We’ve already chatted plenty on the phone, but I like him even more on sight.
I shake David’s hand with a smile. “So nice to put a face to the voice.”
“Back at you. Well, no point hanging around the lobby. What do you say we go meet the team upstairs?”
“Sounds great.”
David leads me towards the glossy bank of elevators, and he talks me through my schedule as our elevator ascends to the tenth floor. It’s a packed few days, from meeting the writing team to leading a workshop on our current voice and tone guidelines to chatting with the designers who help ensure our products sparkle.
David barely makes it through the first day’s schedule before the elevator doors slide open to reveal a bustling floor filled with light and energy. Clean, white walls showcase photographs from major world destinations. Where in the world has WanderWell been? asks a sign hanging over a six-foot-wide map of the world mounted on the lobby wall. Old-fashioned pins with tiny red and black heads dot the board, with paper flags looped around them to describe the employee’s name and date of the trip. These offices just look like fun, and every person smiles at me. I’m like the new kid on the block who also happens to know what I’m doing, and my chest feels light.
I didn’t realize how much good changing up the scenery would do for me, but this visit energizes me in a new way.
“You ready to get started?” David inclines his head toward the beckoning offices.
I smile back at him. “Absolutely.”
“Thank you so much for coming, everyone. I know I’m standing between you and lunch, so I won’t keep you any longer. But let’s stay in touch and keep the ideas flowing.” I rattle off my email address, and the conference room empties except for David, who spent the hour-long meeting sitting at the far end of the room, nodding along with each of my points like an overeager school kid.
He stands now and strolls toward me. “Excellent work, Lachlan. I really like the idea of putting in a cross-company system to capture and standardize the design practices and text patterns we use across the company.”
I nod as I gather up my laptop and slide it into my messenger bag. “I’ve been feeling it out with Curt and think it will help bridge the gap between the offices and allow both teams to contribute to the conversation.”
“We’d need to budget for it since it’s almost a full-time project, but I think it’s a worthwhile initiative.” He pauses. “Speaking of worthwhile initiatives, are you ready for lunch?”
“Yeah, food would be great.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Excellent. I hope you don’t mind, but I had lunch catered into my office. I know you’ve got a packed schedule for the next two days, but I wanted to carve out some time for just us to chat.”
“Sure.”
I finish gathering my gear and follow David through the maze of offices. He stops in front of a door bearing his name and opens it for me. In addition to the massive executive desk poised in front of floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the room boasts a seating area with two small, lime green couches squared off over a marble coffee table. The coffee table’s set for two with paper napkins and the same compostable cutlery I recognize from the Seattle office.
“Have a seat and I’ll check with the front desk about the food.”
When David leaves, I sit on the couch facing the window and pull out my phone.
Greer’s sent me a string of ice cream pictures, including one of old fashioned ice cream cones with legs and arms dancing their way conga-style into a grinning mouth.
Dear lord.
Since you’re not answering, I assume things are going well, she’s typed. Keep me posted.
I love the way text messages feel like a continuing conversation. Even if Greer’s not here in front of me right now, it feels like she’s here in my mind.
So far so good, I reply.
David returns to the office and closes the door behind him, and I put away my phone. “Another ten minutes or so,” he announces. “Why don’t we get started in the meantime.” He sits on the couch across from me and sprawls his arms over the backrest, then studies me for a minute before talking.
My cell phone buzzes in the silence, and though I can’t reach for it with David watching, my mind slips away to thoughts of Greer back in WanderWell’s Seattle office.
I wonder what she’s wearing today.
I wonder if she’s nibbling on the end of her pen the way she does when she’s busy thinking.
I wonder if she’s thinking about me too.
I’m not entirely prepared when David finally speaks. “Listen, Locke, I’m not going to dance around it. The team’s going to continue to grow, but we’re a little rudderless at the moment. That’s where you come in.”
Tingles run down my arms, and I blink at him. Talk about cutting to the chase. “Come in how?”
“I’ve been chatting with Curt, and we think your experience here could be a huge asset to the team and help us get up and running that much more quickly.”
“I think the workshop this morning was a good first step,” I agree.
David considers me. “You’ve been in your current role for how long now?”
“Five years or so,” I supply. Longer than any other relationship I’ve had.
He nods. “Five years. And you’re at the point where you’re ready to grow. The way I see it, someone in your position has two choices—either grow with the company or leave and take all your expertise somewhere else.”
“Okay.” I draw out the word, trying to figure where he’s going with this.
David gestures
