Page 28 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

But the distant chime of her phone again snaps her back. She withdraws, her fingers slipping from mine, leaving a phantom heat that travels up my arm and settles somewhere south of my belt, just as my ‘dinner date’ glances at her phone and sighs.

I smirk. “Family obligations wait for no one.”

Mackenzie steps into the car but pauses, turning back toward me, her eyes lingering. “Goodnight, Alex.”

“Goodnight, Mac.”

She disappears inside, and I shut the door. Takes me several seconds of watching the car drive off before I go to my own.

Pulling away from the restaurant, I try not to let the evening replay in my mind.

But that’s hard to do.

Especially when my phone is buzzing at the traffic lights.

Grayson again.

GRAYSON:So? Bachelor pact status report required. On a scale from 'still safely single' to 'buying rings,' how screwed are you?

I set the phone aside without answering.

The bachelor pact has stood for twenty years. I plan on it standing for another twenty more—at least.

I turn the Rolls toward home, Seattle's rain beginning again in earnest, washing the city clean for a new day.

Tomorrow, I'll start to make good on my promises to Mac.

But tonight, driving through the slushy streets, I allow myself to consider that perhaps the most dangerous revolution Mac Gallo has started isn't in my company.

It's in my perception of what ‘change’ might look like.

Tightening my grip on the steering wheel, I brush the thought away, refocusing back on the business.Mybusiness. The only thing that matters here.

9

THE TRUTH ABOUT TRUST

MACKENZIE

Another lesson learned as Corporate Culture Consultant? Never launch an anonymous employee feedback program unless you're ready to learn exactly how your coworkers feel about everything from the coffee machine to that time Brad from Accounting cried during the quarterly review.

After my dinner with Alex, work goes back to “normal.” Or some version of it, at least.

It’s only been two weeks since I launched the online survey and already the mailbox is full.

"These can't all be real complaints." I scroll through the latest batch of responses, each more colorful than the last. "Someone actually wrote 'the ping pong table is an instrument of capitalist oppression'?"

"That was probably Keith Frampton from DevOps." Lucia sorts through another stack of printed feedback forms. "He's been reading a lot of Marx lately."

We're camped out in my office, drowning in half a month’s worth of anonymous feedback from Drake Enterprises employees.Turns out, when you give people a truly anonymous way to vent, they really go for it.

"Oh, here's a good one." Lucia clears her throat. "'The meditation cushions give me existential dread. Also, Brian keeps stealing my lunch from the break room fridge. I know it's you, Brian. I saw you eating my lasagna.'"

"At least they're being specific." I add it to the spreadsheet I'm building. Two hundred and seventeen complaints about the meditation cushions so far. "Any actual useful feedback in your pile?"

"Actually, yes." She hands me a form. "Multiple reports of managers taking credit for women's ideas in meetings. Complete with dates and examples."

I scan the document, anger building. "Add it to the systemic issues folder."

---