Page 17 of All the Drama from New York

But this thing. This computer program. It might as well have been written in Ancient Aramaic for all that she understood. Life shouldn’t have to be this complicated.

Camille gritted her teeth. As frustrating as it was, she had no other choice but to try and get her head around Hope’s multi-colored nightmare. She didn’t want to call Bryce, not until she had at least attempted to unravel the mysteries of the planning system.

I hate feeling incompetent around him.

Her cousin would no doubt offer to help, but her pride would pay the price.

Hope couldn’t have picked a worse time to resign. The extra workload Camille would need to take on in the three months leading up to Fashion Week in mid-September was going to see her already overextended calendar stretched to its limits. But not having a PA would likely break her.

Her latest fashion line with Saks Fifth Avenue was selling particularly well. The eager store buyers were already asking for more product lines to keep the customers coming back.

On top of that were the two full seasonal catalogues which she was already committed to delivering between now and the end of the year. Thankfully those garments were designed and on the manufacturers production schedule, but overseas supply chains were not always reliable, and had to be carefully managed. A task usually handled with cool efficiency by Hope.

She could use those new pieces in her runway show, but fashion week would also want some extra unique pieces.

Camille held her hands to her face, and let out a groan. “I can design clothes forever but this thing…urgh. I don’t understand how it works. And I hate it.”

She could have sworn the horrible thing swam in front of her eyes.

What she would give to be able to punch the computer screen. To make excel understand that no matter what horrible things it threw at her, she was not going to be its bitch.

“Right. So green means we have booked the work, but not completed it. Dark green means. Oh!”

She threw up her hands, and shot to her feet. Her ergonomic desk chair rocked across the floor. Four solid hours of trying to figure out how this monstrosity of a planning spreadsheet actually worked, and Camille was ready to toss her laptop out the window. And then jump out after it.

A lack of sleep wasn’t helping. She would love to talk to a friendly voice and vent her frustrations. Misery shared was misery halved. But none of that would help with her current predicament.

“What I really need right now is someone who understands this horrible program and can take this spreadsheet off my hands.”

But she was no quitter. Before she handed the document over to someone else, she had to have mastered it. If she didn’t, she might well find herself in this very same predicament again at some point. And only a fool didn’t heed the lesson of measuring twice before cutting.

It would be so easy to call the accounting team at Royal Resorts and get one of them to come over and help. But she resisted. There was a pattern of behavior she had to break.

Task too hard. Call Bryce’s people.

Don’t want to learn a new skill. Call Bryce’s people.

Convenience had long ago turned into a crutch. Little Miss Independent had become Little Miss Helpless.

I have to learn to stand on my own two feet. This is my company, my future.

Camille’s cell phone buzzed, and her hopes flared to life. Could her former PA have suddenly had a crisis of guilt and decided to call?

Please. Please. Please let it be Hope.

She picked it up, but as she read the name on the screenKARL’s FABRIC EMPORIUM, all her hopes of being rescued from the evil of excel quickly died.

Karl Thomas was one of her major fabric suppliers who operated out of a small store on Broadway.

“Hi Karl. How are you?”

“Oh my gosh Cami, your voice sounds so flat. Are you sick or did you eat a stack of pity pancakes for breakfast? Where is the sassy siren I’m so used to dealing with?”

Camille softly muttered, “Merde”. There was no avoiding it, word of Hope’s defection would get out soon enough. “Sorry Karl, but my reserves of sass are at an all-time low. Hope called me in the early hours of this morning to tell me she was resigning effective immediately.”

Saying the words out loud made the wall of misery which surrounded Camille press in on her.

“What? I thought the two of you were a tight team. Did you have a falling out?”

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