The I.T. Girl (12 page)

‘It’s an absolute maze here. For my first few months I got lost
every day,’ he continued. ‘But I drank a lot of water though
cause
I kept stopping by the water coolers. I'd take a wee sip and look around.’

I laughed as he directed us around a corner.

‘Are you finding it cold? There's a draft here somewhere. I don't
know what to wear on the way out the door these days,’ he said.

‘Yeah, I've got into my summer skirts but it may have been a
bit soon.’

‘Oh, you are brave.’

‘Well, I’m still wearing tights.’

‘Good thinking.’ We turned another corner. ‘Right, here we are.’
He pushed open a door. ‘Take a seat please.’

‘Thanks.’ We settled down over a low, wide coffee table. My knees
peaked over the edge of the table and I pressed my hands on them. Business magazines
including the
CouperDaye
journal were spread evenly between
us. ‘
Em
... Ellis is quite an unusual name,’ I ventured.

‘Yes. My mum was an Elvis fan. So, my parents compromised on
Ellis.
Lucky me.
Would you like some water or anything?’

‘No. I’m fine thank you.’

‘Right.
So, how is everything going
in R&D then?’

‘Well, I have some concerns that I would like to talk about,
which is why I asked for this meeting.’

‘I’m glad you made the appointment then.’ He opened a folder
on his lap and began writing.

‘Things are chaotic right now for our team. The merge between
developers and business analysts isn't working and management seem to be turning
a blind eye.’

‘Oh right. Well, in what way is it not working,
Orla
?’

‘Felix Stern sent around an email last month saying we had to
be expert in each other’s jobs in two months. But we've been given no training or
handover or proper guideline about the scope of the new role.’

‘Right.
I thought you were getting training.
Has that not happened yet?’

‘We’ve had an hour here and there on market terminology. But,
that’s not enough.’

‘Okay. Well that’s certainly something we can raise with your
managers, if you feel you’re not getting the training you need.’ He scribbled as
he spoke. ‘Now, this merge, it’s happening across the department, is that right?
It’s not just your team?’

‘Yes, all the development groups have merged with their analysis
counter-parts. But, the thing is, our team is different. Our analysts don’t just
write
our
specs, they act as project manager
for all the downstream teams involved in a project. And we’ve been told we have
no choice but to take on this management role.’

‘Right I see. Have you spoken with your immediate manager about
your concerns?’

‘He says I just have to make the best of it. But, I don’t know
if you know... I’m on a revision programme. I’m really worried about making mistakes.
I can’t afford for anything to go wrong.’

‘Yes, I know about the programme.’ He tapped the folder.

‘I feel like I've been made a scapegoat.
Like
the only thing that went wrong with METX was me.’

‘Right.
So, you feel that the programme
is unfair?’

‘Yes. And Felix Stern is harsh with me. I mean, he’s accused
me of not taking my job seriously, which is just really upsetting because I
do
take my job seriously. And now my immediate
manager is undermining me in front of everyone.’

Ellis shifted into the corner of his chair and slapped gently
the pages of his folder. ‘Well, we're working with R&D on improving management-employee
relations. But I think you should see this programme as a positive thing,
Orla
. It stands for fairness. You see,
because
it’s official, it actually lessens the chance that you could
be discriminated against. So you can see it that way rather than see it as a threat.
Also, you get more time with your manager so those things you’re saying about not
knowing your scope and so
on,
you now have more of an opportunity
than others to address that.’

‘But...’ I began to feel deflated by his blindness, ‘this programme
will always be on my record. That’s what bothers me.’

‘But once it's finished, we draw a line under the issue and say,
right,
Orla
Hanlon is able to do any project we give her.
She’s at senior level, end of story.’

‘But my senior status should not be questioned,’ I snapped. ‘I
was interviewed at senior level and I worked successfully on projects for six months
at senior level. I’ve been a senior for two years.’

‘I think we need to take a deep breath here and a step back.
Look. What about if Felix, you and I sit down together and talk about this?’

‘Oh no.
I don't think that would be
a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I don't think Felix likes me very much and that would
only make things worse.’

‘Oh I’m sure that Felix doesn’t dislike you,’ he chuckled. ‘But
if you feel you’re being discriminated against then we can talk about taking official
steps.’

‘No, I don’t want to do anything official. And I definitely want
this meeting to be just between you and me.’

‘Okay, that's okay.’

I eyed the folder Ellis was updating. He snapped it shut and
I wondered about its contents. Who would see it? What were the notes used for? And
would this meeting just be another waste of my time or could it actually prove detrimental?

Chapter Eight

Deelie
caught up behind me on the jogging
track. ‘
Orla
, you really took off,’ she said. ‘You want
to run alone or something?’

‘Hi
Deelie
.’
I was trying to catch up with the gazelles but I didn’t want to be rude. ‘No. How’s
it going?’

‘So hung-over – work thing last night.’
She paused to suck in more air. ‘Plans for the weekend?’

‘Painting.’
I panted back.

Our footsteps fell in sync as the path straightened.

‘No plans? Aren’t you seeing someone?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.
Casual.
Don’t see him every weekend.’

‘Don’t want something serious, huh?’

‘I’m still new here.
Should make friends.
And, have to put work first for a while.’

‘Pretty serious about your job.’

‘How’s the pace?’ I said, changing the subject.

We became single file crossing the gap into the second park.

‘What’s it like being the only woman?’
Deelie
asked.

‘You get used to it.’

‘You must really like what you do.’

‘I’ve always liked it.’ It was true and my usual reply but now
I realised it felt like a lie.

‘I’m impressed. I bet you do really well.’

I imagined myself explaining to her what was really happening.
I couldn’t. The truth was humiliating. ‘I manage,’ I finally mumbled between breaths.

‘Oh come on, you must be good at your job. Or else you wouldn’t
survive. You’re like a pioneer.’

‘No pain no gain.’ I accelerated along the path below the big
tree. I could feel my thighs beginning to burn.

‘
Orla
slow down.
George up ahead.
Seriously, pulse check.’

We came to a stop opposite each other and pressed fingers to
our wrists.

‘Do you have a watch?’ I looked at her.

‘No.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ I said as we both laughed. ‘Let’s stretch for
a bit.’

We made shapes in the path, triangles with our legs.

‘Any update on George?’ I asked.

‘There’s a club social coming up soon. He’s going. He asked me
if I was going.’

‘Really?
That sounds promising.’

‘I think he was just being nice.’ She shrugged. ‘You
coming?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Oh c’mon.
I need a wingman.’

‘You know, I really don’t think I fit in here to be honest.’

‘Neither do
I
. You mean because it’s
cliquey? You just have to ignore that.’ She squinted at me, tilting her head.

The social scene was why I joined the club in the first place,
I remembered. ‘You’re right,’ I nodded, ‘and I
do
want to see you finally put the moves on George.’

‘Great.’

‘C’mon. He’s gone,’ I said looking ahead.

We started running again.

I stretched more at home before taking a shower and then ordered
my usual pizza for dinner. My rescued frames were laid out on paper on the living
room floor. After eating, I gently sandpapered each of them. They were warped but
there were no signs of wood rot, to my knowledge, and according to the website I
consulted. I tried to knock off the rough bits, although they would never be totally
straight. As I worked, the only sound was the hum and click of the central heating
turning on and off and the occasional sound-wave coming from the surrounding apartments
of people moving or laughing loudly. I applied the first layer of varnish to the
frames and left them to dry.

The hardware store I needed was a short tube ride away from work.
I didn’t tell Boris I’d be gone longer than my hour’s lunch break. He mightn’t have
let me go.

I pushed around a trolley, empty except for ceiling spotlights
that looked like bicycle lights and two rolls of masking tape. Painting was all
about the masking tape, I had discovered. Like a colouring book, I smoothed tape
around the window sills and over skirting, preparing the outline of my drawing.

Would I lose my home if I lost my job? The thought had been circling
my mind. As I moved into the test phase on
BelOpt
I had
found some bugs but something still wasn’t right with the Desktop display of Strategies.

A child rammed his truck into my trolley and then stood back
looking up at me.

‘Be careful,’ I said, ‘this is a very angry trolley.’

He ran back to his mother who turned around and peered at me
with narrowing eyes.

I watched her as she came over, hoping she would try to start
a fight. But she just picked up the truck and went back to her son. ‘Where did you
get this truck?’ I heard her say.

I got to the cash register with a list of furniture I had chosen
for delivery.
A chair, a bookshelf and matching bedside laps.

It had taken me two hours if anyone had noticed. I dropped my
head passing Felix’s office, with the square bag tight to my side.

With no other ideas, I went over the old examples again of how
to provide Desktop with strategies. Phil said the process was to send an XML formatted
file to the Desktop server with the strategy values provided by the exchange. I
didn’t know how to write XML but there were examples in other projects. I flicked
through the folder from my Market Data course. A strategy was a group of connected
markets, so that a trade in the strategy meant simultaneous trades in all of its
markets. A market named any tradable asset on an exchange. Markets that were part
of a strategy were called Legs. I had built the XML correctly as far as I could
see, containing the list of legs and the correct trading price in each leg. But
when I examined the Desktop graphs generated from my test data, the highest and
lowest prices indicated on the strategy lines were all wrong.

I posted Desktop an investigation request outlining how the values
were different between my test results and the sample sent by the Exchange. Perhaps
there was just something wrong with how they were reading my XML file or simply
something wrong with the graphical display. Then I emailed the Exchange asking them
if they could double-check their sample. I sent Phil an email too but I didn’t expect
to hear back from him. This was a low priority project after all. I held my head
in my hands over my desk and rubbed my temples, imagining I had been hit with a
bad headache. This whole thing is a joke, I thought. But I’m the one left holding
the joke.

A message beeped on my screen:

Felix Stern to
Orla
Hanlon

See me in my office

The familiar tone made my heart race. When I opened the door
of his office I was hit with cold prickles over my skin. Ellis was there too with
an empty chair next to him.

‘Hi,
Orla
.
How are you doing?’ Ellis smiled.

‘Fine thanks, Ellis,’ I said, sitting down.

‘I’m here,
Orla
, to facilitate a conversation
between you and Felix. Felix, would you like to go ahead?’

Felix ignored Ellis. ‘Were you at a
Tradeq
party last month?’

 
The question brought me
back to my school days. Were you in St. Mary’s school for the St. Marys disco on
Friday night? I wondered if a firm
no
would carry any water this time.

‘
Em
, yes.’

‘Who invited you?’ Felix asked.

‘No one,’ I said. ‘I thought we were all invited, we do business
with them.’

‘Those parties are for Exchange Group people only.’

‘Oh really?
I didn’t know that.’

‘You would have been made aware of our ethics policy during your
induction. We ask everyone to familiarise themselves with these guidelines,’ Ellis
explained carefully.

‘Now that I’m a business analyst as well as a developer, I thought
I was automatically invited.’

‘What? Are you being smart?’ Felix barked.

‘The Business Analysts go.’

‘I don’t give a fuck
who
goes!’

‘Okay,’ Ellis jumped in, ‘I think we need to take a deep breath.
Orla
, the issue here is that your behaviour could have
caused a situation for the company, and unfortunately the information that was relayed
to Felix is that you were behaving in an inappropriate manner with a member of the
Exchange.’