Nevertheless, I do manage to find enough indicators to support an absolute worst-case scenario and incorporate them into the model. This should make Emmett happy.
I’m a little over halfway done when my stomach starts to growl. I also can’t suppress a yawn. The numbers in the Excel cells are beginning to blur, bleeding into each other like the Rorschach blots psychologists use for personality tests. Wonder what it means that what I’m seeing looks like… I squint. Huh… Kind of like a penis.
Maybe it’s a sign that, deep inside, I think Excel is a dick, which doesn’t make any sense. I actually like Excel. It makes my job a hundred times easier.
I blink and shake my head to wake myself up. It doesn’t help much.
Need sugar. And more coffee.
I head over to the break room to grab a couple of candy bars and a latte from the fancy espresso machine Emmett’s brother Grant put in for his birthday. Emmett and Grant both give presents to the office on their birthdays. It’s a tradition. And probably tax deductible, if I know Emmett.
The floor’s empty except for two other desks—a couple of first-year analysts who report to Grant. They probably screwed something up. Or maybe they were too bullish.
But now even they are closing their laptops. Lucky them. That leaves me alone in the office.
Actually, not alone. Emmett’s still here. I know it because he hasn’t come by my desk, which is on his way to the elevator bank.
I walk into the empty break room, take a large mug that reads SHORT YO MAMA, fill it with fresh latte and grab a Snickers bar and two bags of Skittles.
“Why are you still in the office? You aren’t heading out?”
I turn, and there’s Sasha. We met at Goldman, become friends, went to Wharton together and now are roommates while we work at GrantEm. Unlike me, she works for Grant Lasker, who is a nicer human being than Emmett. She must be ready to go home because she’s carrying her laptop bag and purse.
“Emmett wants some adjustments,” I say.
Sasha looks at my java with pity. “He knows it’s Friday, right?”
“Yes, which is his most despised day of the week. The more he works, the more he thrives.”
She shakes her head.
“And the stuff I’m doing is for the meeting Monday afternoon. It can’t wait,” I say, not to defend Emmett, but to soothe my disappointment over not being able to nap in Rick’s car. Otherwise, I might just cry. Or scream. Or maybe do both at the same time—but not yet. I don’t have a job offer secured, and I haven’t hit the two-year mark, which means I can’t throw my resignation in Emmett’s face.
But in just fifty-six more days, I will. Gleefully.
She wrinkles her nose. “You couldn’t pass it off to an analyst or two?”
“If I’m not seeing what’s wrong, they aren’t going to. And I don’t want Emmett calling me in Tahoe and asking me to come in and redo it myself.”
“Tahoe?”
I sigh. “Rick booked a surprised getaway.”
Sasha raises both eyebrows. “Nice. I didn’t know he had it in him.”
“Yeah, me either. Let’s just say it was indeed a surprise.” And not in a good way, but I can’t discuss boyfriend issues with Sasha right now because it will take time I don’t have.
“That area has some really nice weekend rentals. Really swanky.”
“He likes them homey.” No need to see pictures to know what he would’ve picked. “I told him I’d join him later today. After I’m done. But whatever. Why are you still here? I thought you were heading out to see Gage.”
“We both had a few things to wrap up, so I moved my flight to tomorrow.”
“Price you pay for dating a high-priced Bay Area lawyer.” I haven’t met Gage yet. But then, Sasha hasn’t met most of my boyfriends, including Rick. We work too damn many hours.
“Yeah. Long distance sucks.” She filches a bag of sour gummy worms—her favorite—and stuf
fs it into her purse. She always takes one from the break room before leaving. Says it helps her control herself. She claims if she goes to a supermarket hungry, she’ll end up cleaning out the aisle. “But you know me. No working from home. Ever.”