Reaching Lily. Vivacia Ahwen K
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but scared.
‘We so fucked up,’ Gwen said, as we trotted down the hall toward Conference Room Three.
‘I fucked up. You came and found me. And made me get on the train.’
‘True story.’ She gestured towards the door. ‘That means you go in first, buttercup.’
‘Yeah, OK.’ I surreptitiously opened the door of the conference room, where Mr Colossimo was holding court. He stopped, mid-sentence, and his bloated face was less than welcoming.
‘Ladies,’ he said, voice dripping with Mean Old Man sarcasm. ‘So glad you could join us.’
All heads turned – because late-comers who make the punctuality of others look awesome are fascinating – but our mumbled apologies were ignored by all-powerful Mr Colossimo. He cleared his rattly, jowly throat and continued. ‘As I began to say, by way of introduction: on my left is Joey Danforth, a.k.a. “New Kid On the Block”.’
He delivered that with ‘air quotes’, of course, and there was fake chuckling around the long table. What a bunch of suckups. But the heat was off Gwen and me now, and 35 curious faces took a look at the nervous new gofer, thankful for the distraction and reprieve.
‘Joey’s joining the Apollyon HR team, so Joey is always ready to –’ Mr Colossimo looked quickly at his legal pad ‘– lend an ear. Maybe he’s the “New Kid”, but we’re the – hold on.’ We waited while he looked back at his notes. ‘Funky bunch.’
Did Mr Colossimo really need to check his notes for this unfunny patter? Jesus. I hated him in a very unwholesome way right then. Anyway, poor Joey The New Kid. I waited for Gwen to text me. Sure enough:
new guy jo=totaly mark walbrg, undrcvr, RIGHT ;)
While adorable, Joey Danforth was no Marky-Mark. Really, Gwen. Luckily my phone was on vibrate.
Under the table I typed back:
STFU&no more txt
‘Dawna Jamison, tell us about the DVDs.’ Mr Colossimo gave a full-denture smile, or his closest reasonable facsimile. The attempt looked more as though he were gritting his falsies. ‘It seems we’ve had a good month?’
Dawna was in marketing. She seemed cool, far as I was concerned, though Gwen called her Team Slut. But when Gwen got all snarky on coworkers like Dawna, who came and went, I always said, ‘Not a slut, she just likes suggestive clothing.’ Trashing other girls isn’t my thing. For the most part.
Seeing as, if one were to be fair, I might have fallen into the slut category.
A slut on hiatus, but a slut nevertheless.
A secret slut.
‘Fabulous,’ Dawna Jamison said, beaming. ‘The Golden Ticket for the Pretty’n Pink free weights we put out with Joni Smith’s “Lite-Weight-Late-Nite-She-Bop”? It was retro-brilliant?’
Please ask me how much I like it when people end a statement with a question mark.
‘Go on?’ Mr Colossimo hunched forward on fisty, meaty knuckles, Denny Craning his neck.
‘Two birds with one stone,’ she said, smiling at us, ‘because what we started calling those “Freer-Than-Free-Weights” weren’t exactly flying off the shelves before this month? Like as soon as the video came out? Well, not to toot my own horn?’
Hmm. I mean, HMMM? For the record, I came up with the Willy Wonka concept, which was so not part of my job, and wrote the copy. Gwen designed the Golden Ticket and made it look all awesome. Basically if you bought the speed yoga DVD, you got a free set of pink dumbbells, and then a discount on all future free weight purchases. For the double record? Me, myself and I wrote the workout ‘You go, girl’
Sorry, we all have our sticking points. I worked so hard to sell Apollyon shit, yet never so much as saw my name in a pretty font in the rolling credits. Furthermore, Ms Famous Fitness Guru Joni Smith miscounted reps. Now, I’ve done that speed yoga/free weight workout. Fuck, from the hours I spent in front of the flatscreen (refuse gym, prefer private fitness, despite the awesome bennies and personal trainer all Apollyonians have as an option), I knew from what. Learn to count, Joni.
Jealous, much, Lily? Why, yes, I was.
‘Great,’ said Mr Colossimo, his booming voice bringing me back to earth. ‘Let’s start putting those Golden Tickets in all the DVDs.’
Whatevz.
‘Let’s not forget about the killer copy on the back cover, and the script, which was occasionally forgotten by Joni Smith. Or rather, set aside by Joni Smith, if we want to give her the benefit of the doubt,’ piped up Jay-Jay Tanaka. Jay-Jay was the most agreeable fellow in my department. He loved me to death, for no reason that I could fathom. ‘Lily, your writing was nothing short of scrumptious.’
‘Jay-Jay,’ I mumbled, and wished he would stop. I was fine with Mr Colossimo refusing to remember my name, or ever having the word scrumptious planted in his mind regarding anything about any part of me.
‘Lily, you are the goddess of copy.’ Jay-Jay shoved his black-rimmed glasses up his small nose. ‘And, if memory serves, the Golden Ticket was your idea.’
I winked at him, while clearing my throat. Jay-Jay had never said a word at any of our meetings before. Apparently that was a wise decision, if this was his idea of how to conduct himself around a conference table. ‘Thanks, Jay-Jay.’
‘Since we currently have no creative director, coming up with ideas is every department’s job. We don’t have time to be patting ourselves on the back.’ Mr Colossimo gave me a brief glance. ‘You’re all Idea Men, now.’
Wow, really? I was an Idea Man. Just what every girl wants to be. Jesus. Why did Jay-Jay have to open his big gay mouth?
I ask that politically incorrect rhetorical question with total love and affection, btw.
‘Before we get on to other business, I need to tell you quickly why I called this meeting for nine, rather than ten. I apologise if it inconvenienced any of you –’ his eyes shot daggers at Gwen and me ‘– but there are about to be some changes around the office, not all of which are to my liking. And if they’re not to my liking, chances are they won’t be to yours, either.’
I sat up higher in my chair, already liking the ‘changes’ that supposedly wouldn’t be to my liking. Oh, boy! Maybe Mr Colossimo was going to take another one-month leave of absence to a ‘health club,’ also known as the psych ward, and get some shock-treatment therapy. Boo-ya! It had happened twice since I started at Apollyon. I reckoned he was due for another breakdown.
Yes, my boss was certifiable.
‘Apparently, Corporate is talking about me behind my back,’ he continued.
Here we go. Paranoia is how it all begins. Monday was improving with every passing minute.
‘They’re sending one of their “guys” from Denver to come see what we’re doing “wrong” –’ he gestured a few more air quotes ‘– and “suggest” some “changes”. Meaning, tell us how to do our jobs.’
Lots of serious nods and murmurs of ‘How could they?’ ‘How dare they?’
‘Well, team Apollyon, I say we’re doing just fine.’ He paused, looked at us and thumped a rather flaccid fist upon the marble tabletop. ‘Can I have a round of applause for the May numbers? There was only the slightest drop. Slightest. Marginal, even. As opposed to April’s slightly more than minor setback. Which was a mistake in the books, in my humble opinion. Which,