"Did you see the email?"
Elsa barely avoids spilling her coffee when Rapunzel rushes to meet her first thing in the morning. Her cousin's eyes are frantic, shoulders tense with unsettled energy.
"Watch it," Elsa chides, unwrinkling the front of her shirt and checking it for accidental stains in the corridor mirror. "I'm supposed to be giving a presentation today."
"Did you see it?" Rapunzel repeats more vehemently.
She sighs as she resumes her walk back to her desk. "They finally decided to drop the mandatory leadership boot camps this year?"
"Even better." Rapunzel stretches a pause for dramatic effect and only continues speaking when she's certain she has Elsa's undivided attention, "There's a new head analyst spot open."
Elsa's steps falter for a second, but she covers it discreetly. Having been working at iotec for almost five years, a lead position would be a very sensible next step in her career, and her mouth salivates at the prospect. Still, realistic to a fault, she maintains expectations in check and proceeds with caution. Reaching her desk, she slowly sets her mug down and starts booting her computer just like she does every day. She glances back at Rapunzel, excitement expertly masked behind a blank expression. "Really?"
Rapunzel shrugs. With years of friendship under her belt, she seems to read what Elsa is doing instantaneously but doesn't press it. "I guess that was to be expected, seeing as the last boss ended up admitted to the hospital with a stress ulcer."
"What does that say about our future?" Elsa mocks.
"Don't think too hard about it. What matters right now is that there's a free-for-all promotion opportunity that has your name written with a permanent marker all over it, El."
"What do you mean by free for all?"
"It's all in the email." Rapunzel taps her nail on the plastic of Elsa's monitor case. "They're opening selection for anyone in the company. Doesn't even have to be in the IT department."
"That's… unexpected." Fingers flying on the keyboard, Elsa opens her work email and finds the one Rapunzel mentioned in her inbox, the one with the subject [ALL PERSONEL] LEAD ANALYSTS APPLICATION OPEN, and skims through it. To apply, one must fill out the linked form, detailing their experience and a sample that validates their technical skillset. Later, a round of interviews with a hiring consultant is to be held. And, the expected criteria met, it really does seem to be 'free for all' as Rapunzel has put it.
It sounds… very democratic, but it would be a lie to say it doesn't irk her a little. Arrogant as it may be, she doesn't know how she'd fare with someone less competent sweeping in and taking the job right under her nose. Not when she's put in more hours than anyone, worked harder than anyone.
"Maybe it's got to do with the changes of air the board keeps mentioning all the time."
Ah, the fabled changes that have been keeping the company buzzing for months. Such a vague and impalpable concept that could literally mean anything. From a new supplier for the vending machine snacks to a new policy to encourage more active participation of minorities at the head of the company. Despite the unclear terms, people sure love to hypothesize about it.
"Maybe." Elsa agrees, though still not satisfied with the stunt the directors are trying to pull.
"Promise you'll apply?"
Elsa hums. "We'll see."
"Elsa…"
"I'm joking!" She hides her hesitancy behind what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "I'll fill it out as soon as I have the time."
"It's pitch day!" Jackson Overland announces to the whole room when he walks in at nine on the dot, backpack haphazardly slung over one shoulder and a disposable cup of coffee in the opposite hand as if no one else in the office is smart enough to know what day of the month it is.
Other than a quick eyeroll, Elsa ignores him and continues furiously smashing letters on her keyboard. Deep in her focus zone, she nearly misses a dark flurry moving in the corner of her peripheral vision. At first, she pays no attention to it, chucking it to the light playing tricks on her. But then, it happens again, and her curiosity is piqued, and there's not a chance she'll be able to go back to work without finding out—
WHAT ON EARTH?
There's a— a lizard? A baby dinosaur? A demon that has crawled out of the fires of hell? snooping around the floor. Its thick, scaly skin is a myriad of browns; long tail swishes all over the floor like a merciless whip; slit eyes are two horrifying pools of pure black.
Elsa screams. Frantic, she pulls her legs up and wheels her chair away from that crawling threat. "What in the name of God is that monstrosity?!"
"Watch it, Arendelle," Jackson bane-of-her-existence Overland pops out of nowhere to chastise her. He picks up the devil's spawn and cradles it in his arms like a baby. "Or you're gonna hurt Jim's feelings."
"Do I look like I give a damn about Jim's feelings?!"
The man has the nerve to grin. "Wanna pet it?"
She holds up a finger in warning. Her eyes watch him and the reptile in his arms like a hawk. "Come any closer and I will skin you alive and feed you to your friend Jim. Why the hell did you bring a lizard to the office?"
"I'm testing the limits of our humble workplace's pet-friendly policies."
Elsa hisses through her nose. Her head hurts. A part of her wants to cry. "You. Are a complete moron."
"Some would say I'm doing the Lord's work."
"I'm reporting you to HR."
Jack lets out a contemptuous snort. "Stick to your lane, you uptight killjoy."
But she's already lost interest in Jack and his stupid antics. She bunches her hair into a bun atop her head, mumbling to herself all the while, "I don't have time for this stupid flesh-eating, miniature Godzilla—"
"He eats bugs, lady."
Ignoring him, Elsa continues, "—I'm gonna finish my presentation and I'm gonna—"
"Oh yeah, you're giving your pitch today, aren't you? How's that looking?"
"Shut up and get out of my face," she cuts him off sharply.
"Geez. Stressed out much?" he mocks, rolling his eyes.
Elsa's hands freeze over the keyboard. Her eyes narrow, glaring at him through the reflection of her screen. He stares back, making the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably. "Go find a cage for your stupid friend, thank you."
Unbothered by the sharpness in her voice, Jack smiles and wiggles his fingers in a cocky farewell. When he speaks next, the patronizing, saccharine-sweet tone he uses makes her wanna stab his eyes with one of her fountain pens.
"Best of luck, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll do great. "
There's a reason why she spends most of the day in front of a computer. Actually, there are a thousand reasons, probably, but one of the main ones is that her computer doesn't judge her. The same can't be said about the room full of bored faces staring at her as her slides take their sweet time to load.
In theory, she's ready—she's been working out this project's minutiae for weeks; she's done her research; she has notes. Also, she's hoping that adding it to her job application will make her form stand out from the competition. There is no room for failure.
Still, Elsa hates speaking in public. It's always high-risk, low reward from her perspective. No matter how much she prepares, her nerves get wired, there's always at least one stupid question, and most of the room is either there because they're obligated to, or because they're hoping to spectate her making a fool of herself. Not that there's any point in clinging to her grievances; she has a presentation to give. It's time to suck it up and does what must be done.
Her idea is a smart wardrobe app with an AI that'll choose your outfits for you.
She brings up statistics on decision-making. An average adult is estimated to make around 35,000 decisions a day, and studies have shown that the weight of those decisions can add to a considerable amount of mental stress in the long run. She then mentions Steve Jobs and his iconic black turtleneck, which is certified to earn her some brownie points in a room full of computer geeks.
Next comes the specifics of her proposition. She presents a skeleton prototype of what the app would look like in the hands of a user. Mentions her idea to implement weather reports to the AI's decision-making tree, and a calendar to keep track of events—a doctor's appointment, a party, an important business meeting… She brings up similar services already on the market and explains point by point how her idea surpasses each of them.
There are questions, of course. Schedule estimates, usability issues. Data security. Elsa answers all of them the best she can. With certainty and honesty. Her hands still shake, but She pushes through, talking with fervor, convincing those people that she's done her homework. And that it would be in the company's best interest to invest in her idea.
To her relief, there is approval in enough faces. Nods of interest. An agonizingly long moment of ushered words. Then, the verdict: She is given the green light.
A sigh. Applause from the back of the room spreads like a wave.
She did it.
Finally, she can breathe.
"Are you gonna use the wardrobe idea on your application?" Stupid Overland says when he swings by her desk on his way out at the end of the day.
A few final matters to take care of before heading home herself, she grunts in response, a noise frosted with a dense layer of aggressiveness she hopes is enough to make him take a hint and leave her alone.
"So?" He stops his texting and gestures with his phone when she says nothing else. Jack sits on the edge of her desk, legs languidly stretched out, top button of his shirt undone, amusement coloring his features as he patiently waits for her answer.
She glances at him, a cold and impassive smile on her lips. "Yes?"
"Your application?"
"What makes you think I'm telling you anything?"
"I would use it if I were you," he says with a shrug. "I mean, it'd probably be wise to beef up your résumé while you can."
"Excuse me?"
Jack's grin brightens as if energized by her disdain. "Because I'm applying for that opening as well."
A raised eyebrow. A smirk tugging the corner of her lips. "And you think you can beat me?"
"Please, I could beat you with my hands tied behind my back."
"In your dreams, jackass."
Jack leans back on one arm, blocking her main screen, his eyes sparkling. "We both know who the best coder between the two of us is, don't we?" he teases, then has the audacity to wink. That infuriating smirk on his lips successfully reminding her of that day.
It was a few months after she'd been hired, and there was an error in her code. Her team had been trying to troubleshoot it for almost a week, but the whole thing had passed through so many keyboards already, each coder with their own quirks, that it was hard to find the problem.
She was exhausted; she was stressed; and she was at the brink of a mental breakdown. The clock was ticking against her. And when a few other programmers were allocated to take a look at it, Elsa felt small, and useless, and like a complete failure.
Jack had been among the task force. Or the cavalry, as he called it.
She didn't think much of it then; he was just another colleague doing his job. Until he found the bug overnight. Not only that, but he took the fall for it, announcing to their boss and anyone willing to hear that it had been his disattention all along. It was humiliating. Without ever giving her a heads up, he had decided she needed saving like a pitiful damsel in distress. And he turned it into a huge spectacle, making it impossible for her to own up to her stupid mistake. She and Jack were the only ones who knew the truth, and even now, he taunts her with it, using it as leverage, never letting her forget that she owes him.
She has hated him with all the fibers of her being since.
"The job is mine," Elsa grumbles through gritted teeth.
"Wanna bet on it?"
"Do I have 'idiot' written on my face?"
Jack sniggers. "Somebody is scared of losing."
"Ha!" Elsa leans back on her chair, crosses her arms, and glares at him. "I'm gonna make you sign up for those boring corporate teambuilding workshops for an entire year when I win."
"You wish. But when I win, I'm gonna have you working on my team."
"I'd rather go back to electoral data analysis than work for you," she deadpans without a second of hesitation.
His grin spreads like the cat that got the canary, and she feels what's coming before he even utters the first word. Her nails dig into her arms. She wants to slap the satisfaction off his stupid face.
"Funny, I don't think you had any trouble being under me before."
So. Another story. Part 1 is pretty much written. Whether I'll write Part 2 or not is still unclear. Also, part 1 will have 5 chapters and a tiny bonus outtake.
