Chapter 6- La Vida es un Carnaval
The week flew. The software install went smoothly, and Lizzie trained the operators with Ignacio at her side—collaboration, even if her procedures ultimately prevailed.
Will had been locked in “important meetings.” Lizzie felt light—no clenching jaw, no frown, no shadow on the mezzanine. Freedom.
Charles stopped by midweek, all golden retriever energy.
“Lizzie! Will finally came to his senses I heard, and hired you.”
“I’ll make him glad he did.”
“No doubts!” Charles beamed, then spilled on the product expansion. Perfect timing, Lizzie thought.
Lizzie really liked Charles. He was hard not to like.
He was always really enthused about everything you said, and no matter the topic, he spoke about it with such vigor that you couldn’t help but share in his excitement.
He laughed at every joke she made, and was always very complimentary of her work.
But Lizzie had heard now several times that Charles and Will were best friends, and that she struggled with.
Charles was all fun, light, and silliness.
In contrast, Will was dark, brooding, and serious. It was a mystery.
Maybe, Lizzie thought, not for the first time. Maybe they were both into the same really niche hobby like Frisbee golf or Magic the Gathering. One of life’s great mysteries.
Friday morning, Lizzie rolled in with her boombox—a teen relic, vintage. Will’s office was dark. Perfect.
She gathered the crew.
“Today we have our dry run. New procedures, new flow. Ask questions—it gets easier.”
Some faces were still skeptical.
“But first—energía!”
She hit the button on the boombox, and Danza Kuduro blasted. The group responded with whoops and claps to the beat.
Lizzie led the charge—hips, hands, tasks. Music had turned labor into rhythm.
Everyone moved in pace on their tasks just as they moved in rhythm to the music.
Lizzie smiled and went to grab her notebook when she saw a figure in the shadows on the mezzanine looking down on them.
Will, and he wasn’t even tapping his foot.
Oh well, Lizzie thought. Let him stew up there on his own.
Eventually, Will came down. Lizzie was happily taking measurements and taking notes, the results speaking even louder than the music. The song playing now, La Vida Es Un Carnaval, was one of her favorites, and she was singing along unabashedly.
“Is the soundtrack included in your contract, or do I have to buy the music separately?”
“I’ll make you a copy. But this boombox is vintage and invaluable. I’ve owned this since high school. I probably should even risk bringing it out with me, but I swear music sounds better on it than my phone,” Lizzie patted it affectionately.
“You definitely have unconventional methods,” Will said, looking around at the merrily working operation.
“Yeah, but you can’t argue with results.” Lizzie angled the notebook toward him so he could see her notes.
“40%?! You improved the DC efficiency by 40%?” Will looked unbelieving.
It was exactly the reaction Lizzie was hoping for. “Yup—and that’s just the beginning. There’s a learning curve, so I’ll measure again in a few weeks.” Lizzie’s eyes were dazzling as she talked about it. This was her zone.
“Am I to expect results like this every week?” Will asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” Lizzie said, frowning slightly.
“The DC had the most physical changes and would produce the most immediate results, so I started here. But the next few weeks, it’s going to be with the procurement team, AR, AP, customer service, etc.
Improvements, yes—but like this? Nah. Not as much fun either. ”
“Oh, I don’t know—we have a couple of guys on the accounting team who can really cut a rug.” Will joked.
Lizzie laughed and then said, “Is that where George worked?” She wasn’t sure why she asked; she knew it would bother Will. Maybe she wanted him to know she knew about his cruelty toward George. Maybe she wanted to remind herself.
“No,” he said, visibly tensing up. “He didn’t really work much anywhere.”
The silence between them was deafening, and even Celia’s exclamations of “?Azúcar!” weren’t enough to distract from it.
“I’ll have lunch brought in around noon if that works?” Will said finally.
“Yes, perfect,” Lizzie replied, thankful for the change of subject. And with that, Will nodded and walked away.
An hour later, Ignacio and Lizzie were hanging mirrors for the blind corners when Will came downstairs.
Lizzie was up on a ladder while Ignacio held the base.
Will was caught off guard seeing Lizzie in this position, and from that angle.
Usually a paradigm of control and sure-footedness, he was caught in an uncharacteristic moment of clumsiness.
Not watching where he was walking, he walked right into the mirrors still waiting to be hung, causing a loud CRASH and every eye to turn his way.
The glass was intact, but Will’s ego was shattered.
“?El jefe se comió el espejo!” Ignacio exclaimed. (The boss ate the mirror!)
“Hey—safety first, boss!” Lizzie said, laughing from the ladder, thinking, Will hoped, that he had just tripped, and not that he had been distracted from seeing her at this… angle.
Will cleared his throat and said, “Lunch is here,” before retreating to try to repair his injured pride.
Lunch was a spread of bocaditos, pastelitos, and croquetas—and, of course, coladas.
Will stood off to the side, knowing he had emails piling up, but enjoying watching Lizzie interact with the warehouse staff; he couldn’t pull himself away.
It didn’t matter whether the employee was from a different walk of life, age, or background; they all seemed to love her.
She listened artfully and gave each of them equal attention.
Will was fascinated by her skill with the employees, but also hoped to learn how to emulate her ease.
Ignacio came up to him, passed him a little colada, and said, “I wasn’t sure about her when you first brought her in, but now I think we’ll miss her.”
Will nodded, knowing the sentiment. “She’s really good, right?”
“I don’t want to overstep, but you shouldn’t let her get away.”
Will clenched his jaw. “I employ her. That would be very inappropriate.”
“I meant as an employee. Like you should keep her on the payroll.”
He nodded, understanding—but internally, he thought there wasn’t anything he’d want less than to keep Lizzie around as an employee.
* * *
From the Desk of William Pemberley
4:15 p.m. — Miami DC Office
40%. In one week.
With a boombox and Danza Kuduro.
She danced. They followed with their moves; I couldn’t help following her with my eyes. I stared so hard at her up in a ladder that I ended up crashing into a mirror.
She asked about George. I froze. Should I have told her?
I bought lunch. She said “perfect.” I wanted to say that’s my line.