Reminding Moments

Chapter two

“Anyone have any questions about the program so far?” I asked, my voice echoing in the conference room.

The silence that followed felt heavier than I expected. I stood there, awkwardly gripping the edge of the presentation table, eyes darting between my boss and her supervisor, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment. Nothing. They were both glued to their phones. My boss, Sandra, barely looked up, while her supervisor seemed more interested in whatever notifications were pinging on his screen.

Seriously? I thought. I spent hours—no, days—on this.

I cleared my throat, hoping it would grab their attention. “So, as I was saying, the program can forecast our earnings over the next two years instead of just the typical trimester analysis. It’s a more dynamic approach to—”

Sandra raised a hand, not to ask a question but to check the time on her watch. Then she leaned over to her supervisor, whispering something I couldn’t quite hear. They both chuckled quietly. My stomach twisted.

What the hell is so funny?

I continued, though my voice wavered. “It could really help with long-term planning, especially in terms of budgeting for new projects. I’ve outlined potential scenarios based on past data and…”

Why am I even bothering? They’re not listening.

I glanced back at the screen displaying my work. The graphs, the code—I had poured everything into this project. Every late night I sacrificed just to make sure this thing perfect. Yet here I was, standing in front of two people who couldn’t even be bothered to fake interest.

My chest tightened with frustration. My palms were starting to sweat, but I couldn’t wipe them on my slacks because that would show how nervous I was. I needed to keep my composure, at least on the outside.

“Sandra?” I ventured, trying to meet her eyes. Nothing. Just a quick glance and then she was back to typing something on her phone. A message? An email? God, anything but what I was saying.

“Thank you, Jade,” she finally said, barely lifting her head. “You can leave now.”

That was it. No feedback. No questions. Nothing.

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Um, okay. Is there anything specific you’d like me to…?”

“No, that’ll be all,” Sandra cut in, her glasses slipping down to the tip of her nose as she glanced at her screen again.

I forced a smile. “Right. Thanks.”

I turned and gathered my notes, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I could taste blood. As I walked out of the room, my heels clicking against the floor, I could hear them both already shifting their conversation to some other project. The door clicked shut behind me, and I let out a shaky breath, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline rush.

I wanted to scream.

Later that day…

“Girl, I swear I wanted to smash those glasses right off her face,” I fumed, pacing back and forth across Cami’s living room. I could feel the heat rising in my chest again just thinking about it. “I mean, she didn’t even bother to look at me for more than five seconds. Five seconds, Cami!”

Cami, sprawled on the couch with her legs tucked under her, sipped her drink calmly, her eyes following me as I paced. “Yeah, you seemed pissed when you walked in. Like, I-could-set-things-on-fire pissed,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“At the point when she thanked me and told me to leave, I wanted to quit on the spot,” I blurted, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Right there, in the middle of the conference room. Just ‘Screw you, Sandra, I’m done.’”

Cami let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s not act irrationally now, okay?” She held up her hands as if to slow me down. “I get it. You’re mad, and you have every right to be, but we need a backup plan before you go nuts and quit the job. You still need money to, you know, live.”

I stopped pacing and plopped down on the couch next to her, slumping back and running my hands through my hair. “I mean, I still have my trust fund, right?” I said, though even as the words came out, I wasn’t fully convinced.

Cami raised an eyebrow. “How much is in it?” she asked, reaching for the snack bowl on the coffee table.

“Around 30k?” I said, estimating.

She froze mid-sip, looking at me with wide eyes. “Girl, with this economy? That’s like, six months of rent and a couple of trips to Whole Foods. You’re gonna need a lot more than that to survive.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I sighed, grabbing a handful of M&Ms from the bowl. “But seriously, Cami, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life. And now you want me to figure out what to do with the money too?”

Cami stood up, making her way to the kitchen to refill her drink. I watched her move so casually, as if my whole existential crisis wasn’t unraveling in real-time right in front of her.

“I mean, come on,” she called from the kitchen. “You’re an intelligent woman. I bet if you actually sat down and thought about it, you’d figure out something to do with the trust fund.”

I groaned, leaning back into the couch and covering my face with my hands. “Can we not talk about that right now? I didn’t come over to have an existential crisis about my financial future. I came here tonight to work on this stupid list. You know, the one that’s supposed to stop me from dating any more losers?” I peeked through my fingers at her, waiting for her to come back and sit next to me.

Cami returned with a fresh drink in hand and sat down, nudging me with her shoulder. “Okay, fine. Let’s do your list. Shall we?” she said, half-sarcastically but with that soft smile that reminded me why she was my best friend.

“Yes, we shall,” I replied, finally cracking a grin. She always knew how to bring me back from the brink.

Cami leaned over, glancing at the list I had started on my phone. “So, you still got nothing?” She asked suspiciously

“ I mean in my defense I was going to start, but then work calls” explaining how I got interrupted by work

“Ok, then, let’s get to work. What’s your number one?” She was as ready as a soldier preparing to go in for a battle.

I stared at the screen, unsure. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, duh. Start with the basics. He’s gotta be kind, right?”

I nodded, typing it into my phone. “Kind.”

“And smart. You don’t want a dumbass. You’ve had enough of those. Sweetie” patting my shoulder in a sympathetic way. Now, I feel super judged right now

“Smart,” I echoed, typing again.

“Oh, and respectful. You need someone who respects your work and doesn’t just stare at his phone while you’re talking.”

I looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “That one was definitely about Sandra.”

Cami snorted. “Yeah, well, if your husband is anything like her, we’re starting over with a new list.”

I laughed out loud at her comment, I really needed this, it feels like the weight of the day slowly lifting as we brainstormed together. For the first time since the disastrous meeting, I didn’t feel like the world was crashing down on me.

“oh, here’s another one. He knows how to speak multiple languages” I said enthusiastically

“Oui, oui, Madam” that French imitation was horrible

“Yeah, just don’t do that again” showing some disgust on my face cuz of that horrible accent

We kept going like that for a while, listing out qualities both serious and silly, laughing at some and reflecting on others.

As the night went on, and my list grew longer, I realized something—Cami wasn’t just helping me make a list. She was helping me understand that I deserved better. That the bar wasn’t too high. That I was worthy of someone who matched me in every way.

If only I could apply that same energy to my job, trust fund. Maybe then I’d figure out what the hell I was doing with my life.