Beyond The Boardroom(2)

Amazed him to admit it, but there it was. He'd been getting a charge out  of running The Buzz for months now. Surprisingly enough, Shane realized  he was pleased. Proud, even, of how well The Buzz was doing. He'd gone  into this contest with halfhearted enthusiasm. But as the months had  worn on, Shane had found himself being swept up into the competitive  spirit. Nothing an Elliott liked better than a contest.
                       
       
           



       
"So-" Jonathon was wrapping up his speech "-I figure if we shell out top  dollar to a few of the biggest celebrities, the rest of ‘em will come  along, too.

Nobody wants to feel left out."

Before Shane could respond, Sandy stood up, brushed her short blond hair  back from her eyes and narrowed her gaze on Jon. "And if we pay top  dollar for a handful of celebs, who's going to offset that expenditure?"

"You have to pay to play," Jon said smugly, shooting a glance at Shane as if knowing he'd back him up.

And he did. "Jon's right, Sandy," he said, holding up one hand to keep  his managing editor's temper in check. "We get the right people into  that issue, the advertisers will line up to be a part of it. Plus, we'll  sell more copies."

"The budget's already stretched pretty thin, Shane," Sandy said, sneering at Jon's gleeful chortle.

"Bull." Shane stood up behind his desk, swept the edges of his jacket  back and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You know as well as I do  that the profit margins are way up. We're beating the pants off the rest  of the Elliott magazines. And we're going to keep doing it. And the way  we're going to keep doing it is by not cutting corners."

Jon slapped one hand to his chest and bowed his head as if in prayer.

"Brilliant, my king, brilliant."

Shane laughed at the dramatics, but hey, it was good to be king.

"You're only saying that because you won," Sandy pointed out.

"Sure," Jon said, grinning at her now that he'd made his point.

"Before the bloodletting starts up again," Shane interrupted, looking  from one editor to the other, "has either of you made any headway on the  job I gave you?"

Jon and Sandy looked at each other, shrugged, then turned back to Shane.

"Nope." Sandy spoke first, clearly reluctant to admit that she'd failed.  "I've talked to everyone I know and nobody has a clue about this  woman's identity."

"I second that," Jon said, obviously disappointed. "Our little Tess is  like Spider-Man or something, keeping her secret identity so secret,  there's not even a whisper of gossip about her."

Just what Shane hadn't wanted to hear. Damn it. Tess Tells All was the  most popular column in his magazine. They'd picked up thousands of new  readers thanks to the anonymous woman's talent for being both funny and  insightful.

Seven months ago The Buzz had carried the very first of the mystery woman's columns.

The response had been immediate. Calls, e-mails, letters, all from  people who wanted to read more from Tess. But the woman was untraceable.  She faxed her monthly column in from a different location in the city  every time and her checks were sent to a PO box and then forwarded to  yet another.

As well as The Buzz was doing, Shane knew it would be doing even better  if he could just talk this woman into writing a weekly column. But she  hadn't answered any letters he'd sent and all other attempts at  communication had failed.

Making him one very frustrated man.

"Fine," he said on a sigh. "Never mind. Just keep looking for her." Then  he sat down behind his desk, waved one hand at them dismissively and  picked up the latest column by the mysterious Tess. He didn't even look  up when his co-workers left his office.

He read every issue of The Buzz before it was laid out for production  and eventual printing. The only way to keep a handle on what his  magazine was doing was for him to stay involved. From the ground up.

But reading this particular column was always a pleasure. He leaned back  in the black leather chair and swung around until he was facing the  snow-dusted bank of windows overlooking Manhattan. He smiled ruefully as  he read.

Tess says, the secret to surviving your boss is to never let him know  you understand him. The poor guy's got to have a few illusions.

My boss thinks he's mysterious. Right. About as mysterious as a pot of  chicken soup. The man, like all others of his gender, is so very  predictable.

Just last week, I set up two "first dates" for him. At the same  restaurant, with the same meal, the same wine. Only the names of the  women were changed.

Mysterious? Hardly.

I juggle his women just like I juggle his business meetings. The man has  made me a good enough juggler that I could be making twice as much  money working at a circus-and hey, the co-workers wouldn't change that  much!

Shane chuckled. Tess was good, but he felt sorry for her. Working for a man like that couldn't be easy.

When it comes to business, though, he's at the top of his game when  everything around him is falling to pieces. Which, I suppose, is why I'm  still here after all this time. Despite having to run the man's social  life, I do enjoy being at the top. I like being the right hand  woman-even if sometimes I feel invisible.                       
       
           



       

Invisible? Shane shook his head. How could a woman like Tess go unnoticed by anyone?

Maybe it's the time of year that's got me thinking about my life. Sure,  you're reading this column sometime in March, but as I write this, it's  December.

Snow's falling outside, turning Manhattan into a postcard. Wreaths are  up on the shop windows, twinkling lights are everywhere and people are  ice skating in Rockefeller Center.

The old year is winding down and a new one's getting ready to roll. And I  have to ask myself if I really want to maintain the status quo. Is this  all there is? Do I really want to keep working for a man who treats me  like a well-trained dog? Toss me a treat every now and then so I'll keep  running and fetching?

He frowned, wondering why the tone of Tess's column had suddenly changed.

Usually she was funny, lighthearted. Making jokes about her boss and  underlining, apparently, how every other assistant in the country felt  about his or her job.

When he read the next line, he sat up straight in his chair and scowled at the page.

Wonder what he'd do if I quit?

Quit?

She couldn't quit. Hell, her column was too damn popular for her to quit  working. If she walked away from her job, she wouldn't be writing this  column anymore and where did that leave The Buzz?

The truth is, my boss probably wouldn't even notice I was gone until his  dry cleaning went unclaimed or until he had to make his own  reservations for dinner with the latest wide-eyed blonde. So why'm I  still here?

I think we all know the answer to that.

I've let him become too important to me.

I spend more time living his life than I do living my own.

Shane really didn't like the sound of this.

What do you readers think? Should I give it up and stop torturing  myself? Should I finally realize that he's never going to look up and  notice me? The real me? Should I accept that all I'll ever be to him is  an excellent assistant?

Shane grumbled and finished reading the column with a snarl on his face.

The answer to that question is no. The time has come to leave my job and  move on to something else while I still can. To all of you assistants  out there-all of

you who've written to me over the last several months, telling me your own stories-I guess this is goodbye.

Goodbye?

By the time you read this, I'll probably be long gone. I'll miss you guys. I'll miss this column. Heck, I'll miss the boss, too.

I wish you all the best of luck with your own bosses and I'll never forget any of you.





Chapter 2





Shane hit the intercom button and when Rachel answered second later, he snapped, "Come in here for a minute, please."

A moment later the double doors opened and Rachel stepped in, carrying a steno pad. "What's up?"

"Did you see the Tess Tells All column for March?"

"Yeeesss … " One word came out in four distinct syllables.

"So you know she's thinking about quitting her job?"

Rachel took a deep breath and turned her back on him for a second.  Deliberately she schooled her features into a politely interested mask.  Deciding to quit her job hadn't been an easily reached decision, but she  knew it was the right one.

Asking her readers for their votes had merely been a way of breaking the news about that decision.

Quietly she shut the door then walked across the thick red carpet toward his desk. "I read it. What's the problem?"

"The problem?" Shane dropped Tess's column onto his desktop and stood  up. "She's too popular with our readers, that's the problem. She can't  quit her job. We need her column."