Then I remember he said, “Working hard?”
I give him my best professional smile. “Yes. You said you wanted it by two.” I gesture at the Excel spreadsheet on my monitor.
“That I did.” He glances at my calendar, and his mouth flattens a bit.
Shit. I don’t want him to think the circles, star and 6MAT over today’s date mean something personal. If he does, he’ll find a way to ruin it. Maybe toss in an “extremely urgent” task I’ll need to work through lunch to get done.
I’m not canceling my interview with the Blaire Group. “I even marked it on my calendar, so I wouldn’t forget.”
“Mmm.” His eyes narrow slightly.
Crap. Does he know what the circles and star really mean? I don’t think he’d fire me for interviewing, but I don’t want to give him another reason to dedicate his life to making me miserable. I don’t know how much more he can do at this point, but I’m sure he’ll think of something. There’s a reason he’s the founding partner of a venture capital firm at his age. And it isn’t his daddy’s money.
“I’m wondering what that ‘6MAT’ stands for.” Emmett gives me a smile.
His ca
sual tone doesn’t fool me. I make sure to keep my face pleasant and innocent. “It’s my personal code to indicate urgency, 6MAT being the most important. The work I’m doing for you is obviously my top priority.”
“Yes, but what does it stand for?”
“Uh, you mean the letters? Themselves?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, it’s simple. Most Absolute Top. And I have six numerical levels of priority, six being the highest.” I smile again.
He raises both eyebrows, then nods slowly. “I see. It is important to mark one’s priorities.”
“Exactly.”
“Keep up the good work,” he says, although his tone indicates he’s going to pick apart my deliverable until he finds something to complain about. Then he goes into his office.
Once the door closes behind him, I let out a soft breath. Whew. Safe. And I think my laying it on so thick like that stroked his ego. Damn, I’m good. I don’t care if he gives me crap about my Excel model, because Emmett wouldn’t be Emmett if he didn’t.
Of course, once I get a new position and move on after eight weeks, this kind of passive-aggressive abuse will be over. Ah, the sweet smell of freedom. It’s so close!
As the morning matures, GrantEm starts to bustle with more people. A first-year associate, Webber, goes into Emmett’s office with a folder. Twenty minutes later he comes out, his shoulders rounded and the skin around his eyes red. He’s an impressive guy—two years at Morgan Stanley before getting his MBA from Stanford. But no match for the bosshole. Emmett must’ve eviscerated him in there, all without raising his voice. He knows exactly how to stick a knife in and twist, even as he smiles like some demon angel.
Another analyst goes into the Hell Cave and comes out looking like her high school crush told her she was ugly and her vagina smelled like dead fish.
Poor Diana.
The worst thing is about the office layout is that people might not hear what Emmett says, but they can see your humiliation. This is why, no matter what my boss says or does to me, I paste on a smile. I’ll be damned if anybody’s going to see how I really feel after an Emmett Lasker encounter.
By eleven fifteen, I’ve had three coffees, reviewed the Excel model one last time, making sure it looks perfect, and emailed it to Emmett. I don’t know how long the lunch interview is going to take, but I don’t want this deliverable hanging over my head the entire time I’m at the restaurant.
I check Emmett’s office. The door’s closed. And I didn’t see him leave after he got his midmorning coffee, so it’s probably safe to make a quick exit before he notices I’m not slaving away to make him money.
My purse slung over my arm, I trot to the elevator bank. I keep my eyes forward, not looking at anybody. The key is to look like I have an urgent business meeting to get to, not that I’m sneaking off to a secret job interview.
I hit the elevator button and wait for the car to arrive. It’s coming all the way from the lobby. Still, I have time. I’ve built in a ten-minute cushion just to be safe.
I look over my shoulder at Emmett’s office. The door’s still closed; he has no idea.
If Emmett were even the slightest bit of a decent human being underneath that gorgeous package, I might feel a little bad. After all, hiring me despite his misgivings has made me a valuable commodity. But all I’m feeling is exhilaration. And a desperate hope that he won’t notice anything until I have a firm offer.
After what seems like an eternity, the elevator pings and I make my escape.