Page 40 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

I nod. “Thank you. All right.”

I talk first about the maintenance staff, telling them about Maya’s experience, though I leave her name out. All of them—especially Ralph, who’s the head of maintenance—agree that we need to hire several more workers.

“We’re stretched pretty thin,” he admits, nodding his head. His hair, thinning and sprinkled liberally with gray, flops as he moves. “I could use four or five more people. This older population makes it less likely for residents to be able to fix things themselves.”

“I know, and I agree. In that case, can you talk to HR about finding some new hires?”

Ralph nods and makes a note on his large yellow legal pad.

“Perfect. Thank you.” I move to the next slide, which has some graphs and figures made from a survey Mr. Mackey took shortly before he left. “Let’s move on to the shuttle system. If you’ll just…” But I trail off as my computer gives a littleding, and my eyes widen when a text message from Maya pops into the upper corner of my presentation. I squint, automatically trying to read it.

Maya:Theoretically if something happened to our…

That’s where it cuts off, and a little shot of anxiety goes through me. What does that mean? If something happened to ourwhat?

I can’t very well click on the message; not while everyone is waiting for me to continue the presentation. The eyes of four very old men are on the screen right now, and there aren’t many things less professional than stopping a meeting to check my texts. Especially when those four old men wouldalsobe reading those texts as they were pulled up on the screen.

So that little ping of anxiety is going to have to wait.

I clear my throat, trying to get my head back in the game. “If you’ll just look at this figure, you’ll see that 74 percent of our tenants would—”

Ding.Another message.

I force myself to go on. “That they would actually—”

But I break off once again when the beginning of the message shows up on the screen.Maya:And your sliding door? How attached are you…

Oh, no. What about my sliding door? That little anxious twinge has invited some friends over now, and they’re starting to mill about deep down in my gut.

I point once again to the presentation, specifically to the table of figures that’s laid out neatly and precisely to help me make my point. “I’m so sorry for the disruptions,” I say smoothly. “Now as you’ll see here, 74 percent of our tenants would prefer that one additional stop be added to the weekly bus route—the Sunset Clinic doctors’ offices, which are located just down the road from the neighborhood. Although many of our tenants use the clinic for doctors’ appointments, they mainly seem to want weekly pharmacy access. Apparently they receive discounts at the Sunset Clinic pharmacy if they’re patients—”

Ding.

My eyes fly to the incoming message before I can stop them.

Maya:OMG A BIRD JUST FLEW INSIDE YOUR APARTMENT

My eyes widen and my jaw drops. A bird? In my apartment? What on earth is she—

Anotherding!

Maya:CRAP WHAT DO I DO

And another:

Maya:Your place is messier than I imagined

And immediately following:

Maya:HELP! HIS LITTLE BIRD HEAD IS LEAVING BLOODY…

I swear loudly and unprofessionally. “I’m really very sorry,” I mutter to the men in front of me. “This seems to be an emergency.”

They nod and wave off my words, gesturing silently to my phone. I can’t help but notice that they all look very interested in the texts from Maya.

“Go on, go on,” Vick says. “This sounds good.”

As though I’m his hired entertainment.

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