3. Who’s the real G.O.A.T.?
3
WHO’S THE REAL G.O.A.T.?
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Goats are the G.O.A.T.
You can’t be serious. There’s no way that’s a real thing. This video is definitely doctored or something. It’s got to be AI.
- Will
I giggle on my bed as Ginger sleeps peacefully beside me, twisted on her back with her paws in the air. Though I shake the mattress with my laughter, she barely acknowledges my existence.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Goats are the G.O.A.T.
I am telling you, goat yoga is a real thing. Baby goat yoga is even better. I’ve done it before.
- Bridget
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Goats are the G.O.A.T.
I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to call bullshit, here. Where would you even do it in NYC? Where do people keep livestock here? I work out often and I have never heard of “goat yoga.” Hot yoga, yes. Never any type of farm animal yoga.
- Will
I snort as I re-read his words, focusing on the part where he admits to working out often. Immediately, my mind drifts to wondering what Will, this man I’ve been speaking to only via email, looks like. I’ve tried not to. Tried to not think about his build or hair color, stopped myself several times from looking up his socials (besides that one time I tried searching for his LinkedIn) or asking Lena if she’s met him by chance at client meetings. And I’ve been surprisingly successful at keeping myself in check. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like finding out what he looks like would shatter part of whatever spell exists between us in this odd friendship. Like I’d be losing an anonymous confidant and ruining it with a real life person.
But then I wonder whether he’s secretly an evil demon on the other end of my emails, like that one episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in season one when that green guy tries to get out of the computer in order to take over the world. Part of me wants to make sure I’m not responsible for bringing about the end of civilization as we know it. (Hey, it can happen. You never know.)
So yeah, my mind has gotten away from me sometimes in an uncharacteristically negative way, but it isn’t often. For the most part, talking to Will has mostly been so much fun . So I get ahead of myself and start imagining other things. Good things. This usually happens when I learn something brand new about him. Like just now: he says he goes to the gym and does it often. Does that mean that he’s a The Rock type of gym-goer, built large and hard? Or is he just in shape? And that’s even if he’s being honest about the frequency with which he attends, because I’m always conscious of the fact that this man could be the world’s biggest liar. He could be telling me exactly what I want to hear. He could be a serial killer or something.
And yet… I still can’t kick the habit of speaking to him. I wouldn’t care what he looks like. Not if he’s still the guy he is in our interactions.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Goats are the G.O.A.T.
One thing you should know about me is that I never tell a lie.
- Bridget
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Goats are the G.O.A.T.
Fine. I’m sure it would probably smell the entire time, but I guess you’re gonna have to take me there yourself, then. I gotta see it to believe it.
- Will
My whole body tenses as I read and reread the words in his email. He wants to meet? Like… in person? Like… face-to-face? Or was that just an expression?
I can’t be too surprised, though, right? I mean, we were probably going to meet anyways. Our paths are bound to cross any day now, given our work. It’s just a matter of time until Lena decides I’m ready to go to an in-person client meeting or the same happens for Will. From what he tells me, we both work for difficult bosses (although I’m not quite sure yet who his exact supervisor is). Neither one of them are the easiest people to get along with. Still, it won’t be long until we’re in the same room at the same time, and after weeks of talking, it might be weird if our first interaction is in front of other people. Especially since things have turned a little flirty.
Or maybe it’s just my imagination. Even a bit of wishful thinking, if I’m being honest with myself.
I chew on my bottom lip, fingers hovering over my phone screen, searching not only for the right words, but for what I truly want from this friendship. Should I carpe the hell out of this diem or keep this distance and let our relationship progress professionally? Or is this the natural progression of it all?
Just as I click into the message box to reply, however, my phone buzzes again. This time with a text from Lena.
Lena
Need you in the office ASAP. And get me two extra hot flat whites and a warmed coffee cake.
Phew . Saved by Crazy Pants.
* * *
“I can’t have you lose focus on the Stevenson account, Bridget. I know you’re just an associate, but you do perform vital tasks to this project.” Lena sits behind her desk, arms folded in front of her, her eyes pinning me to my seat. “I know we started off slow, working what some would call reasonable hours. But things are getting choppy with the client. This is our first season ever with them, and if things don’t go to plan, we might lose them altogether.”
I suppress a sigh because I know what she’s telling me: no more of that same work/life balance I was just thanking my lucky stars for. And while that may suck, in its own way, it’s actually amazing. It means Lena needs me. It means that she’s going to be giving me more responsibility. I shouldn’t be surprised, to be honest. After all, she did start including me in the emails. Like she said, I perform vital tasks. I am an essential member of the team. I need to be on call to bring her food when she needs it.
Sigh.
“I’m going to need you to be flexible about hours; I’ll need you to get my coffee and lunches most days since I’ll be stuck to my chair, working. Of course, you’ll have to continue handling my calendar and scheduling.”
“Oh,” I say, deflating a bit. I already perform those duties as an assistant sometimes, but is she referring to doing them all the time? “I thought…” But I trail off, not knowing how to proceed.
She raises a brow. “You thought what, exactly?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just… I thought you needed me to be more involved in a direct way.”
Lena purses her lips and sits back in her chair. “And what exactly do you think you’d be able to bring to the table, Bridget? Besides the past three months of work you’ve done here, you have no experience whatsoever doing this kind of work. Frankly, we hired you in a moment of desperation because I needed an assistant quickly as the Stevenson account was fast-approaching and your friend Molly gave you a personal referral. Right now, you’re nothing more than a blank slate. You will have zero input on anything. Your job is to keep me informed and the other teams in line.”
I try to control the stinging behind my eyes, tears threatening to make a very unwelcome appearance. Something about Lena tells me that she wouldn’t take too well to someone crying in her office (though the same instinct tells me she’s no stranger to it, either).
In a surprising turn of events, however, Lena’s eyes soften—infinitesimally, but still. “You’re not young young, but you are green. New to this industry. I can’t trust you yet. You haven’t done anything to prove that I can. And this project is too risky for me to let you take on any big responsibilities on a leap of faith. Can you understand that?”
I press my lips together and nod, too scared to open my mouth and say something for fear of letting her hear my voice break. With a nod toward her office door, she dismisses me.
I dash through the office floor, looking for somewhere to hide so I can break down where no one can see me. The bathrooms would be a logical choice, but the risk of someone finding me mid-breakdown is too high.
On a whim, I decide to spend the next few minutes of my work day crying in the sample closet—a nice, dark place filled with awesome clothes, each one so beautiful it helps to settle my nerves.
I sit in the corner of the walk-in, hidden behind a rack of ballgowns, and put my face in my hands as I cry. I consider texting Molly to ask her to meet me back here so I can vent, but she’s made it clear that she doesn’t trust my ability to keep this job—at least not 100%. Just like Lena.
For a moment, I allow myself to be sad, to absorb the situation. I’m gutted I got my hopes up thinking Lena was opening the door for me to receive more responsibilities, to give me more autonomy over certain duties that fall under my role, but at least I still have a job. I’ve never held one down this long, and for that, I need to be thankful. And she just told me what I needed in order to get to where I want: earn her trust; prove my worth. So I’m sure I can get there.
When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I pull it out immediately praying for a positive distraction.
From: [email protected]
Subject: A case of the Tuesdays
A hint of a smile plays at my lips as I sniffle, his name on my screen instantly making me feel better. Without giving it another thought, I open Will’s email as I sit in the corner of the sample closet, in the dark, hidden behind pounds of luxurious, responsibly manufactured, materials.
From: [email protected]
Subject: A case of the Tuesdays
Dear Bridge,
I’m currently writing this email while in a “very important” meeting. I’m supposed to be taking notes, but I swear to god I cannot stand another minute of having the same conversations over and over again. My brain is fried and my soul close to being wiped out so I figured I’d do something I enjoy and email you, my friend (pen pal? Vendor? Who knows), and tell you all about my day instead.
I can vent to you, can’t I, Bridge?
Anyway. Here goes:
I hate Tuesdays. I hate Tuesdays with a passion. And I know what you’re going to say: “Don’t you mean Mondays?” And I will wholeheartedly reply with a “hell no.”
Mondays are glorious days that offer us a fresh start. The opportunity to start the week off better than we did the one before—an unlikely POV that someone as negative as myself would have. But it’s true, nonetheless. I love Mondays because they’re all about starting off strong.
Tuesdays, however… Tuesdays have a nasty habit of knocking all the optimism you gathered on Monday right out of you if you’re not careful. You started the week off the day before by making a plan, organizing yourself, only to have Tuesday meetings pop up to fuck up your life. Why are Tuesday meetings almost always filled with bad news? Granted, it’s not every time, but when they are, it’s disheartening.
Like today’s most recent meeting—the one I’m currently in—where our finance department is making what I believe are really dumb fucking decisions, but I can’t say anything about it because I answer to some all powerful force here that will not take my disagreeing with him too kindly. Retaliation tends to be the name of the game around these parts of town, and I don’t consider myself to be a masochist—or a sadist for that matter.
(Not that I kink shame. We all have our thing . I’d ask you what yours is, but not sure if we’re at that point in our friendship yet. Do let me know when we are, though.)
So, here I am. About to lose my mind as I see a group of people make decisions that are best for themselves and not our consumer or shareholders, and I can’t do anything about it. All I can do is channel my new friend Bridget and try to find the good—that silver lining—which is that today is one less day I have to work at this damn company. And hopefully next Monday will set the tone for a better week.
Tell me about your day. It’s bound to be better than mine.
- Will
PS. Will accept any other cute goat or animal videos you have that may cheer me up. :)
A wet laugh bursts through me as I scroll through his message once again. Maybe a cute animal video will cheer the both of us up.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: A case of the Tuesdays
Will,
How irresponsible of you to fake work! I’m appalled (LOL). If only I could do the same.
I’m honored, however, that you’ve been thinking of channeling me today—I keep telling you that focusing on the bright side will make you a happier person. Manifest the life you want! It hasn’t fully worked for me yet, but I’m hopeful. Plus, life could be way worse! Focusing on the silver lining sometimes is the best way to keep going when things are hard.
In the spirit of remaining positive, today has been interesting . There’s a growth opportunity at work, so that’s good! Also, I wore my new (old) vintage dress that I found on eBay to work today and felt like a million bucks! If a million bucks were a cashmere dress from the seventies with a high, yet still professional, slit and a flared collar that cost me $25. It had a few snags, but I managed to sew them up and revamped it with some delicate beading and it looks great.
So you can see, all good things.
And as requested, here’s a link to another video—this one’s about a German shepherd and a black cat and how they travel all over the world camping in these amazing places with their human parents and are best friends who cuddle in the woods and stuff.
- Bridget
Once I hit send, I stand, run my fingers through my hair, and wipe the tears from my cheeks. Time to head out to the bathroom and get myself cleaned up before going back to work. But as I reach for the door, my phone vibrates once more.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: A case of the Tuesdays
What’s wrong? Are you okay? What does ‘ interesting ’ mean, exactly?
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: A case of the Tuesdays
Everything’s fine, I swear! Just tired. Your team is apparently turning up the heat, so my boss is stressing a bit. She’s so scared of losing this contract. Not sure why, since she won’t tell me much, and I’m sure you don’t know either, being part of the finance team. But it looks like there’s some tension between our two companies.
Anyway, Lena’s getting a lot of pushback from you guys, apparently. She made the sourcing team work until late last night so that they could have a call with our overseas suppliers and negotiate a lower cost of materials. No one thought she’d be able to, and everyone was hating on her behind her back for making them stay late, but she got it done.
Anyway, she’s been extra stressed and I guess taking it out on me.
Not gonna lie, Will. Your bosses are proving to be impossible to please. We’re getting you everything you ask for, but pricing never seems to be good enough.
(And this is the last I’ll go into semi-detail, btw. I would never want us to cross that line. I like this friendship we’ve got going for us.)
- Bridget
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: A case of the Tuesdays
Yeah, I heard something along those lines with regards to pricing… But I promise I won’t say anything more. I agree—let’s be careful about what we share regarding work. This odd thing we have going for us? There’s not a thing I would do to ruin it. I enjoy talking to you too much.
- Will
My heart flutters in my throat as I read and reread the last two sentences of his email. As soon as it does, I push it back down because what am I thinking? A pen pal relationship with someone I have a cool connection with is fine. But having a crush on a literal stranger who could be anyone? Nope, that definitely isn’t cool.
Still, I can’t help my reply:
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: A case of the Tuesdays
I enjoy talking to you, too. A lot.
We don’t talk again until the following day, the longest we’ve gone without speaking.