Page 113 of All's Well that Friends Well
Marketing is only three people, but they all show up too, and soon the seven of them are seated around the table, looking at each other every now and then but not speaking.
“Is this everyone?” I say, inspecting the table. “I think so.”
When several nods confirm this, I speak again. “All right. Thank you for joining us. As per my earlier email, I’d like to discuss what our sales and marketing tactics will look like moving forward.”
From the end of the table, Dell raises one trembling hand. I nod at him, and he clears his throat. “Are we being let go?” he says.
I shrug, trying to relax my shoulders instead of keeping them tense. “I hope not,” I say. “But that’s something we need to talk about.” I look around at them. My eyes find Juliet off to the side, although she’s not hard to see out of my peripheral vision; she’s wearing pink and yellow today, bright and cheerful. There’s a prim headband in her hair that I want to remove, just to see her hair waterfall over her face?—
Heat creeps up my neck as I realize how distracted I’m getting, standing here staring at my assistant. She gives me asmall, encouraging smile, which somehow gives me the strength to look back at my employees. I sigh.
“I need to be honest with you all,” I say. I allow myself to pace rather than keeping my body rigid with frustration. “Speaking frankly, we can’t carry on the way we’ve been going. Our branch is lagging behind, and we haven’t met our targets in over a year and a half.” I pause and then drop the bomb. “The Denver office will relocate this office if we’re running at a deficit. Or at very least, they’ll replace personnel. I’m sorry,” I go on, louder now to counter the mutters breaking out around the table, “I truly am, but that’s where things stand right now.”
I wait silently until the murmurs have ceased, and then I start again. “I understand I haven’t made the best impression here. I apologize for that. But please believe that I want us all to be able to keep our jobs here, because this is a great place to work. I don’t want anyone to lose that.” Then, looking around the table, I add, “Any thoughts so far?”
One of the girls from the sales team clears her throat. “Is it really that bad?” she says in a timid voice.
“It is,” I say firmly. “Our numbers have improved, but they’re still not where they need to be. And if a team of employees is consistently underperforming, that team will need to improve, or they’ll be replaced. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth.”
When no one else speaks, I continue. “We’ve thought of a few ideas, but we’ll need our consistent efforts as well. For example, a report was sent to all work accounts last week, concerning the updated needs of Lucky’s citizens. Did anyone read that?”
One lone hand rises—Dell. Everyone else avoids my gaze, shifting guiltily.
I clench my jaw and swallow my anger. “This is what we mean. Basic practices aren’t being observed. Please read your emails thoroughly. I know work mail isn’t fun, but from here on out you should come to the office every day with the assumption that your job is on the line. All right?”
A flurry of head nods, downturned eyes, and guilty expressions.
“Right,” I say, the word coming out snappishly. “Everyone needs to read that report today. Marketing”—I turn to the cluster of them—“I would like three campaign ideas on my desk by the end of the week. Sales, coordinate with our sister locations. Reach out to places we’ve supplied in the past. Focus on the data about what Lucky citizens want from a store like ours. Organize an expanded system for rentals. Get in touch with wholesalers about sunscreen and sunglasses, because the data showed people would buy those at the same time as things like bikes and kayaks and life vests. Understood?”
The sales team all nod their heads, their eyes wide. I pause, trying to remember if there’s anything else I need to say, but I think I’ve covered it. So I step aside and gesture to Juliet, who hurries up to stand next to me.
“Hi,” she says, her voice chipper and bright. “Let me tell you a little bit about the Employee of the Month program we’re instituting.”
“I was not madefor things like this,” I say wearily as I close my office door behind me, Juliet already headed for my leather couch.
“I know,” she says, the words sympathetic. “But it’s sort of in your job description. And you did so well!”
I grunt and make my way toward my desk, but I freeze in place when there’s a knock at my door. The blinds rattle as I turn around, just in time to see Rodney entering the office.
“Rod!” Juliet says, beaming at him. She hurries to his side and hooks one hand around his elbow, looking not at all surprised to see him.
I, on the other hand, have no idea what’s going on. “What’s this?” I say, gesturing blankly as he and Juliet shuffle over to the couch. “Why are you here?”
He doesn’t speak as he lowers himself into his seat, Juliet still by his side. Once he’s sitting, she straightens up and looks at me. She inhales awkwardly through her teeth, and then her expression shifts into something pleading.
“I invited him,” she blurts out. “But—but!—he asked me how you were doing earlier,” she goes on, the words spilling out of her, “and I told him you were doing so good!”
I sigh. I can’t be upset, because all this means is that she did her job. But I still find myself glowering at Rod.
“Anyway, he said he’d love to come see how things were going for himself,” Juliet goes on, her voice as bright as her lemon-yellow shirt, “and I told him he should come to our afternoon meeting!” Then she turns to Rod, beaming and tucking a few strands of blonde behind her ear. “Were you just outside the door? Didn’t he do well? He sent a really great email this morning too.”
Rod’s been looking at Juliet with faint amusement, but now he turns his eyes on me, his gaze sparking with something like interest and satisfaction. “I was outside the door. And he did do well,” he says to Juliet.
She nods, still smiling. “The email was very kind, and he’s been saying hello to people and remembering their names and everything. Although,” she adds, her smile vanishing as she turns an uncharacteristically sassy look toward me. “You should already be doing those things, you know? It’s not hard.”
Rodney snorts. “I agree, young lady. I told him the same thing. But it takes a while to get things through that thick skull of his.”
“I’m feeling distinctly ganged-up on,” I mutter.
