I really thought I would be used to subway rides by now, but I just can't keep the regional commuter rail out of my mind. Living in Wallington was pleasant, my crumbling marriage aside, and the park-and-ride train stations were so convenient. But suburban life was isolating unless you had built-in friends from high school or college. I did not. Calvin did, and none of his friends bothered to reach out to me at all after the divorce.
Fuck 'em. I don't need 'em.
And truth be told, the hustle and bustle of Manhattan always energized me. Riding into the city and ascending the stairs up to the streets, allowing myself to fall into step with my fellow workers—all of us buzzing along to our various destinations, working for eight (or ten, really) hours, scurrying back and doing it all over again the next day. It's a constant. Working here has given me stability for the past six years.
Unfortunately, that stability seems to be coming to an end. DropTop, the no-code app-building startup I've worked for since day one (or really about day one hundred, considering funding rounds), has officially been acquired by Atmosphere. A hulking behemoth of tech thatswallows up every promising idea and adds it to the roster, like some kind of computer-powered homunculus.
And, since I never made it to an executive role, I didn't get a portion of the payout. But that's the furthest thing from my mind as I trudge up the stairs to our office and find Andrea and Felicity nervously waiting for me.
"There's a guy from Atmosphere in Conference Room B," Felicity whispers. Andrea nods and fiddles with the hem of her bright red floral dress.
"Okay," I sigh, looking down at my sugary treats. "Let's get these in the break room, and I'll deal with him."
Andrea takes half the bags and follows me to the break room, Felicity in tow. The energy is… off. It's not the cautious optimism a new day brings; it's more nervous tension. I didn't even think to check my emails on my days off—I trust my team implicitly, otherwise, why would they be working here—so I'm not really sure what I'm walking into.
No one says a word, so we silently arrange the cupcakes and cookies on one of the tables with a hastily scrawled note that says "FREE". Other teams are starting to file in, and I honestly love seeing their eyes light up when they find the goodies. That's why I do this. I'm not passionate about no-code solutions, of course not, but Iampassionate about making peoplehappy.
Darrell, my senior engineer, rolls into the break room and lets out a squeal. "Cupcakes? Forme?Oh, Brooke, you shouldn't have!"
"They're foreveryone, Darry-dear. But try to put a few aside for your husband and daughter, okay? I want to have something to talk about with them during our summer party," I laugh, finally able to crack a smile.
"You won't be able to get a word in edgewise and you know it." He scarfs down half a cookie and groans happily. "God, these are so good. Which reminds me! I've been meaning to ask—could I buy a few dozen cupcakes for the kiddo's birthday? She still raves about the rainbow tie-dye ones you made last summer."
"Wh—really? Yeah, of course! It's in a couple weeks, right?" I beam happily, filled with pride that someone wantsmycupcakes for their daughter's birthday.
"Yep! Fiona's turning five, which still feels weird to say. Where does the time go?" He smiles and shakes his head. "Why does everyone look so stressed out?"
"No one said anything?" Andrea asks.
"Nope, not a word. What's up?" Darrell drops his cookie and stares intently at her.
"Atmosphere sent… a guy," she says. "He's in Conference Room B. I haven't heard anything from Kelly, but he looks tense. I don't know what to make of it. What if he's here to tell us we're all fired, and they're staging a hostile takeover?"
"You know what, Brooke?" Darrell abruptly turns to me. "I think I'm feeling a bit poorly. I might have to work remotely for the rest of the day."
"Nooo, you can't leave me!" Felicity wails. "If we're going down, we go down together."
"Hey!" I clap and stand up straight. "No one is going down. This is going to be fine, okay? We're going to be fine. Atmosphere bought us because they believe in our product. And who makes the product?"
"A lot of people," Darrell replies. "Back-end, UI, UX, Product gives direction based on customer feedback—"
"—Yes, correct, but where I was going with that was thatwemake the product. We can't be easily replaced with conglomeration drones," I assure him. Half for myself, half for the team. I'm not going to say anything to the contrary, but I am a little nervous. But the team needs me. This is why I get paid the medium bucks. "I should probably get in there, huh? Introduce myself and put my best foot forward on behalf of the team."
"Be careful," Andrea whispers. "If you go in and come back out singing the praises of Atmosphere, I'm calling the cops. Or the FBI. Or the CIA. Or whoever deals with domestic brainwashing victims."
"Okay, okay, that's enough. We're getting ahead of ourselves. Until told otherwise, this is business as usual. When Lexie gets here, please tell them to submit their PRfor the checkout module revamp, and I'll take a look when I'm back."
The team exchanges a look before chorusing back to me, "Yes, boss."
I love them, I really do, but when they gang up on me like this? It's a little bit like herding cats. But they're extremely competent at what they do, and I'm truly privileged to lead such an incredible team. Which isexactlywhat I should be telling myself before I plead my case—I assume—for everyone to keep their jobs, thank you very much.
Now,I'mgetting ahead of myself. Heading over to my desk, I quickly power on my laptop and check my calendar. Yep, there it is, plain as day: Atmosphere X DropTop, nine-thirty in the morning, Conference Room B.
Kelly, my director, knocks on the wall next to my desk. Usually, I love the open concept of the floor, but right about now would be a fantastic time to have my very own office. With a door. And preferably a large window showing the city streets below, but beggars can't be choosers.
"You ready?" Kelly asks with a glowing smile.
"As I'll ever be," I mutter back with a much less glowing, much more forced grin. Unplugging my laptop from the external dual monitors and clacky keyboard, I force the tension to exit my body and follow her to the all-glass conference room. Various other teams look up from theirscreens as we pass, and I manage a thumbs-up to the UX team, who hurriedly focus their attention back on their work.
