10. Can someone get this knife out of my back? It’s really uncomfortable
10
CAN SOMEONE GET THIS KNIFE OUT OF MY BACK? IT’S REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE
M ost of the work day has gone by the same way it had every other day: running early morning sales and shipping reports, checking in with production statuses and asking design for updates. Not to mention carefully crafting and replying to emails to the correct people (I doubt every accidental unprofessional email etiquette interaction will end as happily as establishing a pen pal friendship as it did with Will, so I’ve been really careful with that lately).
Thankfully, after almost four months at Sartoria, I seem to have finally slipped into an easy routine. Of course, it’s not without its ups and downs; there’s always some issue with a factory or material vendor, or a human error when inputting numbers into our system that needs mending. But it isn’t boring work—more of a DIY project on a macro level (i.e. trust the process, as they say). It’s fun and requires major problem-solving at times, requires a certain ability to properly pivot when things go wrong—but that’s what makes it great; it’s like a game.
I’m in love with my job. Though I think I might be more in love with what it could become.
When the meeting with Stevenson is fast approaching, I’m disappointed Lena never brings up my proposal. I handed it over to her two weeks ago and have heard nothing, meaning we’re going into this meeting with our original plan—which, in my opinion, is the wrong thing to do. Worst of all, now that we’re being joined by the CEO and the VP, everything has to be perfect. Going into the meeting, it was already clear to me, though, that there would be issues. After all, Will had told me this morning that their team still had concerns with the pricing we’d quoted.
As a Hail Mary, I decide to address Lena’s lack of response to my proposal minutes before the meeting, just as we’re finishing setting up the showroom.
“Lena, were you able to double-check the numbers and research on my proposal?” I ask her, my voice barely a squeak. I should probably work on that whole confidence thing.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten back to you,” she says with a sigh. “I presented the proposal to Jenna—I thought it was that good—but she said she wasn’t interested in changing our strategy. I pushed her, and she promised she’d think about it, but that’s just her way of saying no.” Lena pats me on the shoulder. “It was a good idea, though. A very good idea, actually. Kinda jealous that after twelve years of me working here I didn’t even see it.”
“Right,” I say with a sad nod.
“This is good, though. It shows you’ve got good instincts and you showed amazing initiative. You’ve also shown me I can trust you with more.” Lena gives me a rare smile and my chest fills with pride.
But you can’t live off of just pride in a job well done in life, can you?
* * *
“Fantastic. Truly fantastic,” Iris, the Chief Merchandising Officer of Stevenson, says. “I love the updates to the collection. Looks even better in person.”
Our head of design sits in the meeting, smiling proudly at the compliments.
“This is exactly why I wanted to come to look at them in person. Because unfortunately,” Iris continues, “we still have several concerns surrounding pricing. Maybe we should pick another material, one that costs less, if we’re going to keep our planned MSRP?”
Our CEO, Sascha, gets to her feet and pulls down a suede leather jacket from one of the racks in the showroom. “Iris, feel this leather. Feel it. In fact, slip the sample on. This isn’t some second-rate brand where we skimp on materials just to increase our margin. That’s not what we want to be known for as a private label company, and it’s not what you should be known for, either. You should not be charging this high an MSRP for a jacket with lower material because you want a higher margin and think you can justify it because it has the company name on it. On the contrary, you should be living up to said name, making people happy they spent this money on a great quality jacket from a well-known brand. You and I both know what brand loyalty is, and this is how you both build and keep it. Don’t be like so many other fashion houses who have begun to inflate their prices and drop their quality just to make more money. Yes, this is business, but let’s maintain some sort of integrity, yes?”
Whoa .
Iris slips on the item of clothing and runs her fingers over the soft, chocolate material—a moto jacket perfect for fall. A deep sigh bursts through her lips. “You know I still have young Liam to deal with. Ever since he joined the company a few years ago, we’ve been fighting with vendors left and right, Iris. We can’t budge in this regard.”
Our CEO nods thoughtfully. “I understand it’s his family’s company he’s trying to protect, but that’s my whole point. You should tell him that, unless he becomes more flexible, it will be his fault he ruins his family company’s reputation. Does he want to be another joke of a nepobaby? One who runs the company into the ground? Or does he want to show the world he’s capable of running a multimillion dollar company despite just having it handed to him?”
Iris shoots her a look, and for a second I almost gasp. Sascha and Iris must have a close relationship if our CEO feels comfortable enough to insult their company’s leadership.
“Well, he’s not all bad—he’s actually quite smart. But I agree with you. The boy needs to learn. I’ll have to bring this up to him for the third time—you know that, don’t you?” Iris shoots Sascha a look.
“I don’t mean to pressure you, but we have until tonight before we need to submit the orders to our factories. To secure the materials and the space for production,” Lena breaks into the conversation. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time to go back and forth on final numbers.”
This I know for a fact, is not necessarily true. Because of situations just like this one, we often pad our due dates by a week or two, meaning Stevenson actually has until next Wednesday to give us final numbers. We make the client feel good by telling them we’re making “an exception,” but the truth is we always schedule them farther out than projected. It’s a white lie I’m not fully comfortable with.
“You know what? I think I have an idea for how to reduce production costs,” Jenna finally speaks up, taking a matching suede skirt from the rack, inspecting it closely. “It’s a bit out there because it will require a lot of coordination with our vendors and such, but I think if we work with our factories, we can figure out how to make our die cutting process more efficient so as to use every available bit of material possible, as well as buy up the same material other customers use at a discounted price for our own use. It would also help us in our mission of keeping our production as sustainable as possible.” Jenna pulls a folder that looks suspiciously like the one I gave to Lena last week and hands it over to Sascha.
My stomach drops, blood runs cold.
There is no way. No fucking way.
“That sounds interesting, Jenna.” Sascha smiles, pleasantly surprised. “And you’ve spoken to the factories about this? They’re willing to facilitate these sales and adjust their processes?”
Jenna’s smile is the picture of innocence. What? Me? Steal a junior employee’s idea? That’s crazy talk! “Yes, of course. In fact, I was hoping to present it to you after this meeting. I have a folder with the actual proposal in my suitcase, but I wanted to make sure we could work things out before. Would you like to quickly review it before we continue the meeting? See whether we can proceed and perhaps reduce the wholesale for Stevenson so we can all win? It will take some coordination with the factories, but I’ve estimated the new costs if we’re able to pull this new strategy off.”
I feel my jaw drop, rage-induced adrenaline coursing through my body, hands shaking so much I need to fist them at my sides for fear of losing control. I turn to look at Lena, begging her with my eyes for an explanation for her betrayal, but I find some relief in seeing she’s clearly just as horrified and surprised as I am.
Jenna Morris just fucking used my idea and took credit for it in front of our client and CEO.
“Well, that’s an amazing idea, Jenna. Lena,” Sascha addresses my boss now, “why didn’t you think of this sooner? You’re head of production, are you not? I mean, this proposal has amazing value.”
Lena presses her lips together, fire in her eyes as mine sting, tears threatening to run down my cheeks. “I suppose Jenna and I are sometimes misaligned on what values are,” Lena bites back, too low for our CEO to hear.
“Well, I’m so glad to hear we have Jenna on our team,” the client says.
Jenna smirks at Lena and then at me, daring us to challenge her in front of the client, to make a scene in front of the leader of our company. Helpless, I stand there, in the corner of the showroom, fighting back tears. Following Lena’s lead, I attempt to control my emotions—which, given her frequent outbursts, I would’ve never found her possible of doing.
This growing love for what I do has broken my heart.