Page 5 of Every Broken Piece
Jack takes his time sauntering over to plant his hands on his knees to read the email in question. I watch his eyes go back and forth. The first few lines are enough to get the gist, but of course he has to read the entire thing. Twice.
He straightens. “It appears you have an east coast virtual assistant.”
“What the hell is a virtual assistant? Is that like an AI thing?”
A laugh bursts out of him. “Do you live under a rock? No, it’s not an AI thing. Theresa James is very much a live person.Looks like she’s your assistant. Sounds like a chipper little thing, doesn’t she?”
I growl. “I don’t need chipper. And I especially don’t need a virtual assistant.” I still don’t understand what that is but going by Jack’s laughter I’m not about to ask again. I’m smart. I’ll figure it out. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not hiring a virtual anything.
I pull my laptop back around and skim her email one more time before waving my hand at it. “How the hell have I found myself with a virtual assistant, Jack?” Because this has his handiwork all over it.
He shoves his hands in his jean’s pockets. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing jeans to work, but Jack hasn’t worn a suit in... I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him in a suit. Even client meetings he wears jeans. It’s a fight I’ve learned to let go and the one thing he stands firm on. No suits in the office. Ever.
“I got to thinking about your predicament with your assistants and how two assistants, one for each coast, seemed to be the answer we’re looking for.”
“I don’t remember asking the question.”
He raises a brow. “The empty desk out front is all the question you need. Anyway, the answer came to me the other night. Avirtualassistant is the way to go for you. At least for the east coast. Maybe with distance you won’t offend her and make her quit.”
“Offend? How have I offended my other assistants? I treat them well.”
“Obviously, you don’t.”The thought that I’ve run off my assistants because I’ve inadvertently offended them makes me uncomfortable. I know I’m not an easy guy to work for. I’m demanding. I expect perfection from myself and those I work with, but offensive?
“Okay, maybe offended isn’t the right word here,” Jack says, rocking back on his heels and staring into space like he’s seardhing in the clouds outside for the correct word that would describe my alleged transgressions.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m not using a virtual assistant.”
His gaze jumps back to me and for once he looks serious. He’s not serious very often and it puts me on edge because that means he’s not backing down.
“You need to fix this revolving door of assistants, Gabe. You’re a grumpy bear when you don’t have an assistant, and you hate training new ones.”
I scowl at the grumpy bear comment.
“I just haven’t found the right one.”
He tips his head to my laptop. “Maybe Theresa is the right one.”
She’s not. Just by one email I can tell we wouldn't get along. She’s too... Happy. She’ll drive me insane with her upbeat-rose-colored-glasses outlook on life. “I need someone more serious.”
“What do you have to lose by giving her a try?” he asks.
“I’m not putting the time in to train her just to have to let her go and train someone else.” Or worse, she leaves, and I have to train someone else. I don’t know why her leaving is worse than me letting her go, but it is. I wave at my computer again. “And what is this about a video call?”
Jack crosses his arms and glares at me. “How else are you going to tell her what tasks you need her to do?”
“By email?”
He uncrosses his arms and throws them out to the side. “I don’t get you. You don’t want to email but you also don’t want to video conference and then suggest email, which you said you didn’t want. I’m trying to help you, bro.”
“Don’t call me bro.” He knows I hate that.
His face darkens. Jack is always upbeat. Sometimes too much. Rarely does he display a temper that I know from experience can be intense so when I see the narrowing of his eyes and thinned lips, I brace. “You know what, brother, forget it. I tried to help. You can deal with your assistant problem yourself. Or I guess I should say lack of assistant.”
He turns on his heels to stride out. “Jack,” I say softly, stopping him. But he doesn’t turn back around. “I appreciate the effort, but this VA, AI thing isn’t for me.”
His shoulders lower and he shakes his head, his back still to me. “She’s a real person, Gabe. Behind the email is a real person.”
He walks out, leaving me with her email and the promise of a video conference that I will not be attending.
