Page 3 of ReTreat Yourself

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‘So, any ideas on how to backtrack on these Milly-May tweets?’ I say tensely, my lips shrivelling into a cat’s bum. I mean, if my sister is now our new boss, what hope have we got? What is the point in working late every evening and coming in early to show you really, really want to do well in the company, if they go and throw a perfectly good promotion away on your crackpot sister who never arrives early and spends the day hashtagging nonsense?

After a minute of torturous silence, watching my team rudely swipe away on their phones, the weight of these home truths makes something in me crumble. I think my one and only life goal may have rested on that promotion. I put all my eggs in one basket, and now they’re being cracked open to make Ava a fluffy omelette. Since birth, my sister has turned everything between us into a competition and somehow, she always manages to win.

‘Ahem, what we need is some… some low-hanging fruit. If we… if we could just lift the bonnet on the engine,’ I ramble. I’ve now got multiple sets of unimpressed eyes boring into me, ready to pounce and take me down. None of them have an ounce of respect for me, even after all these years. The suggestion of getting our ‘ducks in a row’ disintegrates on my tongue. ‘No, what we need is a helicopter view of the situation. That’s right, a helicopter view in order to square the circle… which is obviously the problem in this metaphor.’

My sister has well and truly shafted me and I didn’t even see it coming.

Lance drums his fingers on the table, snapping me back to attention. ‘This is an awfully long run-up. Even for you, Nell. What next? Getting our “ducks in a row”?’

He’s right. I need to stop focusing on my sister and get my head in the game. I still have a job to do and a reputation to salvage.

I fire questions around the table. ‘We have two reputations at stake. How can we turn this situation to an advantage, so that ManUp profit from this?’

Silence.

‘How about we turn Milly-May’s situation into a tale of resilience? Of a woman buying her own flowers and holding her own hand? Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all vibes.’

It’s as though I have turned on a switch. The whole team start talking at once.

Finally, just under two hours later, we have successfully managed to salvage the PR disaster. I am relieved to see they all look grudgingly respectful. It has been a veritable triumph in terms of teamwork, but the higher-up boss, Karen, doesn’t exactly seem thrilled as she sweeps in and walks right up to me. ‘Can I have a word?’

‘Will it take long?’ Pippa asks her.

Karen glares at me as though I’m somehow to blame for other employees talking to her.

‘It’s my birthday lunch,’ I explain. ‘They’re expecting me to buy them drinks.’

‘Can’t the team manage without you for five minutes?’ Karen says, turning to face them. ‘Off you go. Nell can catch you up.’

The team watch me follow Karen to the lifts. When we reach her office, Karen says, ‘Nell, darling.’ Because apparently when you’ve reached this high a rung in the chain of command it’s okay to be intimate and also because she’s a woman it’s not seen as patronising or over-familiar in any way. ‘I hear you had a rough morning?’

‘No. Everything went fine,’ I explain. ‘It wasn’t easy, but we got Milly-May to post that perhaps if her boyfriend had worn her sponsors’ ManUp products then he’d have manned-up enough to do the right thing in the first place. We reminded men that women don’t really need them for much because we can do everything ourselves these days.’

Karen’s lip curls encouragingly at one side, so I continue. ‘She got four hundred thousand likes across all her social media platforms and the sponsors got a spike in online pay per click sales of 200 per cent. It was a good rescue.’

She looks at me quizzically. ‘Listen, I’ll get to the point. Ava said the rescue was all her idea. She reached out first to Milly-May. I saw the post myself.’

Feck! It’s true, she did! ‘No, but… Well, yes, but…’

‘It does put your team into question. What is the point of it, if you can’t do the one function you are paid to do?’ Karen shifts her eyes from side to side then back to mine. ‘And of course, one employee is much cheaper than a whole team. You understand.’

My jaw falls open as I take in what Karen is saying.

‘I hear daily tales from Ava of bickering and hours wasted answering emails from your department, such as “Where is my elastic band?”, “Have you seen my cup?” and my own personal favourite, “No, the other cup”.’ Karen makes a crazy face, laughing to herself as she pulls out reams of printed-out emails, plonking them with a heavy thud in front of me. She allows me to cast a quick glance over them.

Shite.

An uncomfortable silence envelops the room as I scan page after page of evidence clearly pointing to mindless timewasting from our team. Ava must have hacked into my computer.

‘And these updates from you to Pippa about Ryan Reynolds. I mean, we all know how important celebrities are in times of global crisis and huge economic turbulence, but are these strictly necessary?’ Karen slides me a printout of Ryan in the shower, soaping himself extravagantly. ‘Well, perhaps this one is, but you get my point.’

I hang my head in shame. ‘So, you gave my promotion to Ava because she illegally copied private emails, took the credit for our big win today and because she will basically stop at nothing to get you more Instagram likes?’

‘No. Of course not,’ Karen reprimands, making me feel very small for even thinking it. ‘Well, yes, that is exactly why, but Eleanor, darling, we need people in charge who are charismatic and, you know…’ Karen stops to look me rudely up and down. ‘…she’ll be managing over two hundred people across ten regional offices. She’s more assertive than you. She tells nearly a million followers exactly what to buy and how to live. Whereas you… now, what can you tell me about these emails?’ she says, sitting back on her throne when I make no attempt to refute the evidence before me.

I push Ava’s treachery to one side of my mind along with the insults and the conclusion that everyone thinks I’m dull as shit. Karen might have a tiny point. My team do tend to bicker a lot. This proof is very incriminating.