Chapter 10 #2
I could go on and on about what’s been written about him and his sway over this industry, but I’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that I’ve followed his career that closely.
“I think you know. Tell me you didn’t pressure Alessandra Jones into meeting with me?”
He looks up the stairs as the delivery guys trudge down and waits until they’re out the door before he takes a step closer and says, “I didn’t pressure her in any way. I vouched for your experience, but nothing else.”
I gulp, both because of his proximity and because this opportunity might be too good to pass up. “All right, I’ll send her an email as soon as I have a chance.”
I’ve been in enough meetings at the headquarters of various sports teams’ facilities that I figured I knew what I was walking into for today’s meeting with Alessandra Jones.
I could not have been more wrong.
When I’m shown to her office, it’s not full of the standard high-end office furniture.
Instead, her office has a high ceiling with a beautiful light fixture hanging from it, an antique pale wood desk with nothing on it but a closed laptop and clear acrylic organizers with pastel folders, and behind the desk are lovely built-ins full of books and awards and picture frames.
One wall is glass and overlooks the practice rink.
An off-white couch sits along the glass, two matching chairs opposite it, and a long tufted ottoman in between.
There are throw pillows on the couch and a blanket draped over one chair, and the whole space feels unimaginably cozy for an office space in a hockey rink.
The woman herself is standing behind her desk, feet crossed at the ankles and brows scrunched in concentration or displeasure as she looks at a copy of a local Boston newspaper.
“AJ?” her assistant says quietly and Alessandra looks up, startled, as if her assistant hadn’t just knocked on the door before opening it.
“Why hello,” she says, a broad smile replacing her scowl. “You must be Lauren.”
She steps around her desk, so I take a few steps across the room and shake her outstretched hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Jones.”
She laughs and says, “Please call me AJ. Everyone does.” I wonder if this is something left over from childhood, or if she’s chosen to use her initials instead of her first name so as to not draw focus to her gender in such a male-dominated industry.
“It’s nice to meet you, AJ.”
“Much better.” She gestures toward the couch. “Here, have a seat.”
We chat for a few minutes about the people we know in common and why I’m interested in working in hockey specifically before there’s a knock on the door. She introduces me to Patrick Patrona, the Director of Marketing for the Boston Rebels, and he takes a seat in the chair next to hers.
They both ask me questions about hockey, checking not just that I understand the game, but also that I understand the unique needs and goals of the Rebels as an organization.
They ask questions that touch on my previous experience in sports marketing, and I’m about to pull out some samples of my best work, when Patrick says, “So, when could you start?”
I cough to cover my gasp. “Are you offering me the job?”
“Yes,” AJ says, “we are.”
“But . . .” I pause, willing my heart to stop racing as my eyes dart back and forth between the two of them. “At the risk of sounding like I don’t want this, don’t you at least want to interview me first?”
AJ quirks her head, looking at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m okay. “That’s what we just did.”
“But . . .” Just stop speaking, now! I yell at myself inside my head. “I guess what I’m really asking is: you’re not hiring me just because Jameson Flynn recommended me, are you?”
AJ’s smile is the small, closed-mouth type. “He’s never led me astray before, and he highly recommended your work.”
“But, no,” Patrick says, “we’re not hiring you because of him. We were really impressed by your resume and the samples of work you did with athletes while you were at Kaplan. We’ve already seen what you can do. This interview was more about making sure you’d be a good fit for our organization.”
“And we do think you’d be a good fit,” AJ says, as though she can see I’m still having trouble making sense of this all.
They give me the logistics, like hours and salary, and it feels like enough pieces are lining up that this could actually work out.
“This is just happening more quickly than I anticipated.” It’s not totally unlike what happened in Salt Lake City, which might mean that I’m a more desirable employee than I’m giving myself credit for.
“I have twins who aren’t quite two yet. Since I just moved back to Boston, it might take me a bit of time to find childcare for them. ”
“We can be flexible on the start date,” AJ says, “just let Patrick know what you need.”
“I have to run to another meeting,” he says, “but I’ll be in touch with more details and to discuss your contract. You should hear from me by the end of the week.”
I thank them both and stand to walk out with him when AJ says, “Lauren? A word?”
My stomach drops in the same way it would if a teacher had said this while my whole class was on the way out the door.
I turn to face her, and she’s closer than I expect.
She’s got her arms folded lightly across her ribs and her eyes crinkle as she gazes at me. “Being a woman in sports is hard enough without getting in your own way.”
I can feel the groove between my eyebrows deepen as I try to make sense of what she’s telling me. “Getting in my own way?”
“Yes. You came to us highly recommended by one of the most well-respected men in this industry and then suggested we shouldn’t hire you based on his recommendation. You think any man in your position would do that?”
I shake my head. “I really wanted to be hired based on my own merit, not on someone else’s recommendation.”
“Was he coerced into recommending you?”
“What? No, I didn’t even know about the position until after he had talked to you about it.”
“Is your work as good as he says it is?”
I swallow down my self-doubt and remind myself that before Josh, I was a badass at my job. My work spoke for itself, enough so that Jameson was recommending me to other agents at Kaplan after I’d only been there a year or two.
“Yes.”
“So why, when Patrick offered you the job, did you try to talk yourself out of having earned that?”
I wonder how much to tell her, and then figure that she’s right. Being a woman in sports is hard enough—so I guess having someone else to confide in can only help.
“When I got my first job at Kaplan, most of my colleagues assumed it was because Carson is my uncle.”
I watch a laugh roll around in AJ’s throat, and her chest shakes with it. “I’ve known Carson for probably close to two decades, and one thing I can say for sure is that he wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t think you deserved it. Even if you are his niece.”
I think about the time, years ago, when I finally got the nerve up to ask my uncle about his decision. By that point, I’d proven myself at Kaplan over and over again, but part of me wondered if other people I worked with still harbored the belief that I hadn’t earned my position there.
Carson asked, “Do you think I’d have hired you if I wasn’t one hundred percent confident that you could do the job?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t more qualified candidates.”
“I knew you’d be good at this, could manage the stress, and make it look easy,” he said. “So who the fuck cares if there were other qualified candidates? I. Wanted. You.”
I glance over at AJ as the memory flashes through my head, and she says, “And I think you know you deserved that job too.”
“I do. And I did then. But I’m also a realist and getting that job through a family connection made it that much harder to prove myself at work.”
“Yet you did prove yourself. Which means you worked harder and smarter than a lot of other people.”
I laugh a little at that. It feels like this woman knows me because she’s been me, earlier in her career when she had to overcome similar obstacles. “That’s true too.”
“You’re probably asking yourself why I’m even involved in this hiring process when I’m the GM?”
I give her a little nod with my eyebrows raised. That question has been percolating in the back of my mind. I would think she would only be involved in hiring that related to roles that affect the team—the players, coaches, athletic trainers, that type of thing.
“Managing this team means not only recruiting the best players and coaches but also shaping the way information is communicated about the team. I didn’t get involved because Jameson recommended you.
I got involved because the last person in this job slept with one of my players, and that’s not the type of organization I’m trying to build here.
I’m already dealing with that player, but I need to make sure I can trust whoever takes this position.
” She drums her fingers against her elbows as she looks at me.
“With you, I see another female who loves the sport, not just the players. I see someone who’s early enough in their career to still have a lot of growth potential but experienced enough to add value immediately.
Plus, Patrick was pretty much sold on you before he even met you too. ”
“I’m really excited about the opportunity to work with you both,” I tell her. “I’ve been a Rebels fan since I was a kid. I think my dad taught me the Rebel Chant before I could even speak in full sentences.”
“Don’t worry,” she says with a smile, “that’s not a prerequisite for working here. We save that for the fans.”
“Oh . . .” My smile reflects my enthusiasm. “I already have so many ideas for how to leverage that for some great marketing content.”
“And this,” she says definitively, “is why the job is already yours.”