Page 16 of Love's a Glitch
Not only had Luke used emojis, he’d picked uncommon ones that fit our story. He’d also come to me for advice.
Me.
Both Penny and I turned to Cat for guidance, and on the rare occasion Catalina sought feedback, she went to Penny. Sure, I sat there and gave my two cents here and there, like their hype man who just randomly yelled out “yeah boy.” In fact, I’d once joked I should get a giant analog clock necklace to complete my usefulness.
I pressed my phone to my chest and spun around in my chair, my tummy whirling even faster.
“Eloise?”
I planted my feet, bringing myself to an abrupt stop, and then slowly pivoted to my boss.
Marge loomed over me, fists planted on her hips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have a huge project you should be working on?” She was forever wording her slights in a way that made you feel as small as possible. Not only did she not want a genuine answer, but also any attempts to actually correct her would be met with contempt.
I leaped over the top of that iron-jawed bear trap and reached for my computer mouse. I even clickity-clicked it for good measure, likeSee, Miss Overlord? Totes working right now.
“Yes, ma’am, I do have a huge project, and I’m on it. I’m just waiting for a reply from Charles from Coastal Luxury Realty.”
“Surely you don’t need that reply to tweak and buildeverypart of the website. But if you can’t make an executive decision until you hear back, there’s always the Medline project.”
“Right. On it.” Even if going from luxury real estate to a Medline website that detailed the types of hemorrhoids and how to treat them felt a bit like being in the middle of a contemporary romance novel and then suddenly there were alien warlords attacking.
Unless the alien warlords turn out to be hot. Then count me in.
Okay, forget the book analogy, because fiction was awesome like that. The point was, working on multiple websites a day, particularly ones written in different code, tended to jumble my process. Technically I did have the capability, as evidence by the side projects I took on. But I blocked out my weekends for those, preferring to keep a separation between church and state or whatever.
Marge crossed her arms tighter instead of moving on, and I refreshed my email, hoping for a message to appear so I wouldn’t have to deal with hemorrhoids.
The oxygen whooshed from my lungs when I spotted Charles L. Davis’s name in my inbox, all bolded and with the exclamation point, as if I wasn’t already urgently working on the website for him. Now I wished there wasn’t a reply.
While Past Me felt so brave sending the email and analytics, Current Me was going to have to deal with the inescapable likelihood that my message hadn’t been well received. I’d also never imagined I’d have to read it with my boss looking over my shoulder.
Satisfied I was working, Marge finally moved on to scowl at other people over the amount of beans they were or weren’t counting.
My gaze snagged on [email protected] address in the CC line, and apprehension thrummed behind my temples.That little punkass bitch CC’d my boss.
The hammering of my heart intensified as I rushed to read the message.
Eloise,
I appreciatethe information on the websites I’d provided to you as examples. When it comes to your skillset, I have no doubt that you’re good at what you do and possess the skillset to make several of the companies you work for happy. As you pointed out, my references for what counts as a successful website these days is, indeed, out of date. All that said, the fact of the matter is that I still can’t sign off on a design I don’t like, regardless of how fancy or modern you consider it to be. Perhaps that makes me “old-school,” but our company has also been in the game for nearly a century. We set trends, not chase them.
My intention isto find a happy medium, where we’ll both be proud enough of the new website to feature it in our portfolios. I assure you I’m not trying to tie your hands, but trust is earned, not given. I also understand if the two of us are simply not a match when it comes to this project. Please let me know how you’d like to proceed from this point.
Best,
Charles L. Davis
Panic replacedthe blood in my veins, spreading extra quickly due to my rapid pulse.Shit, shit, shit.The older crowd tended to get overwhelmed when it came to copious amounts of data, and I’d thought if I’d provided enough, firmly enough, it’d prove to Charles that I knew my stuff, and he’d back down.
Instead, he’d escalated, and since he’d gone and included my boss in the message, I was about to be fired from this project, if not lose my job entirely.
There were a dozen things I should do. Apologize profusely, then rush to create a new page I could show him and my boss. Yet all I could think was that I needed to talk to Luke.
My fingers curled around my phone, and I let my anger take center stage as I tapped out a text.
Me:I changed my mind. I DO want you to beat up someone for me. Actually, where do you draw the line? Is burying a body out of the question?
Luke:I’d ask if you’re joking, but you didn’t use any emojis, so I know you mean business.
