Page 33 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter thirty-three

T he day flies.

My inbox? Tamed.

My team's performance numbers? Tight.

I even get a compliment from the Compliance Lead during a call.

Bonus, we are up for Stevie Awards, for the first time in company history! Customer Service Department of the Year and Customer Service Success in Business Service Industries.

I need to celebrate this with my team.

Subject: We're Finalists Because of You Team, We've officially been nominated for two Stevie Awards: Customer Service Department of the Year and Customer Service Success in Business Service Industries.

This is the first time in our company's history.

And it didn't happen because of luck .

It happened because of moments like these:

Benjamin, who walked Bessie, an octogenarian from Nebraska through our packaging so smoothly that she not only figured it out, she left a five-star review and referred seven new customers.

Shawna, who guided a customer over sat phone while they were off-grid, helping them use a firestarter in the middle of nowhere.

Then she shipped them an MRE for backup, just in case.

Every one of you has a similar story.

I'm including a quick sheet with a highlight for each of you, not for the spotlight, but because you earned it.

This is the first and definitely not the last time if my team has anything to say about it and they do! So today, we're celebrating.

Stop by the Customer Service floor.

Grab a po' boy or a muffuletta and have a slice of King Cake while you're at it.

Bring your appetite.

Bring your congratulations.

Bring your pride.

We built this.

And it's only the beginning.

Reagan

Just before lunch, an email hits my inbox from Grayson.

It's short, sharp, and unexpected:

Subject: Recognition Where It's Due Well done.

Two nominations in less than twelve months is no accident.

You turned a sinking ship into a standard.

Tell your team I said congratulations.

G .

At lunch, while I watch my team come alive under the praise of the management team and co workers that come by mainly for food but also to hand out great jobs I send a text to Brooks:

Tonight still good?

Wouldn't miss it.

I do a happy little chair wiggle.

Part of me is torn. It feels like Grayson should be here too. They both see me, but in such different ways. One sees my brain, my drive, my need to be more. The other sees the things I didn’t even realize I was missing, to be cared for, to be adored.