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I panicked, and my hand shot forward to the keyboard before I could stop it and clicked thedeclinebutton on the meeting. I didn’t even send a reason. I’d never in my life declined a meeting with a supervisor. I tried frantically to think of an excuse. The back of my shirt got sweaty as I hit thereplybutton on the email.
What would Heidi’s hypermasculine man say? I thought back to the messages Jason had sent over the time we’d worked together. He tended to be a bit familiar, irreverent but confident, in a way that would totally be seen as unprofessional coming from me. Could I respond in such a way that wouldn’t ruin the opportunity completely?
From: Indiana Aaron
To: Melvin Hammer
Re: Invitation Declined—Catch-up Call
Hey Mel—Sorry, no cell reception currently, but I have an internet connection if you’re open to talking that way. Thanks—IA
I sent the message and then closed my eyes. This was probably it. I turned to look at the clock, counting down my last few minutes as an employed person. A few seconds later, my email dinged again. Melvin.
From: Melvin Hammer
To: Indiana Aaron
Re: Re: Invitation Declined—Catch-up Call
Sure—I know you must be busy. Just let me know what works for you.—Mel.
Wow, things were easier when you looked like Harrison Ford. I quickly wrote back.
I have time now.
Immediate response.Great. Where are you that you have no cell reception but a strong internet connection?
What did manly men do?I hike in the mountains while I work. I can triangulate an internet connection in the hills.
I looked down at my pajamas, covered in cartoon corgis. I grabbed a tobacco-and-woodsmoke-scented candle from the end table and lit it, inhaling deeply. It was the most masculine thing I owned. A gift from last year’s white elephant party.
Excellent, Melvin emailed back.Would you be open to a Coderpad interview?CoderPad interviews were a common way to test the skills of a coder.
I flexed my fingers, ignoring my bright yellow nail polish. I could absolutely do a CoderPad. It was kind of like a sandbox for coders—you pick your language and code your heart out. One of my favorite things.I have my tablet out here but not sure about audio/visual. Let’s give it a shot. I prefer Java.
A moment later I got an invitation for the meeting and connected. Like always, I lost myself in the coding. It was like speaking another language, where the letters and numbers I typed created my own reality. It provided the typical “given this input, produce this output” type of questions. I attacked it like a maze, having to solve many little problems before I was able to take the big one. In interviews like these, it’s notifyou solve the problem buthow.I ran my code repeatedly, and before I realized it, an hour had gone. But I’d accomplished the task. In the chat window, Melvin typed,I have to run to another meeting. Mind if I run a problem by you later?
I gulped.Looking forward to it.
A little while later, an email popped up in my inbox. It had been forwarded to me from Melvin, originally from his own supervisor, which would sort of make him my grandboss, I guessed. He was asking Melvin to explain the ins and outs of our current project, and Melvin’s forward included the note,Can you answer these questions please? Send back to me directly.
I read through it a few times. Did Melvin not understand what we were doing? Was it beneath him or further evidence that the rumors were true? I fired off a response that outlined all the aspects of our software, how it worked, and how it enhanced the client experience.
I got no response to my email, which was fine. I kept trucking through my workload, until another email came through.Are you able to bullet point this? ASAP pls.It was a message discussing a competitor’s software and how its highlights differed from the product we were producing. I chewed on my lip. Weird. It wasn’t exactly high-concept, so I outlined my response like I was talking to a five-year-old. I hoped he would be grateful and not offended. Or both, so long as he wasn’tjustoffended.
If all went well, this could be the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship. That was probably too much to hope for, though. I knew from every fairy tale Dad had ever read to me that you had to be careful what you wished for.
Chapter 4
I kept digging the hole, and it kept getting deeper. The next few weeks flew by with Melvin forwarding messages, often confidential and above my pay grade, and asking me to explain them. It really underscored that his old-white-man-ness or some weird glitch in the system had gotten him promoted above his ability. I mean, he did have a reputation for sinking most projects he was attached to, but one department just moved him to another one, and then another one, and he seemed to squeak by every time. But he trusted me, and it was an amazing feeling. So I broke down each message for him and sent it back. They went into a black hole of no response, but he must have liked what I was doing because the messages kept coming.
Occasionally, I let him know that I wasn’t available right away so I didn’t look too needy for attention. If he contacted me outside business hours, I was busy brewing my own craft beer, or finishing up my flight training to become a licensed pilot, or I was at Home Depot (which was sort of a masculine equivalent to T.J. Maxx). Always leave them wanting more, right? Granted, I wandered a little into stereotypical manly activities,but he never questioned it. I didn’t go overboard, like saying I was wrestling a bear for charity, but I tried to give the impression I led an action-packed life. I wanted him to think the job was a part of my life, but I was so cool that it wasn’t mywholelife, so to speak. Which wasn’t true, unfortunately. If I’d actually told him I was too busy to drop everything because I was playingAnimal Crossingin bed after hours, or building Lego sets, or still working up my nerve to buy a fish for my empty tank, I sincerely doubt he would have responded the same way.
I was digging a hole I’d probably never get out of, but what I did on my own time was none of his business, I rationalized. And then he started to ask my opinion on operational decisions.
Should we take on this business? Should we hire that contractor? What should be on the meeting agenda for next week?
But did he wantmyopinion or a man’s opinion? It didn’t matter. The ideas I offered were my own, and for the first time at work, someone really wanted to hear them.
