The Arc by Tory Henwood Hoen

Author:Tory Henwood Hoen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Chapter 20

November 6, 10:37 A.M.

When Ursula walked into Anonymous & Co.’s open office, the other forty-four employees started applauding. She rolled her eyes, assuming that Roger, who was both her boss and the agency’s founder, had put them up to this to shame her for her lateness. She usually got in by 10 A.M., but she’d spent last night uptown at Rafael’s apartment, and they’d taken their time getting out of bed this morning. She realized she hadn’t even checked her email yet as she swiftly made her way across the loft to her nook. Not even the five most senior executives at Anonymous & Co.—of which she was one—had offices with actual doors. (Doors were deemed too elitist, too psychologically dismissive.) Instead, the execs at Anonymous sat in glass-walled “nooks,” which were essentially transparent cubes that ran along one wall of the open space. Ursula’s made her feel like a turtle in a terrarium. She longed for opaque walls and a door she could close, or perhaps even slam on special occasions.

Ursula had only made it halfway to her nook when Roger jumped up on someone’s desk and shouted, “Ursula Byrne!”

The clapping subsided and Ursula turned around, confused. She wanted to respond by shouting “Roger Desjardins!” back at him, but she resisted. What was he up to?

“As most of you know, but it seems Ursula doesn’t—because she’s too important to check her email now—she has been nominated for a 2018 Brandy!” announced Roger, dramatically.

Ursula’s jaw dropped. In the wider world, no one cared about the Brandy Awards. But in her industry and adjacent industries, they were a Big Fucking Deal. In this room, she was a Big Fucking Deal.

“For Cruisify?” asked Ursula, naming her client that operated small, high-end cruises for young affluent folk who wouldn’t be caught dead on a traditional cruise ship. The campaign, “Cruisify Yourself,” had featured Instagram influencers sunbathing in poses that evoked crucifixion. It was controversial (which was Ursula’s intent), and had boosted Cruisify’s revenue by 400 percent since it debuted. This was part of her skillset: having good taste, but knowing exactly how and when to compromise it in order to drive value for her clients. Industry insiders agreed it was a risky but brilliant campaign.

Roger held out his hand and someone offered him a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

“Saber it!” an employee yelled from the far corner by the kombucha fridge.

“HR doesn’t let me do that anymore.” Roger grinned. He twisted the cork cleanly—a perfect pop, no spillage—and threw it toward an unsuspecting employee for disposal before hopping down and following Ursula to her nook, which was located in the far corner of the office. He grabbed two glasses off her bar cart and filled them, tipping them just so to prevent the foam from overflowing onto Ursula’s Moroccan shag rug.

“Ursula, I’ve said it before. I’ll say it many times again: you’re a genius,” said Roger. “You make me proud—proud of myself for hiring you. So maybe I’m the genius. Anyway, you make Anonymous & Co.

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