Page 1 of Out of Office

One

Genevieve

Diligence. Ambition. Drive.

The three words were engraved in my psyche. Especially today as I sat in this trailer office with the cheap beige carpets and IKEA furniture, my cell phone ringing for the tenth time. The words were a compass and a constant reminder of my goals in life. The ambition to triumph, never settle, and make my mother proud. Being the only child of a single overachiever came with expectations to shatter my own glass barriers.

Diligence. Ambition. Drive.

The words might as well be my mantra. I’d heard them since I was six years old, the weight of my mother’s dream heavy on my shoulders even then.

As I finished the last emails of the day, I attempted to put together the agenda for my return to Florida but couldn’t muster the energy. Not with this nervous current running through me. Not with the calls on my cell phone screen hovering over a day that should be celebratory.

My mother had put herself through college, the first of the family, but that wasn’t enough...oh no, it also meant that I needed to provide some firsts. Starting with an MBA, to the detriment of my ever-present debt. Youngest General Manager of my company at thirty-two, and my third first loomed close. You’d think I’d be ecstatic, but another first threatened, not allowing me to be great: complete and utter burnout.

My entire life had become a never-ending stream of deadlines, where the goalpost continued to be moved upward, never to be reached.

Even thinking of her mantra tonight tired me. Relaxation never penetrated my mind enough to pause and release me from my daily stressors.

That’s why the decision to take two weeks away from my predetermined, meticulous plan was unprecedented. And that’s why my phone had been ringing off the hook for the past three hours, and it rang again as if I had summoned it up.

“Genevieve Raymond, what do you mean you’re not returning tomorrow?” Mom asked the moment I answered the phone.

A cold pang radiated from my chest, making my palms sweat as I debated my response. At work, they called me the Silent Sniper. I had been known to make more than a few directors cry after my visits, but a simple call from Lissette Raymond and I lost my power of speech.

“Hello, Mother.” I attempted to hide my hesitation. Mom would pounce on it.

“Don’t Hello, Mother me. What is this you texted me? ‘I’m taking a vacation.’ A vacation isn’t in your timeline until you finally get your promotion next year.”

“Yes, well, it’s company policy to give me two months in the office until my next assignment. So, why not take the benefit?”

The silence on the other side of the phone materialized as an apparition deployed to haunt me. Mom usually used this tactic successfully in her professional life, and apparently now with me.

“Mother...Mom. Silence, unfortunately, doesn’t work on me. I’m staying in Panamá. Two weeks of relaxation and exploration. I’ve decided.” A rush of rightness flowed through me and settled my aching chest. Every step of my career had been delicately orchestrated, with mentorship from my mother. There was no decision I’d made without her guidance; after all, why not leverage the most successful person in my orbit? Mom had learned the treacherous path of corporate America for a Black woman and wanted to spare me any missteps. We had started clashing lately because some of Mom’s advice remained based on the corporate America she knew, but things had changed since then.

“Well, I guess you’ve made up your mind, and I have no say in this decision.”

Ah. Guilt. A seldom used weapon in Lissette’s arsenal but highly effective. The shot was a glancing blow, nothing else.

“Yes,” I replied serenely. Mom always forgot I was a grown woman at thirty-seven.

“At least you have your laptop; you have to get ready. You know they’ll open the VP of Ops position soon.”

“Well, it’ll have to wait. I’m not taking the laptop.” I tried to ignore the sudden itch on the palms of my hands. I wasn’t codependent on my work. I could and would disconnect for two weeks. Heck, the company plugged off my email whenever I took paid time off, and part of the two-month break included unlimited PTO as needed. And I needed it. Lately, my entire body ached, the tension between my shoulders so solid my trapezius could cosplay as a bodybuilder’s.

“Now you’re just being reckless. Call me back when you are serious.” The beep signaling the end of the call served as a poor goodbye. I wouldn’t let the roiling guilt of taking time for myself overwhelm me. Mom remained keenly attuned to what it took to grow in any career, and her mentorship of young Black professionals was well-known in our community. It was why Mom pushed me so hard, but two weeks in an affordable B and B wouldn’t splinter my dreams or the bank.

I meant to enjoy this interlude.

Shaking off the down brought by my call with Mom, I walked out of the office I’d inhabited for the past four months as I assisted in the pre and grand opening of the new Tropics hotel and casino in Panamá City—the first of the company.

My heels’ rhythmic clicks and clacks interrupted the silence in the satellite office across from the new hotel. Soon, the silence evolved into a buzz of chatter and music as I traversed the tunnel that connected the pre-opening offices to the main building.

Tropics Hotels had experienced a rapid expansion in the past two years, including adding new countries. I’d capitalized on that expansion, volunteering the last year to onboard new general managers, open properties, and cover during transitions in the Latin America and Caribbean area. When they opened the VP position for the Caribbean/LATAM region, I hoped my name would be foremost in everyone’s mind. I’d busted my behind to make sure of it.

A glittering chandelier hovered over the open lobby, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, with views of Balboa Bay. The hall dripped with opulence, with bright blue, green, and white murals designed by an upcoming Panamanian designer. The architecture and design of the hotel were exquisite, and finally seeing it full of stylishly dressed patrons filled me with warmth.

Panamanian professionals had spearheaded the entire project, one of the key requirements in the company’s expansion. The importance of working with locals was one of the other reasons the new region of Latin America and the Caribbean appealed to me. So many companies tended to bring Americans to crucial hotel positions, but Tropics had recruited from each country. I might not be close to my father, but his Panamanian descent had made me eager to be part of the pre-opening team here. If only I’d explored the country instead of losing all my hours at work. Sigh.

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