Delores Wagner,” she says again. I notice she doesn’t really open her mouth when she speaks.
“Right, nice to meet you. I’m Rebecca Cole—” I, too, hesitate, then add, “the creator of Esme.”
She nods. I hated to be that kind of girl, you know the kind, the wear-my-résumé-on-my-sleeve kind, but somehow I think it is the right thing to do.
“So you work for Indiana Mutual?”
“We all do.”
“Right, but I meant—” she is already being condescending, but she is new and I am optimistic “—is that where you came from?”
“In production, yes. I created all the international advertising. I promoted the ads throughout the world. I am quite fluent in production.” Talk about wearing your résumé on your sleeve.
“So you came from Indiana?”
“The international headquarters are in Germany.” The banking industry is all new for me, but she speaks like I am a fool for not knowing where the headquarters are.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, realizing our get-to-know-you meeting might be better in my office instead of the hall.
“You’ll want to meet with me later to go over the work you’ve done so far.” I will? “Right now I have a meeting with Joe Leissle.”
He’s one of the new big shots. I’m not sure what exactly he does or where he has come from or what havoc he is certain to wreak in my life, but I notice that Delores said his name with a combination of reverence and name-dropping attitude.
“Okay,” I say. “Do you want to grab lunch?”
“Thank you, but no. I have a working lunch with Claire and some others in Programming to go over our plan of attack for the new season.”
“Should I be in on that?”
“That’s not necessary. It’s imperative that I meet them to get buttoned up.” Oh, she works the office lingo, too. I am losing patience and I have too much to do to play games.
“So, okay, when do you want to meet?”
“Are you going to be here until six?” I am usually here much later than that.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s meet at six.” Now, one could argue that I said I was going to be here until six not past six, but I am a mere cog in the wheel.
“Great,” I say.
“You’ll want to bring me a thorough report of the progress you’re making on Esme and a complete production calendar.” Is that so?
“Great,” I repeat, trying to smile.
I go back into my office and shut the door. It is too soon to make judgments. I have to just work. My phone rings.
“Re, can you meet for lunch today?” Kathy.
“Oh, Kathy, I’m so busy. Can we do it later in the week?”
“Come on, I’ll come to you,” she says. Kathy works a few avenues over and we always say we are going to have lunch more, but our schedules never seem to coincide.
“I am so swamped.”
“We can just go to Prêt. It’ll be quick. I promise. I really want to talk to you.” She sounds desperate. It’s almost eleven. If I work for a solid two hours I could meet her for about twenty minutes. I probably should stay to show my new boss what a good worker I am, but I should also set some parameters—like, I won’t eat lunch at my desk every day….
“Okay, but I won’t have much time. I’ll meet you at one.”
At 1:12 I show up at Prêt à Manger. It’s gourmet fast food; you pick from a variety of fresh sandwiches and salads. Everything is very bright and clean. Kathy is waiting for me on one of the stools, her jacket over another.
“I’m so sorry. I have a new boss.” It’s a lame excuse, I just lost track of time. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I had to fight off some people for this seat. I got you a coronation chicken sandwich and an iced tea.” I smile. Fresh iced tea means summer is on the way. It was really sweet of her. I am the worst friend and I feel even worse for being