Chapter 5 In the Vice Principal’s Office
IN THE VICE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE
Where have you traveled?
Bridget: I’ve been to a few countries in Europe on business.
Cole: I’ve visited twenty-five countries across six continents.
brIDGET
Sitting in Stan’s guest chair, I felt even smaller than my 5 feet 1 inch. His space gave vice-principal’s-office vibes with the low chair and its hard cushion. He glared first at me, then at Cole over his half-rim reading glasses as he held open a file folder. It had a lot of pages in it.
Was that all documentation of our spats over the past eleven months?
Did we have a permanent record? I half-wondered if a paddle was concealed in his credenza, like the one that hung on the wall behind Sister Mary Catherine’s desk.
Not that I’d ever been to the vice principal’s office.
I was president and most senior member of the (sadly, purely metaphorical) good-girls’ club in school. My underarms were sticky.
“Look.” I held out my hands. “I said I’m sorry. I don’t understand why further disciplinary action is needed.”
All I’d done was raise my voice a teeny bit and say “goddamn.” Plus, I’d done it in the privacy of my—our—office. John’s open-air fucks used to echo through the hallways of the building. Obviously, he was a man.
Cole shrugged. “I’m not planning on lodging a complaint.”
I glared at him. Like he had a leg to stand on. He was as guilty as I was. My blood still simmered from that deal he’d brokered without consulting me.
“You’re both being disciplined,” Stan said, “for your frequent public disagreements. Though only Bridget will need to complete the online anger management course.”
I popped to my feet. “What?”
Stan’s white eyebrows lifted.
“Fine,” I huffed, flopping back onto the hard chair. “I’ll take the damn—I mean, darn anger management class.”
“Are you both familiar with the Tuckman model of team development?” he asked.
“Of course.” I sat up straighter, thankful I’d taken that management training course when I’d been promoted to VP.
“Standard MBA organizational behavior curriculum,” Cole said, smug as always.
He always had to throw his postgraduate degree in my face.
Frustratingly, I couldn’t throw my additional ten years’ experience in his because that wasn’t how being a woman in corporate America worked.
If I did, they’d call me old. Used up. Ready for retirement, or at least a role out of the spotlight.
“Clearly, you two are in your storming phase,” Stan said smugly. “You need to move on to norming, then as quickly as possible to performing. And I think the best way to do that is a corporate retreat.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. It wasn’t a terrible idea. With a little creativity, I could combine it with my office tour concept.
“Hell, Stan,” Cole said, “you think a couple rounds of golf and some trust falls are going to solve this?” He gestured between himself and me.
“I one hundred percent will let you land on your ass in a trust fall,” I muttered.
“See?” He spread his arms. “The board set up this conflict when they told us we had to prove ourselves. No retreat is going to resolve it. Only getting to the end of the trial period will.”
“I don’t believe that, Cole,” Stan said. “I have faith in you two, and in your leadership team. We’re going on a retreat.”
“Okay,” I said.
Cole’s head whipped around so fast a few of his dark locks almost fell out of place.
“Are you serious?” he asked. “I’ve been on my share of corporate retreats.
There’s a campground and dirt and sleeping on bedbug-infested mattresses.
You”—he scanned me from my bun to my heels—“wouldn’t survive thirty minutes. ”
“I’ve been camping plenty of times.” It was the only type of vacation my family of seven could afford when I was a kid. I straightened in the uncomfortable chair.
“Hold on,” Stan said. “We’re not going to summer camp. More like Palm Springs.”
Cole was already nodding, but I had a better idea. “Wait. We can combine it with our site visit to Costa Rica. They have a lovely corporate retreat center less than an hour away in the rainforest. John used to take his team there. Did you ever go, Stan?”
“Once,” he said. “You’re right. It’s gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous sounds expensive.” Cole tilted his head. “Is it fiscally responsible?”
“The board allocated funds for teambuilding in case of this…eventuality,” Stan said.
“Excellent. I bet Costa Rica is cheaper than Palm Springs, even with the airfare, Mr. Fiscally Responsible.” I rubbed my no-longer-sweaty palms together.
Once Cole met the competent team in the San José office, once he saw them as human beings, even his stony heart would soften, and he’d hesitate to replace them with his team in India.
“I’ll have Finley check availability for next month. ”
“Nothing about this sounds excellent,” Cole grumbled.
What about a company-paid trip to a four-star resort in Costa Rica didn’t sound excellent? I frowned at him. Was this because I’d reined in his runaway plan?
“Come on, Cole,” I said. “Where’s your spirit of adventure?”