Page 55 of I Hope This Finds You Well

My hand raises, shaky and sweating. Gregory’s expression shifts to almost a scowl, almost offended. “Miss Smith, do you have something?”

Every single face in the room turns toward me. My stomach flips as I stand. My legs have morphed into Jell-O. I open my mouth, but all the words in the world seem to mesh on my tongue and I’m sure I’ll say something offensive instead, because my brain likes to fuck me up like that.

I clear my throat, but my voice is still pitchy as I say, “I noticed several departments keep important data in silos, like supply chain and accounting regarding seasonal sales.”

All the faces remain deadpan, their eyes glassy and lifeless. The only sound in the room comes from Larry Goodwin chugging his water bottle.

I may be internally dying.

My gaze pulls toward Caitlin, who is slumping in her chair with her arms crossed. Garret is sitting beside her, equally unsympathetic. My eyes shift to Rhonda, who is pursing her lips. Then to Armin, who raises his eyebrows.

I look toward Cliff. He puts his pen down and nods at me encouragingly. Now that I’m standing, I can see his notebook. He’s drawn three cats in the margins.

And it hits like a rush: I can pretend. I can be good at talking sometimes. Like at the ice-cream shop, or when I was helping Rhonda, or when I met Armin’s parents. Everything is so much easier when it isn’t real.

What ifthiswasn’t really my life?

I lift my chin. “What I mean is, several departments do all this work to reach similar conclusions from different ends. There’s got to be a way to divvy this labor up more efficiently.”

A breath of life washes through the room. Eyes blink. Chairs shift. Marla leans over to Stu to mutter something, and he nods, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

What if this place wasn’t soul sucking?

I pick up my folder and take out the papers I’d prepared, handing them around. “As you can see here, I’ve created a flow chart for how certain info could be handled.”

Rhonda’s cupped her hands together over her chest, proud mama smile on. When I pass Cliff to give him my printout, he meets my gaze and grins. The ground below me seems firmer.

What if the people here were good humans?

I keep talking; it’s like an out-of-body experience. My voice is less shaky than any of the rehearsals I did in front of the mirror last night. I manage to share more details about my idea, and I actually say what I’m thinking.

When a few people chime in with questions, I’m able to answer them. My voice has evened, my bouncing leg finally still.

Faces begin to light up as they look over my printout. A few murmurs of praise carry across the room like a song.

Gregory puffs out his entire chest and claps once. “How long have we missed that? This. This right here is why I like to have these discussions.” Sure, he’s basically found a way to praise himself for my thoughts, but people are smiling atme.

In fact, so many people are still looking at me. A nightmare.

Only it’s not.

I never realized there could be a difference.

Caitlin crosses her arms. “How did you figure this out? I mean, how did you know how inventory operates while workingourjob?” She twists a brow. “Have you been spying on them?” She says this like it’s a joke, but she and I lock eyes. A few others mirror her suspicious gaze, while others are more quizzical.

I don’t dare look at anyone directly.

And how quickly perception can turn bad—the fickle beast. I wipe my hands on my thighs. “I’m just assuming that’s how things are handled, based on what I’ve seen from my end. I could be wrong. In whichcase this flow chart will be a funny little keepsake for the bulletin board.”

A fair amount of laughter for that terrible joke pulls through the room. Jean Adler says, “No, you nailed it. Thanks, Jolene!”

My mouth twitches, but I’m too shy to smile. I make my way back toward my seat. I scribble on my notepad, trying to look calm and focused, mouth twitching to smile.

For reasons I don’t understand, the words I write are:

Streamline

Business