Chapter 16
It was not a normal Monday. To make sure that our project team and the client team would work effectively together, the powers that be (Miranda) had decided that we’d spend the first official day of the case at a team-building day.
Personally, I thought that more progress would be made if we did less bonding and more work.
Apparently, money was no object, because the offsite was being held at Jackalope, an incredibly bougie hotel, an hour out of the city on the Mornington Peninsula.
We all caught a minibus from the office together because.
.. bonding. I practically hurled myself onto a seat next to a member of the client team to avoid Alex.
He walked past, heading to the back of the bus, noise-cancelling headphones on.
He predictably gave his backpack a seat so that he didn’t have to share with anyone, and I could have sworn he was laughing at me.
I spent the next hour learning far more than I’d ever expected to about the various stages of med-tech approval, thanks to my new, very earnest colleague.
But, in her defence, I had asked. The bus ride seemed to take forever, and I wondered if I could invent a crisis and spend the day working on my laptop in a quiet corner.
But Miranda was there, wearing burnt orange and looking improbably rested after her camping trip, evidently ready for us to make a good impression.
The hotel was impressive. It was arguably more suited to an Instagram-friendly proposal than a corporate awayday, but I wasn’t complaining. A cheery facilitator, Fiona, who had the upbeat energy of someone who regularly finished their workday at 5 pm, met us in a conference room.
We were directed towards tables that ominously contained nothing but butcher’s paper and markers. I waited until Alex had picked his seat, again at the back, before I sat down at a table on the other side of the room.
‘Now, for our first session, we’re going to focus on working effectively with different personality types,’ Fiona said.
I tried to look enthusiastic, but at that point in my life I’d had more personality tests than birthdays.
When I’d received the link on Friday to complete ‘a short questionnaire’ I’d almost been tempted to go rogue and try to conjure up another personality type, just to keep things interesting.
But in the end, I’d dutifully filled it out, answering questions to situations that I knew almost by heart.
I pretended to look interested when the facilitator’s assistant placed my results in front of me. I knew what it would say: INTJ .
‘Your concerted efforts to avoid me have been thwarted by Myers–Briggs.’ I looked up and saw that Alex was sitting down next to me. While pretending to look fascinated by my results, I’d missed the group being shuffled around the room.
‘They’re sorting us based on our personality type animals,’ he said. ‘It’s very Patronus coded.’
‘Wow, that’s a new spin on this exercise,’ I replied, and he laughed.
‘It’s a bold move using something with such a tenuous scientific basis on a bunch of scientists,’ Alex said.
‘I wouldn’t count on a mass revolt. People can’t get enough of any activity where they get to talk about themselves. Trust me, I’ve sat through enough of these.’
I looked around the room. Sure enough, faces were bright and eyes gleamed as people earnestly considered whether they were indeed a ‘dolphin’ or a ‘fox’.
‘My respect for my colleagues has already significantly gone down,’ he said. ‘Was that the point of today?’
‘Yeah, the stated aim is to foster judgement and leave doubting each other’s abilities.’
He laughed.
‘Surely there are other people in this group?’ I asked.
‘ I N ,’ Alex read off the piece of paper in the middle of the table. ‘Are we the in-crowd? I’ve always wanted to be at the cool table.’ I knew with total certainty that this was something he’d never cared about. But I was glad we were talking about anything but the weekend. Or Oxford.
‘It means we’re introverts with intuition,’ I said. ‘Have you really never done one of these before?’ I pointed at the booklet in front of him that would show his results.
‘No. And I’m intuiting that this is the stuff that gives science a bad name,’ he said.
‘You enjoyed the neuroscience lectures we went to,’ I said. We’d both been obsessed with a course we’d stumbled upon during ‘Lecture Lottery’ called ‘Being Human and the Brain’ and had become the professor’s most enthusiastic unofficial students.
‘I thought “Rule One” was no nostalgia,’ he said.
Before I could reply, Fiona appeared behind us.
‘Any more in this group?’ I asked hopefully, ignoring him.
‘Just you two!’ she replied. ‘Now you, Rebecca, are a wolf.’
‘Ahh.’ I did my best to sound interested.
‘Why is Rebecca a wolf?’ Alex asked.
Fiona nodded as she seriously considered the question, not noticing Alex pressing his lips together to suppress a laugh. ‘Mm, great question,’ she said.
I avoided Alex’s eyes so I wouldn’t giggle.
‘This type of person is powerful and independent. They don’t open up to everyone and are hard to read. Wolves are pack animals and are generally monogamous creatures, finding one mate to spend their lives with.’
‘I can see how that’s relevant information for this project,’ Alex said.
Fiona missed the sarcastic edge to his voice.
‘So true,’ I said, ignoring him. ‘And I’ve found my hewolf. We’re getting married in a few weeks.’
Fiona beamed. I’d known, with my wolflike instincts, that she was the type of woman who’d get around a wedding.
‘Am I also a wolf?’ Alex asked, the teasing edge to his voice replaced with what sounded like genuine interest.
‘No, you’re in Slytherin,’ I said in a low voice, and was rewarded with a flash of mirth in Alex’s eyes.
‘You’re an owl,’ she said.
‘Hoot, hoot,’ he replied, then smiled.
I noticed Fiona run her hands through her heavily highlighted hair. His chiselled jawline hadn’t been lost on her.
‘You’re wise, logical and analytical,’ she said. ‘You have a unique perspective and intense intellect.’
I groaned. His metaphorical feathers did not need any more stroking.
‘Do I need a she-owl?’ Alex asked.
Fiona practically swooned. ‘A special type of owl,’ she replied, her voice now an octave lower.
She twirled a piece of her hair with a manicured finger.
‘Your personality type needs a counterpart who can challenge their ideas. They want to spend their life striving for intellectual mastery. They hope that the person they love will not just share this vision but be their greatest supporter.’
Neither Alex nor I responded. I knew what he was thinking.
‘So probably not a wolf then,’ I said finally.
‘Though they’re both nocturnal,’ Alex countered.
‘Actually, that’s a common misconception,’ I said primly. ‘What would an ENFJ be?’ I knew that was Matt’s personality type because he’d been subjected to almost as many of these tests as I had.
‘A dog,’ she replied.
‘I can see that,’ Alex said.
I glared at him.
‘Because they care very much about other people’s emotions, and always want to know how others are feeling,’ Fiona went on.
‘Mm. Caring, loving, spreading joy,’ I said thoughtfully.
‘A dog is the descendant of a wolf. The domesticated version. That’s interesting,’ Alex added.
Fiona looked at both of us, as if she knew that there was something slightly unusual happening in this exchange, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
‘I might check in on the dolphin and monkey table,’ she said finally, and moved towards a group of animated people, including Miranda and Lucas, enthusiastically talking over each other.
‘What are you doing?’ I hissed at Alex as soon as Fiona walked away. ‘I thought we were going to be civil.’
‘You’re so angry,’ he said softly, almost to himself.
‘I’m not,’ I began, but trailed off before I finished my thought.
If anyone had asked me a week ago what I felt about Alex Lawson I would have said, Nothing at all .
At the very most I would have said I felt a smidge of resentment or a hint of disdain.
I might have added that I never wanted to see him again.
But that was natural – who wanted to reacquaint themselves with a person who screwed them over?
This was something I never understood about movies that had payback as the goal – why risk a future on avenging a past?
But since I’d been around Alex, it had become clear that he did stir up certain emotions: irritation, frustration and, the tabooest of female emotions, anger.
‘Yeah, okay, so maybe I am—’
I was interrupted by Fiona announcing the end of our breakout time. It was time to come together and discuss what we’d learned.
I ignored Alex for the rest of the morning.
Lunch, which was pretty much the point of the day and where the actual bonding would happen, was at Doot Doot Doot, the hotel’s restaurant.
It would be paid for by Miranda’s corporate card.
It didn’t quite pass the logic sniff test to treat a company that was paying us enormous fees to lunch, but sometimes it seemed best not to question the inner workings of late-stage capitalism.
A free multi-course lunch on a Monday was one of those sometimes.
The restaurant decor was part upmarket Australian winery, part Scandinavian ski chalet. Pieces of grey faux fur were casually draped across blond-wood furniture.
‘They’ve skinned some wolves. Watch out!’ Alex whispered in my ear, before he thankfully went to sit at the other end of the table, next to Miranda.
We’d been given a long table down the middle of the restaurant.
I sat between the other consultants on our team, Lucas (personality type: ESFP / dolphin) and Adrian (personality type: ISTJ / cat).
I was happy to have the chance, in an informal setting, to get to know them better before I ruined their lives by asking them to run models and fix up slides late into the night.
Our central table took up most of the dining room but there were still other people, mostly couples, dotted around.
I felt guilty – I knew that a group like ours would suck up most of the oxygen in the room.
We would drink expensive wine and order the most courses, and because we weren’t paying the bill, we wouldn’t treat it with the deference it deserved.
A waiter stood at the head of the table, cleared his throat and with a theatrical pause waited for us to give him our full attention.
‘Today our chef has curated a special menu for you based on the concept of “Differences, working together”.’ Fiona beamed in a way that made it clear that this was her masterstroke. ‘We’ve paired ingredients that at first glance might not seem like they would work together into a coherent whole.’
While I knew my face would read as enthusiastic I inwardly groaned and prepared my grumbling stomach for dishes like gorgonzola ice cream. My phone pinged.
Do you think there will be popping candy in anything?
He’d found me on the company Teams. There was no escaping him. I gave myself a silent pep talk. Boundaries and professionalism – they were the bywords of today, and the next few weeks. I could handle work-related emails but was chatting on Teams too intimate?
Almost certainly. I also think odds of edible flowers are incredibly high.
I stared at the message I’d typed out. My finger hovered over the screen. It would be unprofessional to ignore a message from a client. I pressed send.
I saw Alex check his phone and then smile.
Haha.
I exhaled. Then another messaged popped up.
I remember every part of that dinner.
So do I. I mentally composed a message I was absolutely not going to send then threw my phone into my bag under the table.