Chapter 15
Chapter
On Monday morning at work, the problem of Mom’s unfinished business churns through my mind until I feel physically sick and my neck aches from holding my head up.
I keep pinging Erica, offering to do things. And I’m trying to be extra responsive in the public channels, volunteering whenever anyone says they need help with a task.
ruby.ocampo:
Anything else I can help you with? I finished that memo, it’s ready for you in the drive
How are you doing on coffee? Need anything from downstairs?
Mom should be able to see these, the way she was spying on my chats with—
“Don’t be late for the meeting, Ruby!” Erica says, popping up next to my cubicle again. “You seem so scattershot this morning. We’re discussing our Q2 goals.”
I deflate a little, getting up from my desk and joining the others as we file into the conference room, each of us cradling a laptop in one arm.
Erica dims the lights, fires up her PowerPoint, and extends a long, retractable pointer. “Now, you all know we underperformed last quarter,” she says. “And I have some theories about that.”
She clicks through to her next slide and taps some images of text with red circles around clusters of words. “Our copy was dull, it was flat, it was nothing special. We need to step up our game.”
When her back is turned, Al rolls his eyes.
He sees me looking and smiles, like we’re sharing an inside joke.
A DM appears on my laptop screen.
al.jones:
Have you ever considered working harder?
I have to stifle a laugh. I should be listening, but this little moment of unity against Erica gives me a rush of serotonin.
ruby.ocampo:
Crazy idea. Total game-changer.
The corner of Al’s mouth turns up slightly, even as his eyes stay fixed on Erica while she clicks through her presentation, moving on to a section about using more dynamic verbs.
al.jones:
I mean, we’re not the ones making the ad placements.
Maybe she should lecture the person deciding the strategy.
Across the room, Morgan snickers, and Erica shoots her a glare. She must be DM-ing, too.
ruby.ocampo:
Like does she want my copy to tap dance?
al.jones:
Paint your house and shine your shoes, while we’re at it.
Erica switches to a slide about creating a consistent vibe. To my left, Sarah’s sliding down deeper into her chair, looking like she has indigestion. So I take a chance and message her:
ruby.ocampo:
Her vibe is consistently rancid
For a weightless second, my stomach clenches, because what if it turns out Sarah actually really likes Erica?
But then I hear something. It’s subtle—I would miss it if I weren’t sitting right next to her—but I’m pretty sure Sarah snorts.
A skull-emoji reaction appears under my message, and Slack tells me sarah.ng is typing.
sarah.ng:
so consistent
Her phone buzzes a few times, sitting on the table between us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Message from Greg De Leon appear on her screen a few times.
Interesting.
A message from Mom pops up on my computer, and my scalp prickles with dread.
sampaguita72:
Don’t talk about your boss like that in here! What if they read it?
Then they’ll see I’ve been carrying on a lengthy correspondence with my dead mother, too. But okay, sure.
ruby.ocampo:
Sorry, Mom.
I minimize Slack and try to pay attention as Erica walks us through a chart breaking down the building blocks of strong promotional copy. But the next time we’re in a meeting and Al pantomimes painting a wall when Erica’s back is turned, I have to think it was worth the risk.