Serene

“NO! THIS IS ABSOLUTELY unacceptable,” screamed the VP of marketing. I pulled the phone away from my ear, letting him yell his fill without sacrificing my hearing. “Don’t you understand how behind we are? We need to move on this immediately!” I muted the phone, putting the handset on my desk as Mr. Reed approached, oblivious to the call and his disgruntled VP.

“Good morning, Serene. Has the Chinese subsidiary given us the...”

“Yes, Mr. Reed. On your desk,” I said, double checking my to-do list to make sure I’d printed the reports. Getting Mr. Xiang’s assistant in China to send over their quarterly budget statements had taken more tact and patience than I had at eleven pm. But that was the cost of doing business overseas.

“And what about the meeting with...”

“Rescheduled,” I said, lifting the phone to my ear to check on the VP who was now on a tangent about overtime during a holiday costing the company millions. I’d already done the math, he estimation was off by two decimal places.

Pushing back this morning’s meeting with a mid-western venture capitalist we’ve been courting for the better part of a month only took a medium sized-favor from an account executive at Madison Square Garden. The millionaire interested in investing in our riskiest ventures, made his money accidentally by revolutionizing dairy farming because “there just had to be a better way”. This was his first time in the “Big Apple”, as he called it far too often and with far too much enthusiasm. Tickets to see The Rockettes, the quintessential New York Christmas experience—if you’re not from New York that is—was a no-brainer and took me all of thirty seconds to arrange.

“Very good,” he said while scrolling through the day’s agenda on his phone. “Were you able to pick out a Christmas present for Cass?”

I nodded. “Of course, Mr. Reed.”

That one wasn’t as easy as the first two tasks he’d asked about. Choosing a Christmas gift for Mr. Reed’s girlfriend had been the most stressful thing I’d handled in quite a while. It had to say everything he wanted it to and not a single thing more. Cass didn’t wear jewelry or care about designer bags, shoes or scarves, so all of my go-to gifts were off the table. She was too ambitious to take time off to travel, a trait which I understood intimately, so tickets to somewhere warm and tropical for the holiday were out too. After a week of searching, I’d finally found the perfect thing for her—a first edition printing of Emile Durkheim’s Rules of Sociological Method. “Yes, Mr. Reed. It will be delivered to the office...” I switched screens and pulled up the package tracking info. “...this afternoon.” I shot a glance toward the phone, the yelling VP’s light still blinked red, like his face probably was at this point.

I liked Cass, even if her reading interests were dry. I’d never met her but since her appearance in Mr. Reed’s life, he’s been markedly less stressed about the day-to-day workings of a billion dollar, multinational finance company. He looked less tired, the purple smudges under his eyes were gone, he was quicker to smile and the last time I saw the company earnings report, we were up an unprecedented percentage.

Believe it or not, that was due to Cass as well. As a Sociological Economist grad student she was more than happy to bend Mr. Reed’s ear about the latest and greatest trends in the global economy.

He nodded, nose still in his phone. “Excellent, Serene. Now, about the Christmas bonuses  this year.”

I held a finger up, sensing the marketing VP’s tirade winding down. “Just one moment, Mr. Reed,” I said as I put the phone to my ear once more. I cut in as the VP took a breath. “As I told you before, Mr. Franklin, I cannot give you an estimate for next quarter’s ad budget until Mr. Reed has gone over last quarter’s, and he’s only now received the reports from China. I appreciate that you’re under a deadline, but I need you to appreciate the fact that I can’t give you figures I don’t have. Furthermore, if your department is forced into overtime to compensate for the late start, it will cost Reed Holdings International at maximum, just under seventy thousand dollars in additional pay and not that it’s any concern of yours, but the company could draw that from petty cash without feeling it. But, if you’re truly worried about the extra cost to Mr. Reed, I will personally cover it from my own paycheck. How does that sound, Mr. Franklin?” My accent gave the speech a clipped, curt tone, British t’s and d’s tend sound harsh and snooty and I usually try to tone that down. I did not in this case.

Franklin was silent for a few beats. “Get the figures to me as soon as you have them,” he grumbled and disconnected the call.

I placed the handset back in the cradle and looked up at Mr. Reed smiling and shaking his head at me.

“Is that why you let him go on and on like that? So you could put him in his place?” he asked, thoroughly amused.

I shrugged, surprised he noticed I was on the phone at all. It wasn’t the only reason. “Most VP’s are babies,” I said evenly. “You have to let them wear themselves out before they’ll hear anything.”

And that was the most annoying part of my job, babysitting the man-children. Give me problems to solve or logistics to figure out or clients to woo. I could do that in my sleep. Hell, even shopping for Cass had been easier. Navigating the different personalities and wrangling egos within the company, that was HR’s job, not mined. And yet I somehow found myself doing it nearly every day.

Mr. Reed straightened his suit jacket unnecessarily. “Hm. You don’t, um—you don’t let me...”

I shook my head. “Of course not, sir. There’s no need with you.” I answered honestly.

He nodded. After a moment, which I’m sure he spent recounting all our interactions to see if I had “wrangled” him, he continued. “Well, I’d offer to speak with Franklin about the way he treats my staff but you’re clearly capable of handling yourself.” Mr. Reed tapped on his chin. “Although, if he talks to you that way, I can only imagine how he manages those under him. Set up a meeting with a handful of marketing reps. I want to see if there’s a bigger problem here.”

I nodded and made a note. “Of course, sir.”

“Anyway, as I was saying. About this year’s Christmas bonuses, Serene you’ll be getting your normal percentage plus this.” Mr. Reed withdrew two tickets from his inside pocket and laid them on my desk. “Anywhere you want.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s very generous.” It was. My normal ten percent holiday bonus which was four percentage points above the maximum the company offered was generous. But now he was being ridiculous. Not that I minded. I picked up the first-class airfare tickets and put them in the cigar box I kept on my desk along with all the other tickets I’d collected over the year. They weren’t all gifts from Mr. Reed. My boss was very appreciative but he usually liked to show his gratitude with cash or company stock. Many of my contacts, however, liked to show their gratitude with gifts like these.

I could have seen countless pop princesses, basketball games, musicals or plays this year but I preferred to keep them in case I needed them for leverage. Plus, who has time to travel when they work seventy to eighty hours a week.

“You went above and beyond this year. Not just here in the office but overseeing the sale of my grandfather’s property as well.” He leveled a serious, penetrating gaze at me. “I want you to know how valuable you are to me, Serene and I hope you make good use of those tickets over the holidays.”

I nodded, knowing full well those tickets would sit unused in my cigar box like all the rest.

I liked my job too much to take time off. Despite the occasional man-child wrangling.

“Of course, sir.”

Mr. Reed gave me a knowing smile but to his credit, he didn’t call out the lie. “Make sure the...”

“Already done, sir.”

“And the...?”

“Holding on line three.”

Landon Reed smiled at me. “You’re too go to me, Serene.”

I smiled back. “I know, Mr. Reed.” He stepped into his office and closed the door.

I smoothed the fabric of my pencil skirt, sipped at my Earl Grey and got to back work on my to-do list.