The I.T. Girl (11 page)

Begrudgingly, I refolded my clothes into the boxes around my
bed. Then I tidied the dressing table, gathering back together the scattered makeup
and hair products. In the living room I flattened down some boxes ready for recycling
and straightened the tall piles of CDs and books stacked along the walls. Everything
I own is piled against a wall, I thought.

I had to cross the park to the tube station, in the afternoon.
Bent trees showed the path of the wind overnight and new flowers had been whipped
into shyness. I saw him standing beneath a tube sign. His leather jacket was buttoned
to his chin and he was wearing chunky boots. He held open an A-Z and was squinting
up at street names.

‘Lost your way, Columbus?’ I said.

‘I wasn’t sure which exit to come up.’

‘Yeah, I know, there’re loads of exits. But I’m on the other
side of the park.’

We crossed the road and entered through the turnstile.

‘Glad it’s the weekend?’ I asked.

‘Silly question,’ he observed.

I wanted to talk about
CouperDaye
.
I knew he was finally getting itchy feet but we had a rule.

‘Look at that little dog.’ I said instead. ‘He’s about to come
off the ground.’ A miniature terrier splashed his legs in the breeze but he couldn’t
quite get a grip. We laughed as his owner picked him up and cuddled him against
her arm.

‘We’re here,’ I said when we reached the short driveway. We climbed
the creaking stairs to the third floor and quickly went inside closing the door
against licks of wind.

‘
Wooh
!’
I
laughed and shook out my hair freeing small leaves.

‘Doesn’t seem to be letting up,’ he said teasing a twig out of
my hair. He freed himself of his bulky jacket and looked around the living room.
‘There’s good light in here.’ The floorboards creaked beneath his heavier step.
‘Here, this is for you.’ He handed me a paper bag.

‘Oh, thank you.’ I reached to kiss him but we got the side of
each other’s mouth.

‘Nice paint job.’ He spotted the wall with patch-work colour
samples.

‘What do you think?
Cream and yellow colours
for the living room.’

‘Right.’
He took his time, looking around
at the windows and then up at the ceiling. He began inspecting the window frames,
testing for an air gap. Then he knocked on the walls.

‘I did get a survey.’

‘Hmmm, just thinking, if you ever wanted to knock that wall,
you might be able to extend the living room.’ He started tapping the floor.

‘I like the floor,’ I protested.

‘It’s sturdy,’ he agreed.

‘Would you like some of your wine?’ I offered, holding up the
paper bag.

‘I’d prefer water if that’s okay.’

I went under the archway into the purpose-built square kitchen.
‘I had to clean everything in here. It was so filthy,’ I said, feeling the tap-water
get cold on my fingers.

‘Cool,’ he said following me in. ‘You can cook me dinner sometime.’
His mouth found the nape of my neck.

‘I think that’s against our rules.’ I handed him the wet glass.

‘Then I could cook for you.’

‘Well, technically that’s the same thing.’ I ducked around him
and went back under the archway.

‘Maybe we could cook individual meals in separate kitchens but
at the same time,’ he said after me.

I looked back laughing but he wasn’t smiling. ‘Is everything
okay?’ I stopped.

‘Sure,’ he said.
‘Mustn’t break the rules.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing,’ he barely shrugged.

I flapped a hand out gesturing the bathroom and then went in
over the cool laminate floor.

‘What have you done in here?’ he asked leaning a hand against
the doorframe.

I screwed my eyes at the question. ‘I’m going to replace the
floor with the wood that’s out there.’

‘Wood in the bathroom.’
He cocked his
head. ‘You want to make sure it’s sealed properly.’

‘Right.’
I raised my eyes to heaven.

‘Or not.
You could just let it flood
quietly below the floorboards.’

‘Maybe I will.’ I went back out underneath his arm and opened
the opposite door.

‘Your bed.’
He recognised it, following
me in.

‘It’s one of the few pieces of furniture I actually own.’ I ran
my hand over the iron frame.

‘Well, you’ve got me where you want me,’ he said, coming towards
me.

‘I’ve had a rough week.’ I pouted and leaned into him.

‘Me too.’

‘Let’s just forget about it.’

He brought his hand to my face and we kissed. I pulled off his
jumper and kissed down his chest until I found the soft part of his stomach and
then the tension and then the taste.

The sun winked off a glass tower as I made my way around the
R&D floor to a Buddy meeting with Boris. I mentally went over the points I was
going to make and joined him at the oval table.

‘This looks quite good,’ he said flicking through my
BelOpt
specs.

‘Boris, how can you say that? I don’t know what I’m doing.’

‘Has Phil taken a look?’

‘No. And he’s ignoring my emails now too.’

‘I’ll talk to him.’ He made a note.

‘Look, Boris, I’m really afraid of missing some requirement.
I don’t know the significance of things and –’

‘Well that’s why we’re having these meetings,
Orla
.
Flowcharts, please?’

I pushed them over and he began ticking boxes on a list. It was
a checklist of what I had to produce for him.

‘Any word of our training yet?
My deadline
is only a few weeks away.’

‘You’ve had Market Data training.’

‘What? Was that it?
An hour about terminology?
That’s a joke. I mean, Boris.’ I started laughing, ‘this whole thing is just crazy.
It’s going to fall on its face.’

‘You got a test spec written yet?’

‘No.
Will write the test based on implementation.’

‘I thought we were incorporating test first development?’

‘Yeah.
Test first development, Boris.
Not test first design.’

‘Look.’ He put down his pen. ‘Can you just answer the questions
without being smart?’

‘Oh... sorry.’

‘What’s your schedule for the rest of the week?’

‘I’ve started development on
BelOpt
and in the meantime I’ve passed that spec on to Desktop.’ I nodded at the specification
in his hands. ‘Also working on a bug-fix for Germany and I have a few other investigation
reports.’

‘What’s Germany?’

‘The IDs are being calculated incorrectly for OTCs. Looks like
it’s
always been there and no one’s noticed.’

‘Okay. Make sure you get your code reviewed by Sam before rolling
it out.
Any other problems?’

‘Are you joking?’

‘Look
Orla
. I don’t think your attitude
is conducive to your situation, to be honest. I mean if I were you, I’d see this
process as a positive thing. Something I could use to my benefit.’

‘Boris, do you not realise, I don’t know what I’m doing.’ I said
it louder than I meant to.

‘It’s actually perfectly simple,’ he snapped back, ‘you try your
best. If you’re stuck we’ll get you help. As a senior you should be able to handle
this,
Orla
. Things could go smoothly, if everyone would
just make the effort!’

The evenings were getting longer. Through the concrete landscape
patches of daylight stuck around while I stayed back to take care of project updates.
I became obsessed with detail.
Where before I would update with
a summary, now I made sure everything had an explanation.
Exchange conversations.
How long I’d waited for feedback. Test results. I had seen other peoples updates
take this tone before and wondered if they were defensive for a reason.

There was always a noticeable drop in temperature around 8 p.m.
If I was working late, the sudden cold air would tell me it was time to call it
a night. One evening I was reading my project updates, going over about one week’s
worth of work, making sure everything looked solid. I shivered and checked my computer
clock, it was 8:15. I took out my earphones and sighed. I’d get home around 9:30.
I couldn’t remember if there was food in the fridge.

‘Hard at it?’

I jumped, not realising anyone else was still in the office.

‘Just doing some paperwork.
Working out deadlines and such.’
I recognised Boris’s voice and
strained to listen.

‘Because I noticed some of those projects don’t have deadlines
yet.’ The first voice was Felix. I peaked over my cube and saw him leaning on the
frame of Boris’s cube.

‘That is what I am just about to update,’ Boris chirped.

‘Good. How’s everything going?’

‘Everyone is working away on a project. We have lift-off.’ Boris
chuckled.

‘Glad to hear it. We can’t afford to take our foot off the pedal.’

‘Yes I know.’ Boris’ voice turned prickly. Tension amongst management
had increased since network issues were threatening the Data Centre deadline. I
refocused on my screen as I heard Felix say, ‘J.R. knows about some of the problems
now.’ I had problems too. The one test result I hadn’t included in my updates was
the one that was failing. My Strategies graph didn’t match the sample the Exchange
had provided. A bug had slipped into my code somehow.

‘Why are you working late?’ Boris continued. ‘Doing a bit of
fire-fighting?’

‘I’m overseeing a conference call in New York – did you know
the Chinese have the same word for problem as they do opportunity?’

‘Very wise, the Chinese.
Is there...
an
opportunity
in New York?’

‘The opportunity is for people to be empowered to do a better
job.’ I heard a thud from Felix thumping the light cube wall. ‘Some people just
want to sit around on their ass and stagnate.’ Felix’s voice rose with impatience.
‘But I’ve changed their job titles.’

‘I’ve been meaning to mention that actually. Perhaps a transitional
period wouldn’t be such a bad idea,’ Boris said. ‘I mean, my guys have been asking
for one.’

‘No, no, no. That is not acceptable. You have to stick with a
plan.’

‘But perhaps they could help each other out a bit here and there.
Just for a while.’

‘If you allow that, they’ll fall back into their old roles.’

‘Come on Boris,’ I whispered.

‘... and the transition will never happen.’ Felix continued.
‘What they need to do is use the correct routes to get the support we’ve put in
place for them.’ Felix tapped the light frame as he spoke.

‘Well, the thing is though, the thing is, people feel like they’re
being forced.’ Boris protested.

‘They are being forced. You know, people don’t like change. It’s
human nature. They’ll always take the easy path.’

‘I suppose.’

‘People need a strong leader.’ Felix snapped. ‘Donald in New
York doesn’t know how to lead. That’s why I have to stay back here tonight.’

‘Oh, I mean, I’m definitely –’ Boris’s voice came louder.

‘You see it in nature all the time,’ Felix interrupted him, ‘it’s
instinct. Like a pack of wolves. If you’re not on board with a thing, they’ll smell
it. They can smell weakness.’

‘I’m definitely a strong leader and I’m setting out clear steps
for my guys to follow.’ Boris insisted. ‘I used to be a programmer, remember? So
I know how to relate to them.’

‘I used to sit over there when I had your job,’ Felix said, ‘we
were much smaller then. We weren’t even sure if London R&D would make it. You
know I used to be a trader?’

‘Yes, you’ve mentioned it.’

‘It was a different job then. Back when you didn’t have to pussy-foot
around all this political correctness. We’d call a spade a spade.’

‘And a skirt a skirt.’
Boris joined
in.

‘Right,’ Felix said with a rumbling chuckle. ‘And you did what
you had to do for the company. Nothing was handed to me on a plate. I didn't go
around quoting the terms of my contract.’

‘It's all
What
can the company do
for me?
these
days,’ Boris said.

A moaning, whining sound invaded the floor. The vacuuming had
started. Thankfully I couldn’t hear them anymore. I looked at my screen. It still
had the last email I sent to Boris. What was the point in sending it? Boris didn’t
know how to stand up for us. He only knew how to say what people wanted to hear.
I looked around my desk for my handbag. It was sitting on the floor. I delicately
picked it up and lifted my ID badge off the desk. I would never get the support
I needed from Boris, I realised. I was going to have to look for it elsewhere.

Crouching down I sneaked to the end of the floor. ‘Evening,’
I whispered to the cleaner who looked at me like I was an old pair of shoes blocking
the way. I straightened up once I turned the corner and hurried to the exit.

The HR department was six floors up. I was only there once before,
for my interview and hadn’t been back since joining the company. When the lifts
opened a man was walking up to meet them with a tilted head.

‘Good morning. Are you
Orla
?’ he asked.
Bright blue rimmed glasses sat across his nose and he was wearing a buttoned up
cardigan over his shirt.

‘Yes, Ellis?’

‘Yes, hi.
Thought I'd come round to
get you. You'd never find the room by yourself,’ he said with the lilt of a Scottish
accent.

We began walking down a corridor with meeting rooms on either
side. Like our floor, the walls and doors were glass. But inside, theirs were furnished
with couches and coffee tables and flowers. Some of the rooms had frosted glass.