Page 12 of Red Flags and Rishtas
I’m so screwed.
‘I would ask Ryan to help you, but he’s taken a sick leave,’ she said, referring to the only other person in the events team.
I nodded at her, trying to swallow the wave of panic rising in my throat before it made itself known to the outside world.
‘No problem.’
She left my side and made her way back to her office, strutting confidently in her heeled sandals. I knew I should’ve said something to hint that I didn’t have any new event ideas– nothing that the international team would approve, anyway. But I wasn’t ready to see what telling the truth would cost me. Appraisals were two short months away, and I’d been here too long and had worked too hard to let something stupid like this ruin my chances at a promotion.
I had to get this done. There was no other way. Trying to think of a completely new idea was too overwhelming, so I started with the easy bits. I went through each of the fifteen slides, fact-checking, proofreading, adding stronger visuals and specific stats wherever necessary. It took me around two hours to upgrade the presentation from a C+ to an A-. The improvement was apparent, but I knew it wouldn’t count for much without a unique event idea.
I opened my desk drawer, shuffling the pile of unstacked papers to look for the approved events line-up for the year. It didn’t reveal anything new – just the same five editorial events TMJ had added to its calendar over the last three years. I knew them by heart, of course. The Entertainment Gala, Fashion Forward, Sports Hour, Biz Kids and, our latest addition, The Influencer Awards. I pinned the list on the board in front of me, next to a Polaroid of Vrinda and me.
Instinctively, I reached for my phone and dialled her number. I knew she was supposed to be helping her mother out at her bridal wear boutique down in Shahpur Jat, but I hoped she’d be able to talk.
She picked up on the fourth ring.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ she asked. Her voice was distant, like she’d put me on speaker. I could hear her rustling garments in the background.
‘I’m in dire need of inspiration,’ I said, my desperation seeping through the phone.
‘I wish I could help, dude. But I’m kind of in the middle of a whole thing.’
I played with the retractable ballpoint pen in my hand, clicking and unclicking as I listened to the faint sound of V shouting at someone on the other end.
‘You okay? What’s happening?’ I asked when she was done.
‘Don’t ask, babe. One of Mom’s friends’ daughters is getting married, and she wants us to do the wedding outfits,’ she said, then added, ‘like all of them … for the entire family.’
‘Wow,’ I said, ‘that’s a lot of outfits.’
‘Tell me about it. Mom is super stressed coz our designer Kritika is on leave for the whole week to attend her brother’s wedding,’ she said. I could almost hear her frowning through the phone.
‘So many weddings, that’s crazy,’ I said, looking up as an intern handed me my iced coffee.
Generally, I didn’t like ordering the interns around, especially for coffee runs, but I was running incredibly short on time today. A trip to the pantry was a waste of time, much like this phone call was turning out to be.
‘Seriously …’ she said, taking the phone off speaker, ‘it’s like weddings are all anybody cares about these days.’
I consoled her for a few seconds before hanging up, assuring her that we’d celebrate our long, unfair Mondays with a glass of wine later.
Now that I was back to square one, I began scribbling in my handmade notebook. The trick, I knew, was to put myself in our consumers’ shoes. What were the men of today interested in? Our existing editorial events already covered everything, be it music, movies, sports, business or social media. Plus, we had a series of car launches coming up for the branded section. So what was I missing?
I got a brain freeze as I took a large sip from my iced coffee, and something from the conversation with V came back to me.
Weddings are all anybody cares about.
Men, too, right?
‘Vrinda, you’re a genius,’ I said out loud as the coffee finally began doing its job, and I felt the engine of my brain coming to life.
Putting the ‘Best Man’ idea in the PPT was a risk, I was aware of that. So when Pooja rang me on my intercom and asked me to ‘bring my ass down to her office’, I knew I had fucked up.
As I walked past the line of cubicles to her glass cabin, I just prayed for her to be in a good mood. My boss had a reputation for being moody, and in the past, I’d gotten away with far worse and had been screamed at for way less.
She motioned for me to come inside when I knocked on her door, and I walked up to the chair in front of her desk, knowing better than to sit. I waited for her to look at me, but her head was buried in her laptop. She didn’t say anything for what felt like a few million years, and the silence was so absolute that I was afraid to swallow too loudly.
‘Okay, I’m going to need you to explain this wedding thing to me,’ she said, finally looking up.
