Can't Touch This (16 page)

So far this September, I’ve been to Orlando, Tucson, and Atlanta and I’ve racked up a ton of sales leads, as well as frequent flier miles.  Turbulence on the way back from Tucson had me using of the barf bag (thank God I was traveling alone) and two shots of tequila helped me weather the storm down to Atlanta.  I’ve got to find a better way to survive these flights or else I’ll get an ulcer.

But my fatigue pales in comparison to Griz’s woes.

“Quit judging me,” she says, plunging her fingers into her reddish-brown hair.  “Fussing at me is a monumental waste of time.”

Ignoring her, I ask, “How did your foot get run over?”

“Rick and I went out Saturday night to—”

“—I can’t believe how stupid you two are being,” I say with my mouth full of tuna salad.  Course, who am I to talk, sneaking around under the cover of Miami darkness with our sworn corporate enemy.  And napping on an airplane on the Hazel-Eyed Hunk’s shoulder.

She harrumphs.  “As I was saying, we hailed a cab on Lansdowne, but these X’d out college bitches ran in front of us and got into it.  The cab’s back tire ran over my foot and I screamed bloody murder.”

“Griz, you are the poster child for ‘Shit Happens.’”

“I know!  Rick told the driver we were going to sue.  The cabbie drove me to the hospital for free.”

“So, what’s the diagnosis?”

“It’s pretty swollen, but it’ll be fine in about a week.”  Her face falls and it seems like she’s about to lose it.  “I swear to God.  No decent-looking guy is going to ask me out in this condition.”

“Doesn’t seem to bother Rick.”  Because I don’t necessarily want to be privy to Griz breaching company rules, I change the subject.  “So, what have I missed while I’ve been out of the office?”

She takes a bite of her sandwich and her eyes grow large as she chews and quickly swallows.  “Did I tell you Jiles Chancey said if I’m talking to customers then I need diction tapes to get rid of my Chicago accent?”

“Now you know why Jack calls him Little Baby Jesus.”

She waves her hand in the air and dismisses it.  “He’s a jackass.  I’m glad I don’t have to deal with him on a regular basis.”

“Well, I do.”  I take a sip of Diet Coke.  “I was here this weekend putting leads into the sales system and all he could say to me was ‘well, it had to be done, didn’t it?’”

“Why do you push yourself so hard to please him?”

“Because I want Jiles to know I’m a team player and willing to do what’s necessary to get the job done.”

Griz throws her hands up.  “God, I’m so sick of hearing that, Vanessa.  Why does his opinion matter so much to you?”

I sit up straight and pound the table with my fist for emphasis.  “He’s the ultimate authority on everything here at work.”

“This isn’t the only job in town,” she notes.

“Don’t you listen to the news?” I ask.  “The economy is in the crapper.  Unemployment is high and companies aren’t recruiting like they used to.”

“Jiles can’t rule your life like this,” she says, pointing the corner of her sandwich at me.  “It’s just a job.  You’ll have many more before you retire.”

I shake with frustration.  “I still have to prove myself.  Every.  Day.”

Griz says, “Vanessa, you’ve got the job; stop interviewing for it.”

I lower my voice and laser my eyes at her.  “Well,
you
won’t have one for long with your little office tryst.  What’s gotten into you?”

She chews her sandwich and winks.  “Rick’s almost gotten into me.  Maybe on our third date.”

I hold up my hands.  “TMI.  If you’re dating, that’s your business, but I don’t want to be around when you get called into HR for breaking the rules.”

“If it’s true love, then how can it be breaking the rules?”

I can’t believe her
laissez faire
attitude.  Obviously, she doesn’t have the bills that I do; otherwise she’d be more concerned about keeping her job.  I don’t have time for this, though.  Especially after the guilt of having too much fun on the Vegas trip with Kyle and Rick.  I probably wasn’t as professional as I should have been.  Now that I’m back in the office, I’ve got to focus.  First off is the training for the new version of The Director.  It’s out of beta testing and ready to roll to the sales and marketing teams.

When I return from lunch, Jack has other ideas and is distracting me from my professional demeanor.  In the training room, he hands me a sheet of paper with squares drawn in the middle.  Each block contains a buzzword like “synergy,” “core competencies,” “value added” and “win-win.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s secret office bingo.”  He sets his coffee next to the terminal.  “Whenever one of those phrases is used,” he points, “mark the card.  When you get a line filled, you win.”

All right, I’ll admit it.  I love when Jack comes up with activities to take our minds off the corporate meeting blather.  Most of these meetings are meaningless to us anyway.  We’re marketing.  We just enact the plans, get the leads, and dole them out.  No need to play the corporate games.

Kyle walks into the room and our eyes meet.  He looks very focus-driven himself.  I smile, hoping he’ll lighten up.  He’s so much cuter when the dimple shows.

For over an hour, Jiles prattles on about our new iPhone and Android apps that give clients follow-up (hey, that’s a phrase on the bingo card!) information at all times.  He sits on the table.  “We’ll unveil the new features at the tradeshow in San Francisco.”

“But Jiles,” Ted speaks up.  “If I can demo this right now, I’ll have at least four sales this week.”

Scratching his beard, Jiles says, “Not gonna happen, man.  We have to rock and roll in a hot environment.  It’ll be a win-win situation.  We’re doing a big splash in San Fran.  Hold it in your pants a few more days, and then we’ll set the snake free.”

Everyone in the room laughs as I stare in disbelief at the obvious penis reference.

Wait, he said “win-win,” that’s on my bingo card, too.

Jiles continues.  “Due to security and the cost of demo disks, we’re going to pre-qualify the lead
before
a disk goes out.”

“Why don’t we just put it on a secure server online for downloading?” Reagan asks.

“No.  That’s not how I want to do it,” Jiles says.

“Primarily we’re protecting the data’s integrity,” Little Baby Jesus says as he shifts his short legs to the floor.

“I’ve got ‘integrity’,” Jack whispers to me.

Jiles crooks his mouth.  “Bottom line is our procedure is changing.”

I roll my eyes.  At the meeting.  At the discussion.  At the game.  Sending out a demo disk for our software shouldn’t be this complicated.  This is an example of management
not
listening to the workers who probably know best.

Kyle pipes up.  “Excuse me for saying, but this is bullshit.  Customers aren’t going to like this at all, Jiles.”

My head snaps up and I almost gasp noticeably. 
Whoa!
  Boy Wonder just went against the master.  Pride swells in my chest as I watch Kyle step up for the customers, the sales team, hell, for the employees here at DigitalDirection who have to execute this new initiative.

Jiles holds his hands up.  “Lasso the ‘tude Nettles.  I have my reasons.”

Frustration steams off Kyle in a most obvious way.  “Sorry.  Continue.”

Pacing a bit, Jiles says, “A demo disk can be sent to a prospect, but first they must sign a license agreement.”

“What?”

“No way!”

“For a demo?”

“It’ll slow the sales process down tenfold.”

LBJ shouts and stops the cacophony of sales voices declaring their disbelief.  “This isn’t a democracy.  It’s coming from the board.  Each disk will have a registration number and everyone will sign this”—holding up a document—“agreement saying they won’t try to break the code.”

“This is asinine.  Just to look at software?  Most companies allow free demo downloads on their website,” Kyle says firmly, his jaw set in defeat.

Jiles doesn’t blink.  “We don’t want any demo disks of this new version falling into the hands of SalesTracker in particular.”

I immediately think of Rory and I wonder if his sales team has to deal with the same corporate ridiculousness as well.

“Jiles, you know damn well that if SalesTracker wants a copy of our demo, they’ll get it... easily,” Ted interjects.

“We can try to stop them, man,” Jiles says.  “If needed, we’ll arm everyone here with the knowledge of a S.W.A.T. team.”

I shake my head.  Kyle’s right.  This is going to be a bloody nightmare.  If leads are slowed down, it will hinder the entire sales process.  If I’ve learned anything since joining DigitalDirection, it’s that the pipeline of potential customers has to stay full.  And it’s marketing’s job to see to that.  My job.

I peer across at Kyle who is taking assiduous notes on iPad.  He runs his hand through his thick hair and slumps in his chair.  Our eyes hook up and he shakes his head slightly.

Jiles wraps up.  “It’ll all work out to enhance our bottom line for value added benefits.  Now, everyone get back to your training.”

As Jiles leaves the room, Jack leans in and stage whispers, “Value added put me over the top.  Bingo!”

I brush him off.  “Like that was hard.”

Our trainer, Morgan stands up and starts working through the new bells and whistles of The Director.  I try to follow along, but all I can think about is the InfoTech Show.  Five thousand attendees will be at San Francisco’s famed Moscone Center.  It’s a lot of pressure now that we’re unveiling the new version.  A lot of continued publicity and marketing, which Jack and I have been diligently working on in preparation for the show and the launch.  I’ll need our top sales people to help pull off this show.  And even though I’ve got plans for the all-important third date with Rory, I know the only way to have total success for the launch there’s only one person who can really make it happen.

The training wraps up and I gather all of my notes.  Kyle stops and holds the door for me and I step through, our hands brushing accidentally.  My insides ache for a moment and I know it’s best to make distance.

“Everything will work out.”  He winks and turns down the opposite aisle.  His confidence is infectious.  Somehow I know everything will be okay.

At my desk, I notice my voice mail light is on.  It’s probably Griz calling to say she fell out the window or something.

I press “1” to play the new message and gasp when I hear, “Hey, Vanessa.  It’s Rory.”  I snag the receiver, taking it off speaker.  The message continues.  “I can’t wait to see you.”  He pauses and I swear my breathing stops to take in the meaning of his words.  I get a tingly feeling hearing his deep voice.  “Hey, I heard there’s a new version of The Director.  Maybe you can give me a demo?  Call or e-mail and let me know.”

Here I thought I was going to use him to get information and now he wants to see
our
demo.  Maybe I should simply steer clear of business talk with him altogether.  DigitalDirection doesn’t need me dabbling in any kind of subterfuge or intrigue.  I don’t want to be disloyal to my company, but I don’t want to be rude to Rory.  Won’t he be able to see a demo if he simply hangs around our booth?  Or will
he
have to sign the new license agreement?

I start to call, but my palms get sweaty and I don’t know what to say.  I want to discuss our kisses, our touches, not our software.  But Rory’s a rule breaker.  He likes to win.  And while I admire that, I don’t want to be a bump in his road to success.

I send him an e-mail instead:

Sorry I missed your call.  Perhaps we can arrange a private viewing of the software?

What a tart, I think, as I re-read the unsent message.  Maybe not.  I delete the last line and type,
When do you get in town?

An hour later, his response reads: 
I’ll be in Thursday.  Can’t wait to see you.  R
.

Relief cascades over me.  He’s not talking business; he’s talking us.  Maybe he was merely using it as an excuse to e-mail.  Yeah, that’s it.  It won’t jeopardize my position to hang out with him—when no one else is around—and explore these niggling feelings I’ve got.  No one needs to know.

One of the tech guys drops off a CD-ROM demo disk.

“I need you to sign the license agreement,” he says, handing me a form.

“Are you kidding me?”

Humorless bastard that he is, he flattens his mouth.  “Rules are rules.”

“I work here.” I say quickly.

“Either sign it and get your disk or take it up with Jiles Chancey.”

“Fine.”  I scribble my signature, Hollywood star style, and hand it back to the guy.  Jiles has just made working here even more difficult.

The things we’ll do for a paycheck.

“I’
m not going
down there, Wills,” I shout out across the apartment Tuesday evening as I pack for San Fran.

“Vanessa, don’t be such a pussy,” he says.

“I can’t help it.  Sort of comes naturally.”

I tread down the hall to William’s room and flop on his bed.  He’s stretched out in boxers and the Paris Las Vegas T-shirt I’d brought him from my trip, reading “Pride and Prejudice.”

“Why are you washing your slinky underwear?”  He digs through the pile in my arms and produces a see-through pair of panties.  “Is it because of that gorgeous guy from Cuchi Cuchi?

“Who?  Kyle?”

“Yeah, Kyle,” he mocks in girly voice.  “The one with the killer body and gorgeous eyes.

Yep, that would be Kyle.  “He’s just a co-worker.  Nothing more.”  I don’t care what Griz thinks she’s doing with Rick.  Rules are rules and
I’m
not breaking them.

“Uh-huh... sure.  Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, that’s all you talk about.”

First Griz, now William.  All I want is to get my clothes cleaned so I can finish packing for my trip.  “William, please.  I can’t go down into that basement.”

“Just do it for her,” Mia shouts through the bedroom wall.

I lay my head on William’s shoulder.  “Oh, all right.  How many loads do you have?”

“Two.”  I try not to gloat.  “You’re a doll.”

As William heads for the basement, I continue packing.  Okay, maybe I have selected the best underwear sets.  I’ve got my new black lace bra and thong panties—which feel like dental floss up the butt—and my black one-piece hold-everything-in-place thingy with the snaps between the legs (for smoothing out purposes.)