Page 5 of Love Off the Rocks
Yep, that’s gone. Long gone.
Chaz and the driver spend the entire forty-five-minute drive to the cabin discussing the merits of hunter class versus warlock class on some Xbox game called Destiny. In case you are wondering, most people prefer to be in the hunter class because Xbox clearly caters to them. But the warlock class is obviously superior if you pay attention to anything at all.
As we pull up at the cabin, all I can do is hope that the karma gods see fit to bless me with a quiet room that I don’t have to share and a weekend filled with new co-workers who value hard work and determination that same as I do. And while I’m at it, none of those stupid team building exercises to build trust among us. Those never work. And absolutely, positively, no surprises.
I hate surprises.
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Dev
“How does it feel to be the big boss?” Brittni slinks up to me as she asks the question. She hasn’t stopped following me around since I got this promotion a month ago. You’re looking at the National Vice President of Subscriber Enrollment and Retention. A title so long and convoluted, it doesn’t even fit on one line beneath my name on my new business cards. Nor does it fit with my new duties, which so far seem to be more about employee satisfaction than customer retention, but it’s one that I’m excited about anyway.
“I gotta be honest, it feels good, Brittni. This retreat is a great idea, and I’m excited about creating some real synergy and cooperation. You know, open the lines of communication and really nail down where we are looking to go as a company.”
I wince internally at how corporate I sound. Five years ago, I would have hated myself for it. But somehow, I’ve melded into this person who spews the company idioms with ease. And, surprisingly, I don’t hate it so much any longer.
“I knew you were going to get the promotion,” she says, smiling. “I read it in the cards before they announced it. Plus, it was written all over your aura; it’s so commanding.” She rubs her hands along my biceps, which is a move from a girl I’d normally like since I workout daily for them. But when she does it, I feel dirty.
“Just like I knew we were going to absorb the Seattle company. I could have told you about it. And I would have except you’ve been so busy lately; I hardly ever see you.” She pouts, her full bottom lip sticking out like a child’s. Her voice is breezy, but the underlying tone is not. Brittni will be the first to tell you she’s a go-with-the-flow kind of girl, but in reality, it’s only if the flow is already going in the direction she wants.
“We see each other every day at work.” I know where she’s heading with this conversation, and I don’t like it. She’s asked me out countless times and I’ve said no each time. But still, she persists. At one point telling me we are soul mates who are meant to be together.
“This takeover—”
“Merger,” I interrupt.
“Is taking all your time.”
Our company has absorbed a smaller one headquartered on the West Coast—Seattle to be exact. I’m responsible for bringing the separate sales and marketing teams together into one cohesive unit. This retreat is meant to help that process along so that when we return to our respective locations, we can still be doing so, just on opposite coasts.
“Anyway,” Brittni shakes her hair and fluffs the sides. “I’m so excited about everything we are going to learn. How many new people will we meet? What are you going to have us do first? Will you save me a seat next to you?” She prattles off questions she doesn’t even wait for answers on. I’m not sure if she wants to talk to me or just hear herself speak. Either way, I’m growing weary of it.
She tried to maneuver a seat next to me every step of the way here. We’ve just arrived at the mountain cabin after an early flight from JFK to Olympia and then a long, winding van ride here. Somewhere in the Olympic National Forest, we will spend three days team building and brainstorming how to grow the company brand.
It’s not all seat mates and soul mates with Brittni though, she also wants my old job. And she wants me to recommend her for it. But I’m not going to. That honor is going to my buddy, Sam.
Because he deserves it, he works his ass off and doesn’t rely on big tits with low-cut shirts to get attention (read: Brittni), and he’ll make an excellent manager. Technically, I’m supposed to include candidates from the Seattle office, too, hence the trip and getting to know them all. But I already know Sam can do the job, so he’s my pick. To save morale on this trip, I will refrain from announcing it until after we go back to NYC. But I need to be ready to pick a second in command for the West Coast.
Before heading into the cabin, I check out the surroundings—thousands of mature evergreens and firs in every direction. And dozens of other tree varietals I don’t recognize on sight. It’s breathtaking and serene.
There are parts of Central Park that are like this, beautiful and green, at least in the late spring and summer, but nothing that smells like this. It smells clean, like nothing but air. No smog, no diesel fumes, no trash, no restaurant grease. Just air. My lungs feel fuller, and my mind is at peace for the first time in a long while.
This is going to be a great trip, and I plan to make sure of it. My team deserves it, and the team joining us deserves it. Though three days might not be much, I hope it's long enough to build bonds between the two coasts and create a bicoastal synergy that usually only exists in closer-knit groups.
Being near Seattle reminds me of my ex from college. She’s been on my mind non-stop since I knew we’d be coming here. I don’t even know if she’s in Seattle, but that was her plan at one point in our lives. I toyed with trying to track her down so I could call her or see her. Maybe even staying a few extra days on personal time off to catch up.
Problem is, I can’t imagine she wants to see me. She’s the one who got away. Well, not so much got away as left me and never looked back. I can’t blame her entirely. I changed the plan. She didn’t.
We met our junior year in college, one of those “lust at first sight” situations in a bar. I took her home with me that night, then didn’t let her leave.
I couldn’t.
After that first night, I was smitten.
And she was too, even if she wasn’t as open about it as I was. For the next two years, we were inseparable. Since we were graduating, we devised a plan for how to spend the summer after. Driving across the US, stopping at every cheesy tourist spot we could find: Carhenge, Enchanted Highway, Cadillac Ranch, Flintstone’s Bedrock City, World’s Biggest Ball of Yarn, Dinosaur World, Roswell—we had a lengthy list. The plan was to end up in Seattle, WA, where her family is from, and get amazing tech jobs with a big software company or online retailer.
She’d planned every minute of the trip in her spare time, right down to mileage and gas usage, where to camp, where to waste time, and how to make the time back up. She was a planner and stuff like that made her happy: charts, graphs, highlighters, pens. The only girl I’ve ever met who thought a new pen was a romantic gift. Not even a decent writing instrument, mind you, just a pen. Sometimes, the cheesier the better.
