Page 34 of Rich and Bossy

I mean, how many people must reach out to her on a daily basis? She’s got something like half a million followers onFacebook alone. She’s the largest pro-union voice in the country, maybe the world.

Even if she does notice, there’s no guarantee she’d have the time to take out of her day to answer me or point me in the right direction. I don’t know her. I’ve met her once at a conference and it was for thirty seconds. She won’t even remember, I bet.

You done psyching yourself out yet?

To hell with it. What’s the worst that can happen? I never hear back from her? I can still go to my professors and ask for help if she doesn’t get back to me.

I get up and go to my desk, where my laptop waits. “You can do this,” I whisper to myself as I go to her page, where there’s a list of upcoming speaking engagements and pictures from conferences she’s recently appeared at.

What should I say? I guess short, sweet, and to the point will do. But it has to be punchy. It has to be something that can get her attention.

It’s safer to type it out in a Word doc, then copy and paste. I don’t want to accidentally send something before I’m absolutely sure it’s what I want her to read.

I start typing out my thoughts.

Mrs. Page.

Is she a Mrs? I guess I should look that up. I’ll fix it when I’m done, I can’t lose my train of thought right now, so I keep typing.

I work for a very large company based out of Minneapolis, with offices and fulfillment centers all over the country.

Hey, I didn’t name drop anything. I’m sure she can figure it out, though. I’m not going to struggle to try to hide who I’m talking about.

Working conditions in the warehouses, fulfillment centers and among the delivery drivers have deteriorated to the point where employees have become concerned for their safety. This is due to increasing demands from management. We’veaddressed these grievances through appropriate channels, and have received no feedback, after months of waiting.

I’ve already spoken to a number of my coworkers, and all of them showed interest in organizing a union. I’m confident we could have a shot at this warehouse.

Are you really?

With Campbell on the team helping, yes!

But with so many locations across the entire country, and so many people affected, I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve tried to learn everything I can about the legal process, but I’m overwhelmed with information and how to make decisions from here. I know it’s a long shot, reaching out to you, but I figured if anybody could point me in the right direction, it would be you. Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this, and I hope to hear from you.

I read it back a few times. Hmm. Not bad. It’s not super formal, which I think makes it more human. Makes me sound more like a real worker experiencing these things with my coworkers.

Still, I spend a half-hour refining that short message, trying to get each sentence perfect and to the point. No rambling, where there would be time for her to space out. No repetition. This feels so heavy, like there’s so much riding on it. Probably because there is. I read, then reread, before finally pasting the text into the DM box.

Also, yes, she did get married to Penn Hargrove, but she has kept her maiden name in her professional life, so that is what I used.

I take a deep breath and hit send.

Terrific. I can’t take it back now.

I start to minimize the browser when Campbell’s avatar appears beside my message. “Holy hell.” My heart starts thumping in my chest. She’s reading it, or at least somebody is.Probably an assistant. I imagine she has some kind of PA who monitors these things for her.

And now I hate every word I wrote.

My brain is going nuts scrutinizing everything.You should’ve changed this. You should’ve said that.

Still, I wait with my heart in my throat—especially when an ellipsis appears under my message, telling me somebody’s typing a response.

“Oh, no. I didn’t prepare for this. Not this second. I was supposed to wake up and maybe there was a message, not instantly.” I hold my head in my hands for fear it might fall off my neck. This is all happening so fast, I don’t know what to do.

Calm down, it’s an assistant or something automated. Thanking you for the message and promising to pass it on to Campbell at the first opportunity.

I really need to chill out, or else Mom and Dad will find me slumped over my desk, dead from a heart attack.

Campbell:Hi, Hazel. Thanks for reaching out. Can I give you a call? There may be a lot to discuss here.

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