But now, my nose wrinkles at the thought of Dougie Dawson being our CEO and the interim chairman. If a CEO is the prime minister, the board chairman is the monarchy: background noise until something drastic happens. Only then are you reminded of their divine power. It feels wrong, and frankly unethical, to have the same person doing both.
“Gross,” I mutter.
“You’ve met him?” Fari asks. “Dougie?”
“Yeah. He’s archaic, and I’m not talking about his age.”
Fari sighs. “Wonderful.”
She goes back to scanning emails. I grab my mouse and sift through Outlook until I find the email from this morning.
Effective immediately, Robert Harrison will be stepping down as Chairman of Little Cooper’s Board of Directors. We thank Robert for twenty-five years of service and all the roles he occupied: Financial Manager, Director of Financial Operations, VP of Finance, CEO, and Board Chairman. We wish Robert the best in his retirement.
Filling Robert’s shoes as interim chairman is Douglas （Dougie） Dawson, Little Cooper’s own CEO. While the search is conducted for a permanent board chairman, Dougie is excited to focus more substantially on furthering Little Cooper’s legacy.
Look. I’m not here to promote toxic masculinity, but isn’t rule number one of the Fuckboy Handbook: Business Edition to hold on to your territory by any means necessary? Why would Robert retire now, knowing his adversary would inevitably step up to the plate? I mean, it’s not like Dougie got that position out of the blue. Decisions like that happen behind closed doors, distributed to us underlings in the form of bite-size propaganda.
So what the heck is Robert playing at?
* * *
I don’t see Alex in person until Wednesday afternoon during the weekly all-hands meeting for Bite the Hand. He sits across the table from me and acts very professional, talking about photo shoot arrangements for Love Letters （a column by queer writers written epistolary style） and contacting a Discord rep about We Need to Talk （a fanatical and wildly inappropriate server where people both love and hate-love our brand）。
I sit across from him in a room full of people, answering questions about dollars and cents, thinking about how he’s so. much. better. at this stuff than I would have ever been, and also the way he cradled me as we slept.
“Casey, can we make this work in December?” Alex asks me in regard to a podcast launch he’s been orchestrating. “I know we planned the expense for next fiscal year, but the guest we want for the first episode can only do before Christmas or after Valentine’s Day. Don’t ask me why. I think it was something celestial.”
I summon all my typical malaise when Alex asks my department for money and say, “If you absolutely must, but I’ll need a new expense report.”
The smirk he throws me has a devilish gleam. “Certainly.”
“Casey and Alex.”
I cut my gaze to Saanvi. She’s sitting beside Gus, who, as usual, is ignoring everyone and typing furiously on his laptop. I can’t blame him; deadlines around here are brutal, and he has the added pressure of editing every piece of copy at the fastest-growing platform in our company. I sometimes wonder if Gus knew what he was in for when he first pitched BTH as a Frame vertical. Could he have known a year ago what it would snowball into?
“Your video premieres Friday,” Saanvi goes on, and I combust.
Friday? That’s two days from now! Two days.
“Andre said two weeks!” I exclaim. “It’s been less than one week since we recorded!”
Saanvi shrugs. “My team is efficient. If you want to watch the final cut, Andre will have it ready tomorrow. Just swing by his desk.”
Well. She didn’t say If you want to change anything, so watching the final video will only triple my anxiety. I really don’t need the opportunity to dissect my flaws ahead of time. “I don’t need to see it,” I say. “I was there.”
“Same,” Alex echoes. When our gazes meet, he’s got a perfectly professional expression stamped on his infuriatingly handsome face.
“Could you guys maybe convince Brijesh to adopt that mindset?” Saanvi grumbles.
After the meeting, she holds Alex back to sign the same paperwork I signed before they released the “Healthed-Up Hot Chicken” video. I pack up my things and head back to ninety-eight. And the day carries on.
Perfectly professionally.
* * *
One Day at Work in the Magazine Industry: Casey and Alex Eat an Unrealistic Workday Lunch and Slam FiDi
Analyst Casey’s in the queue! Analyst Casey’s in the queue!
Lol they stole her from the food baby channel, incredible
Wait this is so mfing wholesome
I have questions … about Alex’s relationship status
THEY ARE SO ORDINARY AND I FINALLY FEEL SEEN.
Ha. Sailboat anatomy.
YES Alex, let us ALL continue to destigmatize ADHD in the workplace!
For sure he’s an enneagram 7. She’s got to be a 5 or a 3
I’m sorry but there is no way they’re not boning
* * *
Thirty minutes after the video goes live, I get this text from Miriam: the day you start posting your skincare routine is the day I put a bounty on ur head.
I snort at my desk and text back, the fifteen-year-old girl you knew in high school who had to beg Marty Maitland to spring for accutane would never.
Fari pulls up the video on her computer against my will, and she, Benny, Don, and I watch the intro together. I’m cringing into Benny’s shoulder, but Fari tells me my hair looks good and she’s glad I went with the soft purple lipstick instead of matte red, which eases my nerves more than it has any right to.
“What are you guys watching?”
Fari hits her space key. All four of us look up to see Tracy staring at us. Our faces display guilt so obvious, we might as well be watching porn.
“C’mere, Trace!” Benny shouts. “Casey’s on TV!”
Don looks at Benny like he just ordered our CFO to strip, which, understandable. Not many of us are bold enough to speak to this financial goddess with that kind of familiarity, but Tracy just raises her eyebrows and comes over, intrigued.
Andre has done an impeccable job editing this. There we are walking, and the sun refracts across the screen in an attractive ray of light. There are clips of the street, people’s shoes, cars, buildings. The inside of the market, some ASMR-level auditory work as the pizza box scrapes our table and bottles twist open. Between it all, we talk. The editing makes the dialogue feel off-the-cuff and snappy, much more comedic than it did coming out of our mouths. It’s clipped together fast, like a sports highlight reel. Alex asking me about my favorite Excel formula, and me spewing all over him, draws a real laugh out of Tracy.
The final cut is the outro: me waving to Alex as he heads home to change. Then I say to the camera, “XLOOKUP, you heard it here first,” and the screen blacks out.
Benny slaps me on the back in a rare bout of positive reinforcement.
Tracy says, “Thanks for reminding me why we do all this, guys.” She smiles softly and turns to Fari. “Phenomenal job on that business proposal, by the way. Let’s workshop it together, just the two of us, next week.”
“I—yes,” Fari says, doe-eyed. “Thank you.”