Page 10 of Unexpected You
“Thank you. It’s a mess right now, but I’m hoping you can bring it back to its former glory,” I said, and she looked scared again but then she clenched her jaw and nodded again.
“Content moderation is key. I have volunteer admins, but you’ll be in charge of wrangling them and dealing with any larger crises that evolve. And there have been a few,” I said. Some of them over the years had gone viral and I’d had to step in myself and set people straight on how things worked in my little community.
Even this many years into being a somewhat famous author it still shocked me that people cared so much about what I had to say. It made posting in public a little harrowing, because every word would be scrutinized and dissected by my fans. They would read into anything and think I was giving them hidden messages about new books or old books or lore.
“I’m sure. That’s inevitable when you’ve got a group of people on the internet together. Regular social norms go out the window and anarchy rules. I’ve done moderation before, so that’s nothing new.” I had seen that on her résumé, so I was glad she seemed confident about this task.
“Why don’t you take a little while and just familiarize yourself with the site and my posts and everything else?” I asked. I needed some coffee immediately.
Cadence sat down at the chair I’d pulled up for her at the second desk that Mary used to occupy. I swallowed past a lump in my throat when I thought about the last time a person had sat at that desk.
I rubbed my forehead where I could feel a headache starting to take root. Migraines had plagued me off and on for years, but if I took my medicine now, I could head it off at the pass. The stress of having a new employee must have triggered it.
When I stood up, I found Cadence watching me and not her computer. “Do you need anything? I was serious about the coffee. I can make you a snack or something too.” Mary had always fed me whether I wanted her to or not, but Cadence was still a stranger to me, and I wasn’t comfortable with her rummaging around in my fridge just yet.
“Coffee is fine for now,” I said, and then realized that I’d have to show her how I liked it. It might be her first day, but she was going to learn. “Come with me.”
She followed me into the kitchen and watched as I pulled out the French press and gave her exacting instructions on how much coffee to use, how to pour, and how long the process would take.
“This is very expensive coffee and I don’t want it wasted. Understood?”
She’d been furiously scribbling and looked up, nodding at me. “Yes.”
I’d probably scared her, but hopefully that meant she’d do it right.
“How do you take your coffee?” I asked when it was ready. She’d been writing more notes about who knew what in the meantime.
“Oh, uh, I like mine with a lot of creamer,” she said, her cheeks going a little red, as if she was embarrassed about her preferences. Honestly, it wasn’t surprising.
“I have cream, but if you want flavoring or something like that, you’re out of luck. I do have vanilla on hand. You can order whatever you need.”
That seemed to surprise her, so I got out the cream for both of us and the vanilla, as well as some sugar for me.
I made her watch while I poured the cream and added two spoonfuls of sugar.
“That’s the right color,” I told her. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.
“There. Now I know what color to shoot for,” she said, and I had to admit, that made perfect sense. Maybe she was going to be a competent assistant after all.
* * *
Cadence
Being in her home was terrifying. Not just because I was afraid to break or damage or mess anything up, but also because she was kind of terrifying. Her presence was just…so assured. This was a woman who knew exactly who she was and had never questioned it. Her authority was also unquestioned and now I was required to meet her expectations and I was scared as hell.
She hadn’t even asked me to do anything that hard, but she watched my every move and missed nothing. If I made a single typo, this woman was going to know. She wouldn’t even need to look. She’d just sense it.
As a result, I was on edge the entire day. It was exhausting. I sat straight in my chair and did my best not to fidget or make any excessive noise. I’d never been to catholic school, but it was how I imagined that would be, with disapproving nuns walking around and punishing you if you breathed wrong.
I wanted to put on my headphones and turn on some music or a podcast or something, but apparently Eloise Roth liked silence. The most silent silence I’d ever experienced, and it was digging into my skin and making me want to scream. I’d have to deal with it today, but maybe in future I’d ask about headphones. Because I couldn’t live like this.
The day crawled by as I tried to get a handle on this new job. Eloise had asked me to come in person all this week so I could come to her with any questions right away. I assumed it was also so she could keep an eye on me with this expensive new laptop that I was so worried about damaging or dropping. At least she’d bought a protective case.
The second desk that I guess was mine now was positioned perpendicular to hers so I could see her out of the corner of my eye. All the time. To say she was a distraction was a massive understatement.
I’d never seen someone have such intense focus in my life. She typed the way she did everything else. With intense purpose. I didn’t need to read what she’d worked on today to know that there were probably very few typos or mistakes. I bet she was an editor’s dream.
Her pace was steady, barely ever stopping or pausing. I wanted to ask her how many pages she wrote every day. What had gotten her started writing. If she loved it. She must love it, right? You didn’t do something for that long that required that much work without loving it. At least I couldn’t. But then I could barely commit to any kind of career in the long term. Eventually I’d get bored and stop trying. Or something else would go wrong.