After that we go light, discussing a letter from an older office manager who works with a passel of millennials and her inability to understand emoji use. If I don’t put a smiley face emoji or some hearts in my texts, people think I’m mean!
“Language is fluid,” I say. “Every year there are new words, colloquial changes. Over time words that mean one thing come to mean another. Emojis, like it or not, are part of that state of change. It might seem silly. But would it kill you to send heart eyes to express warmth and goodwill?”
Ben makes an affirming noise.
“Or you could simply tell your staff that emojis are not your thing,” says Ben. “Then plan a gathering so that you can all get to know each other better. Have some real-time conversations, so that people can hear your voice in your other communications more clearly.”
“Or,” says Jax. “Just pick one signature emoji—the smiley face, or even the three hearts smiley face, and use that. It can be part of your brand.”
It all runs over me. In the studio, dwelling in Dear Birdie, all the rest of my life is gone as if it doesn’t even exist. I forget all about you for a while. I am lost in other people’s problems, helping them navigate a world that it seems like we’re all struggling to understand. I am reluctant for the session to end. But end it does.
“You doing okay?” Jax asks, as she pulls on her coat to leave. “Did you hear from him?”
I shake my head. I consider telling her about Bailey Kirk, about the missing girl. But I’m not ready to “unpack” it yet, as Ben would say.
“I guess I’ve been ghosted.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” she says, pulling me close. She smells like tea tree; her embrace is full of love energy. I let that flow though my body.
“I’m okay,” I lie into her shoulder.
“I know you are,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “You’re wonder woman. Meanwhile, why don’t you talk to Jason? Take your own advice.” Jason is the private detective to whom we refer some Dear Birdie letter writers, a tech genius who practically lives inside a computer.
“Yeah. Maybe,” I say. “Anyway, Adam didn’t take anything from me.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Didn’t he?”
Jax and Ben leave together, and I’m alone in the studio. The production team on the other side of the glass is already at work on editing the session. I like this warm, windowless space. All sounds muted, lights dim.
I check to make sure the mic sound is off, and then I call Joe the superhost. He answers after one ring.
“This is Joe.” An old man’s voice, gravelly and gruff.
“Hi, this is Wren. I left a message about my friend.”
He issues a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, well, your friend owes me about $5K.”
“How’s that?”
“He rented my place for a long weekend,” he says. “Sent me the money via wire transfer, nice and easy. When he asked if he could stay for another week, I said yes. It was slow and I didn’t have anyone in the calendar.”
I hear sirens in the background. Joe clears his throat.
“Okay,” I say.
“He told me he’d wire again, and I wasn’t too worried about it because he’d done as he said he would the first time. But a couple of days went by. Finally, some money came through—but a fraction of what another week would cost. This went on for about two weeks—he didn’t pay. Didn’t vacate. Finally, I sent someone to kick him out. But he was already gone.”
The words rattle around my brain. This doesn’t compute with anything I think I know about you.
“When was this?” I ask.
“A couple of months ago, now.” He’s clicking on his computer. “He checked in October 1. I sent someone on November 1 to get rid of him, but he was gone.”
Where have you been living all this time? In your office? Another rental somewhere? Is that what you do—just move from place to place?
“Did you file a police report?” I ask.
“No,” he scoffs. “The police don’t give a shit. New York City is not a vacation-rental-friendly town. People don’t like it. But, you know, this is my retirement income.”
“What name did he give you?”
“Adam Grove,” he says. “Surprise, surprise, not his real name. Some people only take credit cards because of this type of thing. But I try to trust people. Or I did. From now on, it’s credit cards only, pay up front, no refunds.”