The Many Regrets of a Cyborg Werewolf

Micromanaging - IV

Jessica tapped her foot incessantly, the slow elevator ride testing her patience. It was only six floors, but they were always sluggish, a frustrating compromise for the sake of the lab techs who sometimes carried delicate samples on gurneys that couldn't be moved too suddenly. Were Jessica not pushing a cart of her own she likely would've taken the stairs. It was eleven forty-one, and she knew her employer had a meeting at noon sharp. She had left herself plenty of time, but merely being on time did not satisfy Jessica. Punctuality meant being ahead of your deadlines, not barely reaching them. Variables were a common facet of life, and timing had to consider unforeseen delays. If everyone could be as efficient then the whole company would run smoother. It would also help if the elevator didn't make so many stops.

"Mornin', Jess," a man with an untucked shirt and paper coffee cup sauntered into the car.

"It's almost noon, Evans," Jessica remarked.

"Almost, not quite," Evans said as he turned towards the button pad. "You goin' up?"

"Top floor," Jessica replied. Evans' lackadaisical attitude was exactly the frustrating lack of efficiency she detested.

"Fifth floor accounting is having a night out this Friday," Evans leaned against the wall, "wanna come?"

"I'm busy," Jessica replied.

"On a Friday night?"

"And weekends," she did little to hide the irritation in her voice. Evans, apparently misconstruing it as frustration at her job and not him, nodded empathetically.

"Yeah, that's harsh," he continued. "The head honcho can be quite the taskmaster. Though you could always ask-"

"Is there a purpose to this conversation?" Jessica asked curtly, causing Evans to raise his brow in surprise. He shrugged, and so Jessica remained silent for the few more moments until her floor was reached, at which point she departed without a word. She pushed her cart down the main hall, diverting into the upper management wing, and promptly disseminated the various reports and papers until her trolley was nearly empty. Everyone else, at least, was courteous in their diligence, leaving Jessica ample time to make it to the main office at the end of the wing. She took the last folder from the cart and set it aside before entering her code into the door's pin pad, yet still took a moment to knock.

"Come in," a woman's voice sounded. Jessica opened one of the two large double doors into the office. It was spacious, well-lit from the windows that dominated the back wall, and had a modest lounging space ahead of the large desk, behind which sat a woman going over papers.

"This morning's progress reports, Miss Wintergreen," Jessica said as she approached the desk, folder in hand.

"Thank you, Jessica," the woman smiled.

"Revenue is page sixteen," Jessica explained, "and I knew you wanted margins from the past six months, but I included the previous year's at the end in case the investor's ask."

"Thoughtful," Miss Wintergreen said, opening the folder. It was several documents, multiple double-sided pages, and yet the CEO needed only a moment to glimpse each one and memorize its contents completely. Jessica admired that ability, among many her employer possessed. Though an impossible standard for her, it was nevertheless one she aspired to.

"Marvelous," Miss Wintergreen nodded as she closed the folder with a smile. "Hopefully this will keep the shareholders confident after our little declaration. Public opinion may be on our side, but you know these investors. They don't like to gamble."

"They do not, ma'am," Jessica said.

"Honestly, Jessica, you could be a little less formal," Miss Wintergreen smiled as she leaned onto her desk, "you've been here long enough. Seen enough."