The Encounter
Emily watched the barista with growing urgency as he steamed the water and then walked over to a set of three empty glass coffee funnels and decanters. He placed a filter over the middle funnel, tipped the water over the filter, and looked at Emily, pushing his square glasses up.
āWe do this to clean the filter,ā he said. āMakes better coffee.ā
She offered a half-smile and checked her watch, which was buzzing from the emails already coming in. Shifting her weightā her laptop bag felt especially heavy that morningāshe ran a hand through her dark brown hair, twisting it briefly before letting it fall, a nervous habit sheād picked up in adulthood. She looked out the window. When she glanced back in the direction of the barista, he was steaming more water. With a grimace, she looked at her watch again as he scooped coffee grounds into the filter.
Scoop, dump, scoop, dump, scoop, dump. Sigh.
He walked to the back counter to retrieve the steaming water and poured it over the grounds with an impressive slowness. The coffee drip-drip-dripped into the waiting glass container. Emily let out a subtle but exasperated breath.
āI can bring this to your table,ā the barista said. āThatās what we normally do.ā
Now you tell me, she thought, as she said aloud, āGreat.ā
Emily rushed up the stairs and unloaded the contents of her work bag onto the long oak table. She opened her laptop, set out her notes, and pulled up her presentation file before checking her watch again.
Scrolling through the slides, she felt confident. She told herself it was going to go perfectlyāshe was prepared, well rested, and had even gotten a workout in that morning, not to mention the bike ride to the coffee shop. Now, she just needed to do final preparations. But as Emily scrolled to the fourteenth slide, she paused, panicked. The slide was blank. Where was the text sheād put in the night before?
Hastily, she continued scrolling. Slides fifteen, sixteen, seventeenāthey were all blank.
With growing panic, she began looking through her handwritten notes. She would have to recreate the presentation. But first, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another.
āHere you go.ā
Emily jumped at the voice behind her. She laughed nervously. āSmells delicious. Thanks.ā
The barista set the coffee on the table to her right as Emily began remaking the presentation she was set to give in an hour and forty minutes. Those slides had taken her nearly three hours to create the first time; hopefully sheād be able to whip them together before the meeting. So much for the additional prep sheād planned to do that morning.
Emily reached for the coffee, her eyes still on her screen. A second later, hot liquid was all over the table. She scooped up her laptop and notes just in time.
āDang it, dang it, dang it.ā After relocating her items to the other end of the table, she turned around to search for napkins, nearly colliding with someone. She jumped back as a man extended a stack of napkins.
āLooking for these?ā he said.
āOh, yeah. Thanks.ā She paused momentarily before smiling and taking the stack from him. The man went to grab more napkins and then walked over to help mop up the mess.
āHere, Iāll take the wet towels,ā he offered, gathering up the dripping paper.
āThank you.ā
As Emily finished drying the table, all she could think about was her presentation. She set to work getting her area reorganized.
The man returned from throwing away the second set of wet towels. āAll dry?ā
Emily looked up from her work space and surveyed the man in front of her. He had neatly styled white hair and wore a button-up shirt, tailored jeans, and brown leather dress shoes. His eyes wrinkled into a genuine smile just as Emily realized how odd it must seem that she was standing there staring at him. She smiled back.
āYes, thanks so much.ā
He nodded and reached out his hand. āIām David.ā
āDavid. Iām Emily.ā She shook his hand. āThanks, again.ā
āOf course.ā He looked toward her ordered workstation. āMay I ask what youāre working on?ā
āI have a big presentation ināāshe checked her watch and lifted her eyebrows in surpriseāāan hour and a half. If youāll excuse me, I need to get back to work.ā
āOf course.ā David made his way back to his table, which was directly across from hers. He picked up his tablet, returning to the news article heād been reading.
Over the next hour, Emily focused intently on her computer screen, her hands moving furiously. With five minutes to spare, she saved the file three times just to be sure. Finally, she gathered her items, placed them in her bag, and rushed out the door without looking back. She didnāt realize David was watching her the whole time.
āGood job today,ā Mitchell said. The conference room had cleared out, and Emily was gathering her presentation materials. She still felt the familiar rush of an excellent presentationāher mind sharp, body energized, breathing a bit shallower than normal. She smiled at Mitchell.
āDo you think theyāre on board with how artificial intelligence can transform our business?ā
āItās hard to say. Theyāve been doing things the same way for years.ā
āTrue.ā
The room grew quiet. Mitchell lingered as Emily cleaned up.
āYou know, Iāve been wanting to knowāā Emily said.
āThereās something Iād like toāā Mitchell began.
āYou first,ā Emily said.
āWell, we both know you were up for a promotion.ā
āRight.ā Emily sensed what was coming next. Discussions never start that way when youāve gotten the job. āIām excited to be considered.ā
āYouāve been wowing everyone on this Asia project, myself included, with your hard work. Honestly, youāre one of the best Iāve seen.ā
āWell, thank you. This past month has been a good challenge.ā
āAnd youāve tackled the challenge head-onāāhe paused, looking at the table before raising his eyes to meet hersāābut I donāt think youāre quite ready for the next step.ā
āWhat?ā She startled herself with this response. Get it together, she thought.
āWeāve given the promotion to Stan.ā
Stan? Stan, the same guy sheād started her trainee program withāthe one whoād just received terrible ratings in his latest customer response survey and showed up late to meetings? Seriously?
āI see. Thanks for letting me know. So if I can ask, what am I missing?ā
Mitchell stretched his mouth into an attempted smile. āItāll be your time soon. I meant what I said. Youāre doing great.ā
āI appreciate that.ā
āOK, then.ā Mitchell knocked lightly on the desk twice. āSee you at 2 p.m. for our team meeting.ā
āSee you.ā
Emily hung back in the conference room. She sat at the head of the table, her elbows on the surface, hands together in a fist and forehead resting on her hands. Then she leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
This was the third promotion sheād been passed over for. She thought about the people whoād received promotions over the past two years: James, Kyle, Stan. She had gone through the same manager trainee program with themātheyād all been hired at the same time, started on the same day, and were deploying different parts of the same product. What gives?
Over the past month, sheād been watching the companyās monthly metrics. Her team had far surpassed Stanās in customer acquisition, retention, and satisfaction. They launched updates faster with fewer bugs, while Stanās team had been slowing down with launches and reporting more issues with their code. Her direct reports consistently praised her leadership, and while she liked Stan, sheād heard the rumblings of dissent within his team. It had been a similar story with James and Kyle. And yet they had gotten promotions and she hadnāt.
The last time this had happened, a good friend had suggested it might be because sheās a woman. Emily had rejected the idea at the time, but now she wasnāt so sure. She wanted to believe her confidence and intelligence outweighed centuries of bias, but she also didnāt want to be naĆÆve. It seemed there were too many signs to ignore.
Sheād worked for nearly a decade at this company, and now she felt stagnant. After missing the last promotion, sheād even gone to the lengths of conducting her own version of a 360 review, in which she solicited anonymous feedback from nearly a dozen people on her team and in her network. A few comments had stungātwo people said she was too direct and unemotional, one said she had trouble fully delegating projectsābut otherwise they were overwhelmingly positive. She couldnāt identify anything serious enough to be holding her back from getting promoted, and sheād been actively working to improve on issues called out during the review. One of the other managers had even made a comment about how well sheād delegated on a recent project, which had given her confidence that she was improving.
Emily shifted her attention to the ten executive chairs askew in the room. She sighed, then stood and walked to each chair, pushing them in. Three dirty coffee cups were on the table, and she gathered them one at a time. Someone had spilled a dime-sized coffee puddle, and as she retrieved a napkin from the beverage station at the back of the room, she stopped.
She stood there, three coffee cups in one hand and a napkin in the other. It had been ten years since sheād been the new manager trainee, and yet here she was, cleaning up after her colleagues and bosses like their mom. She did enough of that at home with her own child.
Emily walked around the table and set each coffee cup back where it had been, then made her way over to the beverage station and returned the napkin.
āI have begun my own quiet war,ā she whispered, reciting a section from her favorite book, The House on Mango Street. āSimple. Sure. I am the one who leaves the table like a man, without putting back the chair or picking up the plate.ā
She looked at the spilled coffee on the table with defiance, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked out of the room.
You Have Influence
Emily stood outside the renovated brick building, the aroma of gourmet coffee tempting her into Slow by Slow. Sheād been craving their pour-over coffee since sheād had her first cup the week beforeābefore she gave the presentation of her life, before she was passed over for a promotion she knew she deserved. Emilyās shoulders tightened as she remembered the conversation in the conference room. Why hadnāt she simply asked Mitchell why heād given the promotion to Stan? Why hadnāt she advocated for herself?
Within minutes, Emily had ordered her coffee and was making her way upstairs to a table. It was busy this morningānot exactly the tranquil work space...