Chapter 4
4
‘It’s not like Liz to be late,’ Cait points out.
‘Lucky for her, it is like Rick to be late,’ Priya adds. ‘With a bit of luck, she’ll get here before him.’
‘I suppose we could?—’
‘Why do you think she is late?’ James asks curiously. ‘Do you think she’s okay? Or is this something to do with last night?’
‘Oh, she’s fine,’ Cait tells us. ‘I’ve just checked my phone – she said she’s running late but she’s almost here and that I should cover for her.’
‘Good work with that,’ Henry says with a chuckle.
‘What do you mean?’ Cait replies, not realising that she just did the opposite of cover for her friend.
I grab a blueberry muffin from the middle of the table. The best thing about breakfast meetings is that there is, well, breakfast. Muffins, pastries – even fruit, if you’re into that sort of thing.
‘Ugh, I’m so jealous,’ Cait says. ‘I’ve been working so hard on my holiday body for this Italy trip – nothing tastes as good as a holiday body feels, though, right?’
I realise she’s talking to me. Oh, and now everyone else is looking at me, which is just great.
‘Erm, I don’t know, these are pretty good,’ I say with a smile.
‘Well, good for you, if you’re not thinking about your holiday body, more power to you,’ she replies.
I can’t quite tell if she’s complimenting me or insulting me.
‘My holiday body?’ I repeat back to her. ‘I’ve only got the one body, so I guess I figured I’d go in this one?’
Cait shuffles awkwardly in her chair.
‘Yeah, good for you,’ she tells me, trying to sound encouraging. ‘I’ve been hitting the gym every day, working on my beach bod but, yeah, good for you. We’re only going to go and eat a bunch of pizza, right?’
Genuinely, I still cannot tell if she is insulting me or praising me.
I have – what I would call, at least – a thoroughly normal body. For better or worse, it just is what it is. I’m kind of short, kind of curvy, my feet are probably a bit bigger than you would think, my skin isn’t perfect, but whose is? I have a few stretchmarks from a teenage growth spurt, a monster spot blossoming on my chin that is just about being contained by my make-up, and I haven’t shaved my legs in a few weeks. But isn’t that all just so typical of human bodies? And yet we’re conditioned to think that, to be worthy of a holiday, we have to be in some kind of extra special shape.
‘Even I’ve been going to the gym,’ Henry says. ‘This one has been helping me get fit.’
He gives James a playful nudge.
‘Yeah, well, I guess I go every day anyway,’ James points out, but anyone who had seen his arms in a tight shirt could tell you that.
‘I see,’ I say simply. ‘Ah, well.’
I know it’s dumb and it’s petty but I really resent being made to feel like I need to get into shape for this trip so I reach out and grab a second muffin, take a bite out of that one too, and place it down in front of me next to my first one.
Before anyone can say anything, Liz finally joins us.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ she says as she charges through the room before practically throwing herself into her chair. ‘No Rick yet?’
‘No,’ Cait tells her, beaming with pride. ‘You did it!’
Liz breathes a theatrical sigh of relief.
‘So, how come you’re late?’ James asks her, trying to sound casual, but so not pulling it off.
‘Oh, you know,’ Liz tells him, batting her hand.
‘I don’t know,’ he replies, staring at her expectantly.
‘Well, let’s just say that I had a great time with Max last night, and that I’m very tired today, and we’ll leave it at that,’ Liz announces, not really giving anything away, but saying just enough to pique James’s curiosity. She can tell that it’s working too, you can see it on her face.
‘Did he take you somewhere nice?’ James asks.
‘We went for burgers,’ Liz replies.
James scoffs.
‘Yeah, he didn’t look like the type to take a girl somewhere nice,’ he points out. ‘How about you let me take you for dinner sometime, show you how a real man does it?’
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
Liz narrows her eyes at him, her lips twisting into a smile as she realises that not only is he jealous, but also that all of a sudden he’s interested in her.
‘We’ll see,’ she tells him. ‘I’ll let you know.’
James grins, like he’s got a fish on his line, but he isn’t quite ready to reel it in just yet.
The door swings open again and in walks Rick, closely flanked by his assistant Julie.
‘Right, let’s get started,’ Rick announces.
He takes his seat at the top of the table. Julie places his coffee down in front of him before sitting on her usual chair behind him – she doesn’t sit at the table for some reason, which has always baffled me. She just lurks behind him, watching over us all, taking notes.
‘So, everyone is set to fly tomorrow afternoon, yes?’ Rick asks.
‘Everyone but Robin,’ Julie tells him.
Rick looks over at me, his brow wrinkling like he thinks I’m about to cause him a major headache.
‘Oh, no, it’s not a thing,’ I quickly say in my defence. ‘I’m flying in the morning. I’ll be there before anyone.’
‘Oh, right, okay,’ Rick says suspiciously. ‘Is there any particular reason you’re going early?’
‘It was the only time my dad could drive me to the airport,’ I half-lie because, while that is technically true, I could have just got a taxi. The real reason I decided that I would much rather travel alone than with everyone else is because I’m scared of flying. I just hate it, every part of it, and no amount of the herbal anti-stress remedies my mum recommends seem to help me. I can’t have people from work seeing me at my most irrational – jigging my legs, puffing air from my cheeks, my eyes wide with pure terror – because I’d never hear the end of it. Once you show weakness (especially to those competing with you), it’s all over. Plus, you know, the thought of being on a plane with Liz, with no escape, makes me want to know where the emergency exits are and then use them. And now that she and James are flirting in front of me, I know that I’ve made the right choice.
Rick dismisses me with a nod of his head. He picks up his coffee, gulping it several times, as though he hasn’t had a drink in days, before setting it down on the table. He takes a deep breath, as though he’s going to say something.
‘All right, Julie, run them through the plan,’ Rick commands her, leaving the actual work to her.
‘Of course,’ Julie replies. ‘So, we’re flying out to Italy tomorrow. We’ll be staying at a resort in Giovinazzo, which is just outside Bari centre. There’s a hotel, holiday villas, multiple pools, tennis courts, large gardens and a private beach. The main purpose of the trip is, of course, to take meetings with the Come a Casa people. However, because we work for the best company in the world, Rick has arranged for us all to take part in some super-fun team-building activities – because the resort offers corporate retreat facilities – and then of course Rick has very generously invited us all to his wedding ceremony and reception at the end of the week.’
The work part is work, the team-building doesn’t sound super-fun at all, and I think it would be a stretch to say that Rick was being generous in inviting us because he’s definitely only doing this so that the company can pay for large chunks of his wedding. Honestly, his wife-to-be is such a lucky, lucky lady.
‘Does that sound good to everyone?’ Rick checks.
It sounds non-optional.
‘Sounds awesome,’ Liz says enthusiastically.
‘Yeah, looking forward to it, boss,’ James adds.
‘Great,’ Rick says, clapping his hands together with a loud slap. ‘Let’s tighten up the work on the Matcher pitch, and then start thinking all things Italian when we touch down tomorrow. Sound good?’
Sounds like a huge relief, because I really don’t have any ideas yet at all.
Approval echoes around the room.
What usually happens at this stage, when we’re pitching to a new potential client for the first time, is that we meet them, we get a feel for what they are selling (whether it’s a product, a service, an idea – anything) and then we work on our initial pitches. Sometimes we work alone, sometimes in groups, but we make sure that we have several ideas to take to the client. Rick has us (or our teams) work separately, so that each idea is unique and not influenced by each other, and at this stage he keeps out of it, which he says is to prevent him from stifling our creativity, but it tends to be used more for plausible deniability. That way, on the rare occasion an idea doesn’t go down well, he can throw up his hands and say that he has nothing to do with it. It’s only later, when we’ve actually secured the client, that we all work together on one shared vision. Infuriatingly, that vision usually comes from Liz and/or James.
‘Right,’ Rick says. ‘All of you, back to work. Not you, though, Robin. I need you to hang back.’
I feel my body stiffen all of a sudden. Oh, God, what have I done now? Going off his tone, and his body language, I seriously doubt he’s keeping me back to ask me to be a bridesmaid at the wedding.
‘Why are you eating two muffins, Robin?’ Rick asks and, honestly, of all the things I thought he might say, that did not make the list.
I search my brain for a reasonable explanation. Well, I don’t suppose the truth would impress him much.
‘It was an accident,’ I say simply.
The look on Rick’s face suggests that he neither believes me nor approves of my breakfast choices today – not that I usually stop to wonder if my boss approves of what I’m eating, because why the hell would I?
‘This isn’t unrelated to what I want to talk to you about,’ he starts, which is concerning. ‘Robin, remind me what industry we work in.’
I pause for a second, wondering whether this might be some kind of trick question.
‘Advertising,’ I reply, the pitch of my voice creeping up at the end because I lose confidence in my answer around the third syllable.
‘And in advertising, presentation is paramount,’ he points out. ‘And we’re here, at the end of the day, simply to sell things. Part of your job, Robin, is selling yourself.’
Erm, I’m not so sure about that one. He might want to work on his phrasing there or he’s going to find himself in an HR nightmare.
‘Do you feel like you’re selling yourself?’ he asks.
I know what he means, I guess, and if I’m being honest then probably not. I never get in his face, preferring to keep my head down and let my hard work speak for itself instead. I don’t feel like I need to sell myself because I’m not the product. We have clients, who have needs, and I do whatever it takes to meet them. I’m not quite sure what he’s getting at because I don’t think it’s my work he has the problem with, I think it’s me. What’s wrong with my presentation?
‘I’m proud of the work I do here,’ I reply, confidently this time.
‘But are you proud of yourself?’ he replies, in a tone that I imagine is supposed to trigger some sort of philosophical (if not existential) questions.
Well, my confidence was good while it lasted.
‘Is there a problem with my work?’ I ask. ‘Or me?’
It takes a lot of courage to ask – especially the second part – because I have no idea what he’s going to say, but I can’t imagine it being anything I want to hear, or that will be good for me in the long run.
‘Well, let’s look at Liz, shall we?’ he begins, proving that things really are going to go from bad to worse. ‘She dresses well, has confidence, and always makes a good impression. Her style is bold and sexy, like her ideas, and her sense of style exudes wealth and sophistication.’
I frown at him. I want to say it’s involuntary but, come on, surely even he knows that he can’t say that to me.
‘You’re saying you want me to dress sexier?’ I reply. ‘For work?’
I should hope not, because that really would be a HR nightmare for him.
‘No, Robin, you are getting me all wrong,’ he insists. ‘That’s not what I am saying at all.’
Rick sighs deeply, clearly frustrated that I’m not understanding what he’s trying to tell me. If I am getting the wrong end of the stick then I’m relieved but, somehow, whatever he is actually trying to say to me, I still don’t think I’m going to like it.
‘Robin, you arrived at the office wearing a cap this morning,’ he points out, as though that’s some kind of smoking gun and not just something I did because it is boiling out there today. ‘And look, you’re wearing a plain black T-shirt. I’m not saying I want you to dress sexier, not at all, I’m simply saying you would do better if – like Liz, and everyone else here at the office – you exuded wealth and sophistication.’
I can’t help but think that if Rick wanted to me exude wealth then perhaps he should pay me accordingly because my bank balance certainly doesn’t exude wealth.
‘But not everyone in the office dresses in designer clothes,’ I point out, feeling the need to defend myself. ‘Look at Jill, for example. She wears plain, comfortable clothing too.’
‘Jill is a mum,’ he reminds me. ‘Jill has a family to take care of. Being a family person also plays in this industry because the kind of person who has a family is the kind of person who takes commitment seriously. Some people are cut-throat, and some people are committed and loyal. I need a strong mix of both on my team, Robin, but right now, you don’t seem to fit either category. You don’t have that brutal streak, that drive – like Liz – where I don’t even know for sure whether you’re going to screw me over to get to the top, which is surprisingly good for business. But then I also don’t know if you’re settled here, if you’re committed, if you have anything to lose. Sometimes it just feels like you’re turning up here, doing your job, and taking your pay cheque – like this is just a job to you, you know?’
I stifle a smile. Erm, yes, I do know, because that’s exactly what I do. This is just a job. It’s a job that I enjoy, and I do my best with it, but it isn’t my entire personality, and I’m not going to let it take over my life, because that seems crazy to me. Genuinely, what does this guy want from me? I work long hours, I try my best – even if my ideas aren’t sexy enough, it turns out – but I’m never going to be the kind of person who will trample people to get to the top and, as far as having a family goes, I suppose I get why he might think having and showing that level of commitment might make me seem settled here (or, more likely, financially tethered), but I can’t exactly force it, can I? If it were that easy to find someone and start a family with then obviously I would’ve done it by now. As far as I’m concerned, I am settled here, and I do want to move up in the company, just, you know, not by wearing low-cut couture to the office every day.
‘I see,’ I say simply.
‘I think you need to see this trip to Italy as an opportunity to ask yourself what you want, and to show me that you want it,’ Rick points out. ‘You’re good at your job, Robin, I see great potential in you. What I don’t see is drive and commitment.’
‘Then I will do my best to show you that I have both,’ I say plainly.
Well, what else can I say?
‘Great,’ he replies. ‘I look forward to it. Oh, Robin, one more thing. Perhaps you should lay off the muffins.’
I don’t say anything, and I don’t pick up my muffins before leaving the room; instead I make my way back to my desk, thinking long and hard about what I’m going to do to prove myself to show Rick that I am a serious contender for this promotion.
I don’t want to change, and I don’t plan to, not really, but I am too early in my career to cause trouble. I do need to do something, though, to show him that this job is important to me, and that I am willing to do what it takes to keep it.
I’m just not quite sure how yet…