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Vanover nodded and left for a moment before returning with Tallie Hyde. She had a sharp nose and an equally pointed gaze with hazel eyes, pale skin, and a caramel-colored bob.
She glanced from my head to my bare feet. “Grounding only works if you’re not six hundred feet in the air,” she deadpanned.
I gave her a wry smile. “Is something happening? We don’t have a meeting scheduled.” The last thing I needed right now was a crisis.
“We do now,” she said, approaching my glass meeting table with an armful of manila folders. Her short hair fell over her face as she leaned over, stacking them neatly on the table.
“What is this?” I asked.
“You know not all PR happens in the outside world, right? Internal PR is an essential part of my position.”
I nodded slowly, standing across the table from her. It was important to keep the employees in the organization satisfied and help them feel like a part of the team. One of the reasons I’d been looking for just the right CPO for a while now and why I wrote a “Letter from the CEO” once a month.
Tallie tucked her bob behind one ear. “Well, Thomas is running a campaign of his own to undermine you as CEO. If you don’t watch out, not only will he tank this acquisition when it comes to a vote next quarter, but he’ll also get you booted from this position at the earliest opportunity.”
As if on cue, Vanover returned with my tea. If it wasn’t steaming hot, I would have chugged it. He handed it to me, then passed Tallie a cappuccino with a swan swirl on top.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. I swore her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than usual as he dipped his head and walked away.
We both sat at the table. I blew on the tea and then took a scalding drink before setting it down. “Tell me you have a plan. Because right now, the only idea I can come up with is decking him in the nose.”
“Good thing that scenario is included in our emergency procedures.”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking.
She took another drink, and for a moment, it struck me how different it was to be sitting at this table with Tallie, when I used to be at the secretary’s desk, watching her work with Gage.
Life had changed so much in the last few years.
Immune to my nostalgia, she said, “There are several ways to change your employees’ perception of you. However, most of these are tactics you’re already doing well. Fair pay, generous benefits, time off, a culture of accountability and integrity, volunteering...”
“But...” I said, eyeing the folders.
“You can become more relatable, more sympathetic,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows.Relatable?I’d done everything I couldnotto be relatable, rising above what society expected of a chubby blond secretary. I’d worked my way up, obtained a master’s degree, worked with the best mentors money could buy. I wanted to be an outlier, not another predictable statistic.
“How would you suggest I become more relatable?” I asked. “I don’t have time for a puppy.”
Tallie’s lips quirked in half a smile, and she tugged a folder away from the stack, dropping it on the floor. “What do you think most of our employees do when they go home?”
I shrugged. “Work out, hang out with family, go on dates, have a life?”
Tallie nodded. “What if you picked up a sport?”
“Hot yoga doesn’t count?”
She shook her head. “Too individual. Maybe softball? We have a company league.”
I laughed. Genuinely. “Next.”
She shuffled aside another folder. “You could be seen publicly with your parents. Having aging parents is something so many people can rela?—”
“Next,” I said.
She opened her mouth to argue, but I shook my head. “My family is off-limits. They are not pawns in this company’s game.”
Nodding solemnly, she picked up the last folder. “You could have a relationship.”