Page 97 of Pride and Protest
“Ms. Bennett, you are popular today.”
“Every day,” Liza corrected. “This is the third-highest-rated show in the region.”
“Yes, well, about that. It seems like the radio station is going in a different direction.”
“So I’ve heard.” Liza scratched at the table graffiti.
“We plan to start our station rebranding in the next few months, and your brand is just a little outside our tent of offerings,” Pantsuit said.
“What exactly are your offerings? Christmas music in October? Top 40 adult contemporary?”
“Now, Liza, I understand your frustration—”
“Frustration! Why am I always the only person who gives a damn, and nobody gives a damn about me?”
“I know this is hard news, but everyone is feeling the crunch. You’re internalizing a simple business transaction that’s not personal at all.”
“I’m curious if these lines really work for you. When you say ‘don’t take it personally’ and ‘it’s just business,’ do people really just dry their eyes and perk up?” Liza was shaking.
“Well—”
“What sense does that make when someone is losing their job?” Liza’s mic swiveled and nearly hit Pantsuit in the face. She hopped back and straightened her suit. Liza pressed her nails into her palms.
“I’ll just leave you to collect your things,” Pantsuit said quietly.
The door closed with a soft click, and Liza threw her headphones into the cluttered corner. Everyone was right about her, and she had been wrong about everything. What had she gained for sticking her neck out? Liza’s mind tumbled forward into the inevitable conversation with her mother. She would sigh. It would be impossible for her to pass up the chance to say “I told you so.” Her brother and LeDeya would laugh behind their hands. Granny would shake her head.
She had been blinded by WIC’s charm, but she had doneactual work on that proposal, and she deserved to be paid for it. She’d been avoiding WIC, but if she could get a small fee for her work, it could hold her over until she got an inevitable office temp job. It was time for her to get real about her future. If she wanted to do international human aid, she would start where she was—improving the city block by block.
OFF THE RAILS
From: [email protected]
Sharon, this is my third time reminding you that DFitz and DFatz are two different accounts. I have not had the board meeting yet, but I appreciate the company’s speculation about my job security.
I hear we’ve put an intern on suspension for excessive tardies. After investigation, I found that he lost his apartment and now has to make it here from Jersey every morning. Reverse this suspension immediately. And let’s try to supplement his train ticket or flex his hours. In the future, I would like us to be more thoughtful in our punitive approach to changes in work performance.
Respectfully,
D
Ten men and one woman sat with lips pursed and arms folded around a polished oak table. The weather was warm, butthe temperature inside the boardroom was glacial. No one fidgeted, no one coughed into their sleeve, no one reached for the carafe of coffee on the table. They sat in stony, unified silence as he reported the lack of movement on the Netherfield properties. He was launching into reason number seven why permits had been blocked and agreements were unsigned.
“Dorsey, look, this thing has gone off the rails. My grandkids are showing me memes of you and that rabble-rouser every time I turn around. You brought her to our gala?”
“Her grandmother’s garden—”
“You brought her and danced with her. You looked like a damned fool out there.”
“Don’t you see she is turning the tide of public opinion? Do you see she is winning?” a dark-haired man said.
“She has you right where she wants you,” Hampden warned. “Which is why we did a little digging.” He slid a manila folder toward Dorsey.
The other board members eyed one another warily. “Hampden, we agreed not to do this,” one began.
“Sorry, but it’s gone too far,” Hampden said. “We were able to chat with Liza Bennett’s sister’s ex, who says that the sister is a mentally unstable alcoholic. Moreover, her mother has quite the reputation for sleeping with married men. My grandkids know how to turn some photos of her into memes so that it seems organic.”
