“You could call her.”
“I said some things that were out of line. I don’t think she’d be happy to hear from me.”
“You could… apologize.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
We hug goodbye and I take out my phone. I open WhatsApp to look at the last messages from Hope. They’re about meeting up for the magic show.
I start to type something—Hey, hope you don’t mind hearing from me. I was thinking about you and wondered if we could talk—but then I stop and delete it.
Because what would I say if I called her?
That my life is perfectly ordered, just like I wanted, and I’m miserable?
That I miss her every day?
That she was right?
What is she supposed to do with this information?
Save me by declaring her love? The same thing I told her wasn’t possible?
Hearing her voice would be like sprinkling water on a pot of soil with no seeds. Yes, the water is life-giving. But there needs to be something there to take root.
I was right about one thing: I have to create a life that I want before I can share it with someone. I need to take the same advice I gave Hope.
So instead of calling her, I call Ned. He’s a commercial estate agent, and also my primary partner in the pubs, albeit as a silent investor.
“Hey mate,” I say when he answers. “I have a proposal. What if we bought a hotel?”
12SEA CHANGE
Hope
I know that I’m getting fired when Stacy, our firm’s founder and CEO, calls me into their office the second I walk into work on Monday.
I’ve been braced for this and try hard not to panic.You can get a new job, I reassure myself.You can apply for unemployment. It’s for the best.
Stacy is in their late forties, rail thin with a platinum pixie cut and arms always clinking in hammered silver bracelets. They’re a consummate gaming nerd with a popular Slack channel, and the single most powerful publicist in this sector of tech. I haven’t worked with them closely, since they’re Magda’s boss, but I respect them immensely.
Even though this job was not a good fit, I regret they’ll remember me as a fuck-up.
Stacy is all business as they invite me to sit down.
“Hope,” they say, “I’ll get right to the point. While you were away, Magda was terminated for cause.”
It seems I’m not the only person who has noticed that Magda is inconsistent, disrespectful to her employees, and delegates literally all her work to other people. Stacy explains that the Conifer press release that went out latehad actually been Magda’s deliverable—Stacy had reassigned oversight of the whole project to her weeks ago when I got my approval to go on vacation. So when it wasn’t sent out on time, it was Magda who had to account for why—and me being unreachable on vacation was not an acceptable answer.
“It’s become evident you’ve been picking up a lot of slack for her, Hope,” Stacy says. “And I regret that I didn’t notice the problem sooner. I’m impressed by how you’ve handled your workload while covering so much of hers. Your writing is fabulous, you have great contacts, you’ve been securing awesome coverage, and the clients at Conifer love you. So I’m wondering if you’d like the opportunity to step into Magda’s role.”
They explain it would be on an interim basis, as they are required to open the job to outside candidates. “But I see great potential in you, and I’d strongly encourage you to throw your hat in the ring for the permanent position.”
The interim role will come with an increase in responsibilities, but since I was already doing a huge percentage of Magda’s work, it won’t cut into my time that dramatically. And it comes with a substantial bump in pay.
Enough that I could afford to quit tutoring.
It is not, by any means, my dream job.
