Ben.
“I’ll tell Henry to stop leading you on,” I say.
Erika laughs.
“Puh-lease,” says Ben. “The question is, does Judd qualify as a coworker if he’s actually a consultant, not a member of staff?”
I think for a moment, trying to come up with a counterargument that doesn’t make me sound too petty or jealous. “Well, that sounds like a technicality,” I say. “He has been given an office. And he will be coming in every day like a regular employee.”
“Phhhww,” says Ben.
“Plus,” I say before he can go on, “isn’t it a slippery slope? If Erika Fallon breaks the rule for Judd, won’t every other single man in the office feel they have the right to ask her out in the future?”
“Why not!” says Ben. “Let’s open the floodgates instead of bolting all the doors.”
I sip my coffee and say, “My advice to you, Erika Fallon, is to wait a while. Maybe when you get to know Judd better you won’t think he’s so cute after all. Why break the rule now when you can always break it later?”
“That’s a good idea,” says Erika.
“That’s a terrible idea,” says Ben. “You need to flirt with him like crazy and make sure he gets his butt down to that hotel in Washington next week.”
“I can do that,” says Erika. “Flirting’s easy. Especially when you know someone’s off limits. You can relax with them. Isn’t that right, Russell Wiley?” She fixes me with her warm brown eyes and waits for me to come right back at her with something witty and profound.
“Er, I guess so,” I say.
“Russell,” says Jeremy Stent, bursting eagerly into my office. “I have this fantastic idea I want to run by you.”
It’s 9:01. I’m still not fully recovered from my breakfast experience. My spicy egg wrap isn’t sitting well in my stomach. And the sight of Jeremy isn’t helping.
Jeremy’s a smart misfit who hasn’t managed to gel with his colleagues or understand why the work he produces, which makes perfect sense to him, is completely unusable based on the way we like to do things around here. The best thing about Jeremy is that he’s only been with us three months. Which will make him easiest to fire when the layoffs come.
“What does Pete think?” I ask, knowing already that Pete Hughes, Jeremy’s nominal boss, has not yet been zapped by Jeremy’s latest brain wave.
Jeremy’s eagerness to come up with new ideas would be endearing if he could just stop his ego from showing. In his junior role he needs to be respectful and supportive to his immediate supervisor. And not barge into my office and attempt to dazzle me with ideas that, while new to him, I’ve invariably seen before.
“I wanted to bring it to you first,” he says in a tone that manages to sound both obsequious and patronizing.
I should just tell him to get back to work. To do what he’s told. To stop trying to come up with ideas we haven’t asked him for. I need him producing the work that will justify his meager salary and his inflated self-opinion.
But I indulge Jeremy and listen to him as best I can. He thinks he has devised another great money-saving idea for the company that would also be astonishingly easy to execute. There’s only one problem with it: Jeremy’s idea would require Burke-Hart’s business and lifestyle groups to work together with a spirit of selfless cross-divisional partnership. In Jeremy’s utopian worldview, he imagines somehow that both sides would be willing to put the overall good of the company ahead of their individual priorities.
As soon as that level of impossibility is established, I start to lose interest. My mind wanders. It becomes harder and harder for me to concentrate on the exact details of what Jeremy’s saying.
I try to quantify the sources of my distraction.
Five percent is pure nostalgia. Jeremy’s reminding me of my own idealistic youth. When I thought it was possible to make a meaningful contribution to the corporate world. That my ideas would
“I’ll tell Henry to stop leading you on,” I say.
Erika laughs.
“Puh-lease,” says Ben. “The question is, does Judd qualify as a coworker if he’s actually a consultant, not a member of staff?”
I think for a moment, trying to come up with a counterargument that doesn’t make me sound too petty or jealous. “Well, that sounds like a technicality,” I say. “He has been given an office. And he will be coming in every day like a regular employee.”
“Phhhww,” says Ben.
“Plus,” I say before he can go on, “isn’t it a slippery slope? If Erika Fallon breaks the rule for Judd, won’t every other single man in the office feel they have the right to ask her out in the future?”
“Why not!” says Ben. “Let’s open the floodgates instead of bolting all the doors.”
I sip my coffee and say, “My advice to you, Erika Fallon, is to wait a while. Maybe when you get to know Judd better you won’t think he’s so cute after all. Why break the rule now when you can always break it later?”
“That’s a good idea,” says Erika.
“That’s a terrible idea,” says Ben. “You need to flirt with him like crazy and make sure he gets his butt down to that hotel in Washington next week.”
“I can do that,” says Erika. “Flirting’s easy. Especially when you know someone’s off limits. You can relax with them. Isn’t that right, Russell Wiley?” She fixes me with her warm brown eyes and waits for me to come right back at her with something witty and profound.
“Er, I guess so,” I say.
“Russell,” says Jeremy Stent, bursting eagerly into my office. “I have this fantastic idea I want to run by you.”
It’s 9:01. I’m still not fully recovered from my breakfast experience. My spicy egg wrap isn’t sitting well in my stomach. And the sight of Jeremy isn’t helping.
Jeremy’s a smart misfit who hasn’t managed to gel with his colleagues or understand why the work he produces, which makes perfect sense to him, is completely unusable based on the way we like to do things around here. The best thing about Jeremy is that he’s only been with us three months. Which will make him easiest to fire when the layoffs come.
“What does Pete think?” I ask, knowing already that Pete Hughes, Jeremy’s nominal boss, has not yet been zapped by Jeremy’s latest brain wave.
Jeremy’s eagerness to come up with new ideas would be endearing if he could just stop his ego from showing. In his junior role he needs to be respectful and supportive to his immediate supervisor. And not barge into my office and attempt to dazzle me with ideas that, while new to him, I’ve invariably seen before.
“I wanted to bring it to you first,” he says in a tone that manages to sound both obsequious and patronizing.
I should just tell him to get back to work. To do what he’s told. To stop trying to come up with ideas we haven’t asked him for. I need him producing the work that will justify his meager salary and his inflated self-opinion.
But I indulge Jeremy and listen to him as best I can. He thinks he has devised another great money-saving idea for the company that would also be astonishingly easy to execute. There’s only one problem with it: Jeremy’s idea would require Burke-Hart’s business and lifestyle groups to work together with a spirit of selfless cross-divisional partnership. In Jeremy’s utopian worldview, he imagines somehow that both sides would be willing to put the overall good of the company ahead of their individual priorities.
As soon as that level of impossibility is established, I start to lose interest. My mind wanders. It becomes harder and harder for me to concentrate on the exact details of what Jeremy’s saying.
I try to quantify the sources of my distraction.
Five percent is pure nostalgia. Jeremy’s reminding me of my own idealistic youth. When I thought it was possible to make a meaningful contribution to the corporate world. That my ideas would
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