Page 8 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business
Chapter Five
Jordan
Jordan Armstrong turned to glance briefly through her own reflection and out the window of the forty-second floor of the Manhattan high-rise that she used to call her office.
A very different woman was looking down now at the nine-to-five bustle on the streets below, and yet it was still invigorating.
She missed the energy of the city, but the constant grind she did not miss at all.
At least now that she’d developed as much of an affinity for her feet touching sand as she used to feel for a pair of killer stilettos.
Two nights ago, she’d been in her spacious Malibu home, breathing the salt air of the ocean.
Yesterday afternoon, she’d touched down in New York expecting the mildness of spring and the turn of seasons, but outside it still looked very much like winter.
Thirty-six hours in Manhattan was passing quickly, especially with a schedule crammed with meetings.
The frenetic motion of the city below reminded her of her past life as the executive vice chairman of MSNBC, a position she’d left almost three years ago.
The constant stimulation, the on-the-go energy, for the first part of her career at least, had been the fuel that she thrived on.
Now this view wasn’t as satisfying, even perched on the top of the world.
She loved the life she’d created in Malibu, doing things at her leisure—self-care for sure, plus her unbeatable view of the Pacific.
This trip was just a quick detour, a necessary one to set the wheels of her next chapter in motion.
“Ms. Armstrong, we have the podium and microphone all set for you.” A soft voice behind her brought her back into the room. Jordan turned and smiled, instinctually smoothing her already immaculate beach waves into proper place along the shoulders of her power suit.
“Great, let’s go.” She stood and followed her wrangler down the hall as the young woman continued to contort herself trying to walk and talk at Jordan’s pace.
“Thank you again for agreeing to speak to the ladies,” she said effusively.
“We couldn’t waste an opportunity knowing you’d be in town.
I mean, when we sent the email to the junior staff, that you’d be coming, we had a flood of responses.
I hope you don’t mind, but there were a few ladies who agreed to stand in the back just to be in the room. ”
“It’s not a problem,” Jordan said. She wanted as many junior staff to attend as possible.
She meant to bring her best here, her full attention.
As hard as she had to work for where she’d gotten, it was important to give back, especially in rooms like the one she was entering, filled with the eager faces of young women of color just starting their careers, full of energy and ambition like she was.
Jordan pushed back a single tendril of hair from her immaculately set face, flawlessly finished, with red lips for both power and presence.
Now reset into a perfect middle part, the cascading waves of ebony satin showcased her face like open draperies.
It was important to look good and feel better.
Her power suit fit perfectly, her blazer opened just so.
Yes, she thought, these girls should see and hear fromme.
The door opened to a completely full meeting room, and Jordan let herself be guided to a podium that seemed far too formal to be just “stopping by for a quick lunch with the interns and juniors” between the pitch meetings she’d set for her new show concept.
When she stepped to the podium and looked out at the dozens of sets of blinking eyes staring back at her from mostly brown faces, she felt overwhelmed with everything she wanted to say.
How she wished to tell these women, so young still, that success goes hand in hand with regret.
Already they were so willing to give so much of themselves to a corporation and an industry that would never so much as thank them and would happily let them give their all until there was nothing left.
She wanted to tell them to take care of themselves.
To tell them to say no instead of just thinking it.
To set boundaries and take weekends, to make self-care actually mean something, and to never lose sight of their friendships and relationships that matter (especially that part).
But that last bit would be slightly ironic, because Jordan was in town for work, and not a single one of her friends knew.
Not even Shelby, not Harper, not even her godchildren.
Hands in front of her, placing one on each side of the lectern, Jordan cleared her throat before leaning forward into the microphone.
All the talking in the room had stopped.
It wasn’t even clear she needed a mic. The way these girls leaned forward, Jordan could have whispered and they still would have picked up her every word.
This is how her afternoon meetings needed to go.
All eyes on her, listening and nodding around the conference room table to her pitch of her own show.
Especially Evelyn, who she’d met in a room just like this, ten years ago.
Evelyn, who she’d helped climb the ladder into the positions that made up the executive levels of her own career.
It was Evelyn now who had the power to listen, to decide, to green-light.
And it was Jordan who finally had something of her own.
“Ladies,” she began. “I started my career in positions like those that many of you hold now. I answered calls, set schedules, hoped that maybe just a few of my suggestions would make it to air. And then I earned my boss’s job, and then my boss’s boss, and finally when I was the boss, when I’d made it to the top of everything I dreamed of, you know what was waiting for me there?
” Jordan paused, catching the eye of some of the girls so eager, they sat suspended at the edge of their seats with bated breath, waiting.
She wanted to make sure they heard her, especially the young Black women present.
“What was waiting for me was even more…more hours, more pressure, more expectations. And the life I’d set up to meet those demands wasn’t serving me.
So, I took a new position. I become the CEO of my own life, a role I should have held from the start.
One that you should hold for your own life.
Maybe this is your dream job, but it should be part of a much bigger picture.
Ask yourself, how is it serving you? In this room today, you are the greatest natural resource that this country will ever produce.
And you need to act like it. To treat yourself like it.
That’s how I see you and that’s how you need to see yourselves. ”
Jordan had more to say, but as she took a breath to continue, the room broke out into applause.
And she looked out again at those brown faces, young women in whom she could see herself.
She hoped they heard her and that some of them would wake up and take the advice she wished she’d been given.
But anyway, that’s what her next meeting was for.
She’d make them hear her, just next time with a much bigger microphone.
“Success doesn’t mean just being successful.
” An hour after the lunch with interns, Jordan sat in the conference room four floors higher, presenting the well-considered opening lines of her show pitch.
She was seated across from Evelyn Castro, EVP of programming and three less senior executives.
Beyond her role at the network, Evelyn had been Jordan’s friend for years.
Just a few years behind her, Evelyn had followed Jordan up the corporate ladder, and Jordan had certainly reached back to help her climb, making it nice to see her in the decision-maker’s seat.
This was supposed to be a low-pressure, familiar setting, but as confident as she felt, she loved this idea enough to still harbor a bit of nerves.
She wanted the best for it, and for herself.
Jordan had been on the buyer side for many years, wielding power, cultivating relationships, smiling, power hugging, and giving firm handshakes.
Her hard work had taken her to the mountaintop, a huge accomplishment that she was proud of herself for.
But still, she didn’t miss this room one bit.
In front of yet another audience, her sixth of the day.
Jordan let the words of her show pitch float through the room and settle upon the executives seated around the conference room table.
She was ready to place her concept—wellness for Black women.
She wanted to get specific, relevant, and meaningful because by now, she realized that if you’re talking to everyone, you’re speaking to no one.
She would center Black women with intention and address all aspects of wellness that were too often overlooked while they (and she) “got the job done.” Her own exit from MSNBC was well-chronicled.
And she’d set the record straight for those young women earlier today, just as she had for those who’d known her professionally in the years prior—Jordan Armstrong was no quitter.
Why the exit? That type of grind wasn’t her anymore.
She’d needed a change, made one, and it had worked for her.