Super nice? Uber creative? Saves people? I wanted to ask her about all of those things, but she had more to say on the subject.
“I could learn a lot from Ben. I’d put in for Clive’s job, but they said they weren’t going to fill it.”
“To be his assistant? They aren’t going to fill it? Why not?”
Meghan shrugged. “I don’t know. Every other manager has one. If you ask me, someone’s got it out for Ben.”
Hmm, interesting. “Who told you they weren’t going to fill it?”
“Just someone in the break room. I can’t remember who said it.”
“So, it’s a rumor?”
She shrugged. “I guess, but rumors are usually pretty accurate around here.”
“They can be, but you need to be careful with rumors.” I know firsthand how wrong the rumor mill can be. In my last job, we were told the company was doing well, making record profits. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Why don’t I check on Clive’s old job? I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“That’d be great. I could also ask Mr. Morgan about it at our meeting.” She gave me a sly smile.
“You could. But if I were you, Meghan, I’d think big when you talk to Mr. Morgan.”
“Think big?”
“Yeah. Tell him what your goals are for your future. For example, do you want to be a marketing manager? Art director? Think beyond the job as an assistant.”
“Ben’s assistant.” She said his name in a husky kind of voice. “That guy is not only nice, he’s smokin’ hot.” She paused. “For an older guy.”
That made me laugh. It couldn’t be helped. Ben can’t be much older than me, and I’m twenty-nine. “Okay. If you say so.”
“Everyone says so.”
I can see what she means. If I’d met Ben for the first time when I started work here, he’d definitely make me turn my head. He’s just one of those big handsome guys who gets better-looking the older they get. It’s obvious he works out, and according to Meghan, he’s nice, which tells me he must be charming.
She tapped the table with her knuckles, which drew my attention, “You know, he’s single in case….”
I chose not to respond to that statement and moved on. “What did you mean when you said he ‘saves people’?”
“He saves people. Like on the street. I’ve heard he saved some lady after her newspaper stand caught on fire. He ran right in there and got her out.”
“Oh.” Well, that’s something, I guess.
“And he practically threw himself onto the top of a taxi to stop it before it ran over a little old lady.”
I nodded because I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Oh, and he saved some animal that fell from a building.”
That one made my head snap back. “How did he save it?” This ought to be good.
But Meghan just shrugged. “He caught it or something.”
I couldn’t hold it back. That time, I laughed. “That’s ridiculous.” Because it was.
Meghan’s eyes narrowed, but she quickly changed up her expression. With another one of her signature shrugs, she said, “That’s what I heard.”
After Meghan returned to her job, I spent the remainder of my morning speaking with the four other support staff members who were supposed to meet with me yesterday. Since I had some talking points from my discussion with Meghan, I spent a little time focused on Ben and the rumors.
After work, I spent the subway ride home recounting my conversations with the initial five people and the four others I was able to grab in the afternoon. When I got home, after de-bra-ing and pouring myself a glass of wine from the bottle I picked up on the walk home, I pulled out the pages from the green folder again,. skimming through the ones related to the other managers in the department, including Ben. Next, I sorted the pages by managers and individual areas: the art department, social media, and so on.
When I finish, I note that Ben’s stack has more pages than anyone else. Not a great deal more, but the content of those pages is decidedly different for Ben. His comments are almost all negative while the notes on the other department heads have pros and one or two cons. I’m not sure what to make of that. According to Meghan as well as the other nine people I talked to today, Ben is a “good guy.” Not only that, he’s smart, funny, and clever, just to name a few adjectives that were thrown out. He’s also someone they’d all like to work for.
I glance down at my sorted pages. I’m missing something. Something important. It’s starting to feel like the person who took the time to write up this folder has done this for personal reasons. That’s not a shock. The question I have is why?
Leaning back on my sofa, I give myself a minute to process. I need more information from one person. I groan to myself because it means one thing: I’m going to have to meet with Ben Schilling, and I’m going to have to do it alone.
Chapter Twelve
Ben
Heading into work the day after the bus incident, I’m still exhilarated. I suppose that feeling is being helped along by the massive coffee I stopped to grab on the way. What do they call it? The Vat? It’s a funny name but one I appreciate because that’s exactly what this thing is. It’s like a large tank or tub used to hold liquid. I take a sip and moan. A delicious giant vat.
Up on the marketing department floor, I notice there are quite a few people already skittering around. I quickly look at my watch to make sure I’m not late. Sigh. I never worried about that before now, but with everything going on with the green folder and that damn sexy consultant, I can’t help but be a little worried about my job. A job I’m good at. Or at least, I thought I was. Now I’m not so sure. Job insecurity isn’t something I’m used to feeling, and it sucks.
I like what I do. Pretty much. It’s not what I set out to do when I went to college, but shit happens. The irony that I wanted to be a history teacher and ended up here, in New York City, in corporate America, isn’t lost on me. I learned in the first semester of college that I’d never make enough money to support myself teaching. At least that was what my friends all told me. Now I’m not so sure. Oh, I’m sure about the money part, but there are days when I wonder if it’s all worth it. Money, that is. As I get a little older, I can’t help wondering if changing majors from education to marketing was a bad idea, that loving what you do rather than just accepting it would be nice.
Hell, it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. We can’t go back, as they say.
I need to forget about all that and get to work.
Stopping in the small break room, I place my sack lunch in the refrigerator. As I’m turning to leave, I see Alison step into the room. When she spots me, she hesitates in an almost jerky fashion.
She’s genuinely afraid of me.
I hate that.
So I do my best to act as normal as possible. “Good morning, Alison.”
“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Good morning, Mr. Schilling.”
“Mr. Schilling? That’s very formal. Does that mean I need to call you Ms. Kirby?”