wasn’t about to endure the most uncomfortable day of work in my life.
I dressed in tan crop pants and a cream-colored blouse with glossy tan pumps, one of my newest outfits, which I accessorized with a coral-colored statement necklace. I try to dress the line between designer and business professional, and this is one of the few outfits I think pulls it off.
My pumps were tossed into my oversized purse right beside the envelope of cash I’d have to give to him. Maybe I’d wait until he went to lunch and put it on his desk, but that was a lot of money to leave in the open. I was sure he’d come find me anyway. There’d been no response to my email, and I found that a little scary.
I tried to read my book on the train ride in, but I kept scanning the same page over and over again and absorbing none of it. I had planned on coming in early, thinking I could get past his office door and to my cube before he was in, but I took too long getting ready and wound up ten minutes late. His light was on and the door open as I came down the hall. All I could hope was he wasn’t in his office right now.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it empty, and that sigh died in my throat when I turned the corner into my cube.
“You’re late,” Logan said, his face dark.
I’d taken my time and selected what I thought was my best attire, and I had the suspicion he’d done the same. His steel-colored button-down shirt looked flawless against his tan skin, and I knew exactly where below his black pants the tan stopped. His tie was the perfect shade of gunmetal gray and for a moment I wondered if I could pull out my Pantone deck and find the matching swatch.
I set my bag down and pulled out my chair to sit. “Yes, I’m running behind this morning.”
“Can we speak in my office?”
I wasn’t going to make it easy on him. “Only if it’s work related.”
His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “What else would it be?” He left me there, wordlessly demanding I follow. My blood boiled.
I remained in the doorway of his office as if that would keep him from trapping me there. He held up a frosted envelope — a job jacket with the design specs and guidelines.
“This is the GoodFood jacket. They want a complete identity rebrand,” he said. “No green, the client was adamant. Modern, but not trendy or pretentious.”
This was a huge job, and the fact he was assigning it to me temporarily let me forget about the awkwardness. “You’re giving it to me?”
“You don’t think you can handle it?” he said, maybe concerned I hadn’t ripped it from his hands yet.
“No, I can. I feel comfortable taking on a project of this size.” I took the jacket from him, disoriented when he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even looking at me; it looked like he was scanning his email. How did he not want to talk about what happened?
“Did you need something else?” he asked, like I was hovering over him annoyingly.
Then I understood. This was another test, a game. He wanted me to initiate the conversation. Not a chance.
“Just to say thanks.” My heels were silent on the carpet as I exited his office, a smile on my lips. This was a game I would win.
Getting the GoodFoods account couldn’t have come at a better time. I worked through lunch researching the client and reading their complaints with their current branding over and over again, so I could address their issues in the best way possible.
I never saw him during the day. But at quarter to five, I got an email from Logan without a subject line, and I held my breath.
I need you to vectorize this logo for a client, and they need it ASAP. Since you were late, you can stay late.
When I opened the file, I cursed at the screen. It was a piece of crap image composed of ten different gradients and mesh fills. There was no way I could run a trace program on it. I’d have to redraw it from scratch, and it would take at least an hour. This was bullshit busywork.
I dressed in tan crop pants and a cream-colored blouse with glossy tan pumps, one of my newest outfits, which I accessorized with a coral-colored statement necklace. I try to dress the line between designer and business professional, and this is one of the few outfits I think pulls it off.
My pumps were tossed into my oversized purse right beside the envelope of cash I’d have to give to him. Maybe I’d wait until he went to lunch and put it on his desk, but that was a lot of money to leave in the open. I was sure he’d come find me anyway. There’d been no response to my email, and I found that a little scary.
I tried to read my book on the train ride in, but I kept scanning the same page over and over again and absorbing none of it. I had planned on coming in early, thinking I could get past his office door and to my cube before he was in, but I took too long getting ready and wound up ten minutes late. His light was on and the door open as I came down the hall. All I could hope was he wasn’t in his office right now.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it empty, and that sigh died in my throat when I turned the corner into my cube.
“You’re late,” Logan said, his face dark.
I’d taken my time and selected what I thought was my best attire, and I had the suspicion he’d done the same. His steel-colored button-down shirt looked flawless against his tan skin, and I knew exactly where below his black pants the tan stopped. His tie was the perfect shade of gunmetal gray and for a moment I wondered if I could pull out my Pantone deck and find the matching swatch.
I set my bag down and pulled out my chair to sit. “Yes, I’m running behind this morning.”
“Can we speak in my office?”
I wasn’t going to make it easy on him. “Only if it’s work related.”
His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “What else would it be?” He left me there, wordlessly demanding I follow. My blood boiled.
I remained in the doorway of his office as if that would keep him from trapping me there. He held up a frosted envelope — a job jacket with the design specs and guidelines.
“This is the GoodFood jacket. They want a complete identity rebrand,” he said. “No green, the client was adamant. Modern, but not trendy or pretentious.”
This was a huge job, and the fact he was assigning it to me temporarily let me forget about the awkwardness. “You’re giving it to me?”
“You don’t think you can handle it?” he said, maybe concerned I hadn’t ripped it from his hands yet.
“No, I can. I feel comfortable taking on a project of this size.” I took the jacket from him, disoriented when he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even looking at me; it looked like he was scanning his email. How did he not want to talk about what happened?
“Did you need something else?” he asked, like I was hovering over him annoyingly.
Then I understood. This was another test, a game. He wanted me to initiate the conversation. Not a chance.
“Just to say thanks.” My heels were silent on the carpet as I exited his office, a smile on my lips. This was a game I would win.
Getting the GoodFoods account couldn’t have come at a better time. I worked through lunch researching the client and reading their complaints with their current branding over and over again, so I could address their issues in the best way possible.
I never saw him during the day. But at quarter to five, I got an email from Logan without a subject line, and I held my breath.
I need you to vectorize this logo for a client, and they need it ASAP. Since you were late, you can stay late.
When I opened the file, I cursed at the screen. It was a piece of crap image composed of ten different gradients and mesh fills. There was no way I could run a trace program on it. I’d have to redraw it from scratch, and it would take at least an hour. This was bullshit busywork.
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