Page 9 of Engineering a Love Story

Howard is near the back. I try to catch his eye. Normally, he might give me a supportive quirk of an eyebrow or a relaxed smile that says: You’re good. This isn’t any big deal.

Today Howard watches me with what can only be appraisal. There’s barely even acknowledgment in his face, almost as if he doesn’t know me, and this sends a shiver of panic through me. Howard has been my champion since I started at Gilroy. Have I wrecked this too?

When I first turned up at Gilroy more than a year ago on a temp assignment, I assumed I’d be coding. Instead, I was asked to document the custom publishing system a Gilroy IT team had recently developed. That system was kludgy, but it wasn’t my place to say so, and I found I didn’t mind writing the documentation—it flowed out of me as easily as code.

Several months in, that project’s manager asked if I’d be willing to help the fin-tech Research Director write a report on transaction processing systems, the software I’d worked on at BayBank. That RD was Howard Volpe. Howard is the only Black RD at Gilroy, though I didn’t know that until later, and I’ve wondered at times if he’s had experiences in techie rooms like this one that are in some way similar to my own—we’re certainly both outnumbered here today. Whatever the reason, we bonded the first day we met, ridiculing Gilroy’s clunky publishing system.

When that project ran out, Howard invited me to join his team permanently to initiate Gilroy’s coverage of online banking.

And I balked. “I don’t know anything about online banking.”

“No one does,” Howard said. “It doesn’t exist yet. You at least worked at a bank. We’ll figure it out.”

The first time I stood to deliver a presentation like this one, I was so nervous, I felt sure I’d vomit. But I got through it and gave another talk after that and then another. I traveled, met clients and vendors, gained a level of knowledge about the market, published research. It got easier. I settled in. Found I actually enjoyed giving advice to people who wanted to hear it.

The men in the hallway return and take their seats. Drexel announces a few agenda notes and makes introductions, and as he does, I watch them take me in. Unlike the previous analyst, I don’t look the part. My chunky heels get me to five-two, though even with that bump, I still often get carded when trying to buy a cocktail. Leaving my hair down can add a few years, but this morning I was too frazzled. It’s pulled back now in a ponytail, and I know these guys are looking at me and wondering why it’s suddenly amateur hour here at Gilroy. A few check their watches, perhaps worried their time is about to be wasted.

Drexel finishes his comments and takes his seat. Since I’m the one presenting, Evan sits too, though he’s still by me at the front of the room, facing the audience.

I attempt a smile. “Good morning. I’m Chelsea Lefevre.” Avoiding Howard’s gaze, I try to quell the shakiness in my voice.

Yet when I advance to my first slide and see The Symp’s turquoise logo, it’s like a faucet turns on inside of me and the words flow out. With all that pre-conference training, I know this presentation cold. And, weird as it is to admit, after all the hours I’ve put in this year, I know online banking cold. What banks are doing today online. Next slide. Predictions for the year ahead. Next slide. Security concerns, integration, UI design. Next slide. Next slide. Next slide.

The smoothness of the clicker in my hand, the familiar words rolling off my tongue, the heat of all those eyes on me—it’s totally absorbing. For thirty minutes, there’s no room to think about anything else happening in my life and for that I’m grateful.

The skepticism on the faces of these guys melts away, too, as I move along. They’re paying attention and taking notes.

I tense a little when I reach my final slide and we move into questions, since you can never be sure what people will ask. But today we get easy ones, and I glance at the clock high on the wall behind Howard. We’re almost through it.

Then a gray-haired guy in the back wearing a wide maroon tie that must be a decade out of fashion stands to ask a question. And this seems unnecessary—no one else stood up.

Wide Tie begins by explaining that State Street is evaluating Aurelian Systems, a start-up in online banking. “What’s Gilroy’s take on Aurelian? I’m worried we’re not ready for their platform.” As he speaks, his gaze drifts down to Evan. And this is why he stood, I realize. Because Evan is sitting and this guy didn’t have the line of sight he wanted to the only man on the stage. “We still mostly run mainframes,” he continues, now fully speaking to Evan. “What would Aurelian mean for our dev teams?”

As Wide Tie remains standing, looking at Evan for a response, I take a moment to digest. Unfortunately, this guy’s behavior isn’t unusual, especially since his question went more into the weeds technically than some do. Still, Drexel explained when he introduced us that Evan is only a research associate, and even if Wide Tie doesn’t know what that means, it’s clear I’m the lead analyst here. I’m the one who presented. Evan hasn’t said a word.

To his credit, Evan doesn’t attempt a reply. He pointedly turns his head to me.

“State Street should absolutely evaluate products from Aurelian,” I say. “Other Gilroy clients have been pleased so far. You’re right—Aurelian is Java-based. So your mainframe Cobol guys will need retraining, but that isn’t a heavy lift. The building blocks of the languages are the same.”

Even as I say it though, I think of Donny and his cronies at BayBank and know that the possibility of retraining older programmers and their willingness to be retrained are different beasts. But that will be Wide Tie’s problem.

The man hesitates, glancing again at Evan, but then he sits, just as one of his colleagues asks, “What do you think of their new product, Aurelian PayNow? For online bill payment? That’s something we’d like to do.”

“That’s still in beta,” I say. “We have a briefing coming up with Aurelian. After that, we’ll publish a research note on it. Book time with us and we can go over it with you.”

This man nods, satisfied with my answer. I also notice Howard leaning back, looking relaxed. When he gives me a small smile, I exhale.

Then we’re done and out in the hall, my arms loose with the release of adrenaline.

“Nice job,” Evan says as we wait for the elevator.

“Thanks.” The door opens and we step inside. Riding down, Evan twists the upper half of his body back and forth, like he’s loosening up for a run. “That guy’s question about Aurelian,” I say. “We should prep for that meeting in San Francisco.”

Evan taps the elevator wall. He’s thrilled he got permission to go on this upcoming trip with me, one of his first for Gilroy. I’m looking forward to San Francisco too, a city I haven’t visited yet. Maybe business trips aren’t supposed to feel glamorous, but they can, if you’ve never been anywhere.

“About that,” Evan says as the elevator door opens. We walk to the edge of the analyst pen, a sea of fifty cubes that hums with conversation and ringing telephones. Evan explains he hasn’t been able to confirm the Aurelian meeting. “Banking’s wonder boy has been hard to nail down.”

I smile at Evan’s reference to Manish Bindra, the founder of Aurelian Systems and the hottest shot online banking has to offer. I’ve spoken with Manish by phone a few times, but we haven’t yet met in person.