Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Andrew
I don’t know much about nonprofit organizations aside from the obvious “not for profit” implication from the wording.
I’ve worked various jobs since I was seventeen, and most were usually in some way or form an extension of corporate America.
Of course, there was the exception of a small family-owned pet store I worked at the summer after my freshman year of college.
Sitting in the simple waiting area of The Hope Foundation, I quickly glance over the email on my phone. It’s from Olive with the subject line WHERE ARE YOU? I can practically hear her urgent voice through the screen.
Mr. Sheridan is looking for you. I told him you’re stuck in traffic. Hurry back!
I sent an email to HR this morning saying I’d be taking a long lunch, and I’d like to use some of my personal hours to cover it, the usual policy when we need any time off, even if it’s just a few hours during the day.
I probably should’ve cc’d Mr. Sheridan, but I didn’t want to add another reason for me to rescind my appointment with Thad at The Hope Foundation.
I’d barely convinced myself to take the meeting.
I tap out a quick message, letting her know I’ll be another hour or so. All while the heel of my foot bounces off the carpeted floor. Hopefully the vein on his neck won’t burst through his skin by the time I get back.
My phone buzzes in my hand with another alert.
This time, it’s a message from Grace. In the message, there’s a picture of her lunch.
A lunch I packed for her. It’s a grilled cheese sandwich, wrapped in parchment paper to minimize any sogginess with an individual serving of minestrone.
Under the image, there’s a quick message accompanying it.
Grace
Thank you for lunch.
I never brought up this meeting to her. I knew she’d be excited for me, possibly jumping to all the outcomes where I can finally leave my current job and getting both of our hopes up.
The thing is, I’m not expecting much from this.
It isn’t a job interview, per se. It’s more of a meeting to learn the ins and outs of the nonprofit business.
See if it’s a good fit for something I can pursue in the future.
It’s nothing more than some delving and inquiry that’ll all probably amount to nothing.
I respond with a hasty ‘Y’ and ‘W’ with a kissy face emoji, just as I notice a man with dark curly hair and thick-rimmed glasses walk up to the glass doors leading to the waiting area. I quickly tuck my phone away, and as soon as he opens the doors, he greets me with a smile.
“Andrew?”
I stand from my seat. “Yes, hi.” I extend my hand, and he offers a firm handshake.
“I’m Thaddeus,” he says, warmly introducing himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” he assures. “We’re going to meet in the conference room. My office is a mess right now, and I don’t think there’s a place to sit beside my chair and the floor.”
I chuckle, followed by an unimposing, “No worries.” I follow his lead, and we veer down a hallway.
The office bustles with amicable chatter and the occasional outbursts of laughs inside a thicket of cubicles.
It’s a setup similar to Sentry Investments, but there’s a milder, more carefree air to it.
People aren’t tense and bitter. They look happy to be at work.
We enter the conference room, and I settle into one of the many seats surrounding a large oblong table. Thad starts with his fingers linked in front of him. “So, did Josh go over what we do here?”
“A little bit,” I answer. “But I did some of my own research. It looks like you connect people with higher medical needs with state resources so they can take advantage of those services. There were some things I’m not familiar with, but it looks like you connect a lot of your members to services they might not be aware of or have immediate access to. ”
Thad nods along, patiently waiting for me to finish. “Yeah, it’s a little more complex than that when you get into the details, but you summed it up nicely. Do you have any questions?”
“Maybe just the financing needs on your end,” I answer. “I guess I just want to know how finance personnel would fit into your day to day.”
“Of course. So, we’re still a fairly small organization, but we’re growing fast. The vice president who oversees the care management team handled all the finances because he has a background in accounting.
But it’s getting to be a bit much, so we’re looking to have a finance manager on board.
We still have to get it approved by the board, which is why there’s no official job posting, but a lot of the leadership staff is open to it.
We need someone who knows what they’re doing to step in and help us.
We need to make sure we’re using our resources efficiently.
We want to be able to speak for all our costs and budget, and we feel having someone with a background in finance can help with that. ”
“I see,” I say. I take in all the information he gives me. It’s a lot, but very informative. A small glimpse into the world of nonprofit organizations.
“Can I ask, how extensive is your experience in finance?”
I sit up straighter, a force of habit when talking about myself.
An unboastful attempt to sell myself. “I’ve been at Sentry Investments for about five years.
I started right after grad school. I handle a lot of the budgeting and planning throughout the fiscal year.
I haven’t quite made the transition to the investment side with advising clients, but I’m hoping a promotion will help with that. ”
“You’ve been there five years? And they haven’t promoted you?”
I smile, though all I want to do is exhale a frustrated sigh. “Things are a little complicated with my boss.”
Thad hums thoughtfully. “Well, it sounds like you have a good amount of experience for what we’re looking for. I know I said we aren’t hiring yet, but I can hold on to your résumé for when the board comes to a decision.”
“Sure.” That sounds reasonable. I don’t know if I’m ready to completely walk away from a job I put so much time into, and I guess this will give me some time to do my own due diligence. I can gradually prepare myself and take new work opportunities in stride.
“There was another reason I asked Josh to have you reach out to me,” Thad adds. “We have volunteer opportunities as well as internships. We don’t currently have one for a finance department, but if you’re willing to take an internship-type of position, I may be able to swing that.
“It doesn’t have to be full time, just a few hours a week. Whatever you’re able to commit to. And if the board sees that someone with your experience can help smooth out some of the kinks we have, they may be more inclined to open up a position.”
“And this internship. Is it…”
“It would be unpaid, unfortunately. So I understand if it’s not for you.”
“No, I think the experience in itself would be good,” I admit. It’s the truth. In turn, I may find that this is the kind of work I’m meant to be doing. “Is it okay if I think about it?”
“Absolutely,” he assures earnestly. “I still have to run the internship position by the CEO and vice president, so I’ll keep you updated, but I hope you really do consider joining us in some way or form. Josh spoke highly of you.”
“Well, he is my brother, so…” I say matter-of-factly.
“Of course, but he spoke on your experience and the current place you’re at. I’m sure we can provide a less hostile working environment.”
I duck my head, letting a nervous chuckle dissolve some of the unease talking about my boss. “Thank you. I appreciate your consideration.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
When I get back to work, I brace myself for the wrath of Mr. Sheridan. I know it’s coming the second I’m welcomed by Olive’s panic-stricken face.
“Where the hell were you?” she hisses as soon as she sees me walk in.
“I had an appointment,” I answer, some of the urgency in her voice carrying into mine. “What did you—”
“Andrew!”
Both my head and Olive’s whip in the direction of Mr. Sheridan’s office. He’s standing there, his fists braced against his hips with an irate scowl stamped on his face. He strides toward me, the purposeful steps of his loafers pounding on the carpeted floor as he comes within inches of my face.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“I had an appointment, sir.”
“And was this approved? I didn’t see it on the calendar.” He glowers at me, though with his height standing at about six inches below mine, it doesn’t look as commanding as I’m sure he hopes it does.
“HR approved it,” I explain. “They may have not added it to your calendar, but I let Olive know on my way out.”
He looks to Olive for confirmation, to which she offers a slow, tentative nod. “He told me this morning,” she says meekly.
“I thought you didn’t know where he was.”
“I forgot.”
“Was there something you needed from me?” I interject, pushing aside this unwarranted investigation. With how many hours I put into this place on a daily basis, working way beyond my required hours, I’m sure an hour away shouldn’t warrant any reprimand.
“I wanted some coffee after lunch. I had to send Olive, but I have something I need you to take care of in my office.”
“Of course.”
It’s a small price to pay for my little hiccup.
A punishment as if I’d committed a crime.
I follow his steps into his office and find a banker’s box filled with a heap of receipts.
Some of them are worn, the text rubbed off and barely decipherable, and some are torn in half, practically trash at this point.
“Go through these and sort them by date,” he demands.
“I have two more boxes in the conference room once you’re through with those.
” Mr. Sheridan slumps onto his chair and types away at his laptop screen as if I’m not even there.
I hear him answer his phone with an elated greeting—a grating guffaw—and he leans back with his feet kicked up on his desk.
Whatever infuriated tone he aimed at me is swiped away now that things are as they should be.
Me, his little lackey, and him, the corporate version of the evil stepmother.
I almost ask him if he has another bag of Sour Patch Kids he’d rather have me divvy up by flavor before picking up the box and trudging over to my cubicle. Maybe an unpaid internship wouldn’t be so bad. Anything to get me out of this snake pit and the slithering scumbag I work for.