Chapter 6: She Got the Promotion, I Got Her Number
The announcement lands, the rivalry resolves and the glass wall finally has something to say for itself.
Subject: Leadership Announcement: Congratulations to the New Director of Strategy I will tell you the ending, because I have the sort of face that gives it away anyway. It was me. Director of Strategy, effective the first of the month, a title I had been circling for six years like a woman trying to parallel park. The announcement went out at 10:03 a.m. By 10:04 my inbox was a parade of exclamation points, and I had not yet looked across the glass.
When I did, Julian was already standing. He had stepped out of his office and was crossing the floor in that unhurried way he has, hands in his pockets, as though the carpet was a runway built for his convenience. The entire department found excuses to stare at their monitors. He stopped at my desk. 'Congratulations,' he said, and his voice had no edge in it at all, which was somehow worse.
When I did, Julian was already standing.
'You wanted it,' I said. 'You'd have been good at it.' He shrugged. 'I'd have been fine. You'll be exceptional.' It was the nicest thing a man has said to me at work, and he delivered it holding a stapler. I realized then that I had spent the better part of a year bracing for a fight that had quietly turned into something else, and that the bracing had been the only part I truly resented.
He pulled a sticky note from his pocket. Of course he did. In neat handwriting it said: 'Now that I don't report to you, or compete with you, or share a garage with you, dinner?' Below that, a phone number. I read it twice. 'This is a workplace policy violation,' I said. He said, 'Then you're the director. Draft the amendment.' The glass wall had never felt thinner.
I said yes. Not with a speech, just a small, level nod and the corner of my mouth betraying me. He walked back to his office. I sat down, opened a new message, and typed a subject line: Dinner, Friday, Seven. Terms Negotiable. I hit send, and for the first time in six years, I did not check who else was on the list. Some replies, it turns out, are worth every regret.
Daria promised herself she wouldn't tell anyone how Friday went, and she has been terrible at that promise. Come hear it on TheFriend, where she keeps talking.
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