Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Do you have time to talk? I’d love to learn more about your department.”
“Sure.” He pulls back one of the two chairs in front of my desk and settles himself into it.
I set my snowglobe on a shelf behind my chair and swivel to face Owen. “I’m curious how long you’ve been with the company.”
“A little over a year and a half.” That makes him a veteran here compared to many other employees. I’m inclined to ask what keeps him around when so many others have left, but I can’t think of a tactful way to ask.
“I met your digital marketing specialist earlier. Kenzie? Do I have that right?”
“You do. I’m impressed.”
“It will take me a day or two to get everyone’s name right, but to be honest, the staff isn’t as big as I was expecting.”
He cocks his head, his brows lifting. “No?”
“How’s your department doing? Any particular needs right now?”
“We work with a couple of outside agencies for a lot of our projects, so we’ve been able to keep up as the company’s been growing.”
“Good to know.”
Owen and I talk for a while about his responsibilities and background. He seems content in his position, and I get the impression that he’s someone who looks on the bright side of things. He’s easy to talk to, and smiles easily and often.
Just as he’s leaving, a knock on my open door alerts me to someone else’s arrival. It’s the IT guy, Charles, and I definitely remember his name because I knew I’d be seeing him today to get my equipment set up.
“Is this a good time, Miss Flores?”
“Of course. C’mon in, Charles, and please call me Ana.”
Lanky and blond haired, he’s not more than a couple of years older than me, and I’m not his superior, so him addressing me by my last name seems oddly formal.
“I have your computer login, and I’ll show you how to get onto the server.” He pulls out the chair that Owen had just been in, moves it around to my side of the desk, and perches at the edge of the seat as his fingers dance around the keyboard.
Once he’s shown me around the system, he turns his attention to my phone. He walks me through the login, then presses the options to get to the part where I can add my outgoing message.
Rather than leaving me alone to complete the setup, Charles slides back in the chair and watches me while I record my greeting. I focus my attention on the surface of the desk while I speak, but I can feel his eyes on me the entire time.
“I like your voice,” he says as I select the option to approve my message.
“Thank you.”
After he explains how to leave temporary out-of-office messages, he gets up to move away, and my snowglobe catches his eye. “Is this yours?”
“Yes, I collect dolphin figurines. Thought it would be nice to bring a couple in.” I gesture toward the other one I’d set on the far side of my desk.
“Sweet.” He picks up the glass one and looks it over before carefully setting it back in its spot.
“I’ll be working on bringing in help for your department. Do you have time to talk about what qualifications are needed?”
“Can do.” He sits back, looking less comfortable now that he’s not working with the equipment. I ask a few questions and take note of his answers. “How long have you been with the company?” I ask once I have a good picture of what’s needed for the open IT position.
“A long time. I was a consultant when they were just selling packaged beans, and I’ve been here ever since they moved into this office.”
“Oh. Interesting. As someone who’s been here since the beginning, I wonder if you have any feedback on why the employee turnover rate is so high?”
He shrugs and shrinks down a bit in the chair, gripping an armrest and looking even more uncomfortable. “People complain about Jansen and Derek being hardasses—excuse my language. But they’re just doing their jobs. People are too sensitive.”
I just nod at that. It makes sense that some people would get along with grumpy, demanding bosses, and other people wouldn’t. Then there are people like me, who seem to get turned on by their surly behavior.
“Do you feel fulfilled in your position?” I ask.
Charles stares at me for a long beat, looking like he’s lost in thought. When I lift my brows in question, his head makes a small jerk, as if he’s waking himself up. “What was that?”
“Are you happy in your current position? Are there any changes you’d make if you had the chance?”
“Hmmm …” As he thinks, his eyes drift from my face to my chest in a way that makes my skin itch under my silky blouse. “Not sure what I’d change,” he says finally, “except to have another person to take up some of the workload.”