Oops, I've Fallen

“Uh…he’s doing good. Cranky, but good.”

“I can hear you!” my dad booms from his spot on the couch.

I groan and run a hand through my hair. “As you can hear, he’s doing well enough to give me constant shit about everything.”

Marcie giggles on the other line. “Sounds like he’s a handful.”

“You have no idea,” I respond and pick up the half-empty glass bottle of whiskey, pouring the amber liquid into two rocks glasses. If he’s going to have a drink, then so will I. Maybe it’ll dull the edges of Sal’s back talk a little. “Anyway, I take it you’re calling to give me an update on what underwriting said about our margins on the Franklin Motors account?”

“Um…yeah. I mean yes,” she answers, her voice a little hesitant.

“Did something happen in the meeting today?” I question, my chest clenching with anxiety. The Franklin Motors account is a huge account that’s had hundreds of hours of work put into it. It’s a colossal financial stake to cover the number of policies the company requires, but we have to manage that with risk in order to keep the cost from being prohibitive. Underwriting was supposed to have a final decision on our margins today.

“No, no,” she responds quickly. “It went well. Really well. Underwriting is happy with what we proposed and pushed it through before we left today. As long as Franklin’s CEO agrees without too much pushback, that contract should be ours.”

The tightness in my chest eases with her words. “Just the medical and life policies, or property casualty too?”

“Underwriting approved everything.”

“So, it’s all handled, then? And I take it Jeremy is still handling things on the Franklin Motors end?”

“Yep. Everything is good.”

“That’s fantastic news,” I say. “Great job, Marcie. I appreciate all of your hard work on this one.”

“Of course,” she responds. “Thanks for letting me be a part of it.”

“Any other updates?” I ask, trying to move this conversation along. I’m so fucking relieved the Franklin Motors proposal passed underwriting, but it’s been a long day, and it’s not even close to over yet. I still have thirty task assignments to get through and a quick call with Legal to fit in somewhere. Not to mention the guy currently staring bullets into my brain while he waits for his whiskey. He’s not normally this grumpy, though, I have to say. But for Sal Miller, independence is a pretty big deal.

“No. Well…I just wanted to say that everyone misses you,” she says, but then adds, “I miss you.”

Her words make me stop dead in my tracks, just on top of the threshold of the dining room entrance. “Marcie.” I don’t know what else to say. This isn’t the first time she’s tried to blur the lines between professional interaction and her personal feelings.

“And I was thinking…” she continues, pausing only briefly, “when you get back, maybe we could, you know, grab some dinner together. Outside of the office.”

Shit.

Marcie is an attractive woman; I won’t deny that. But she’s my employee, and dating a subordinate would be like shitting where I eat. Productivity would suffer, feelings would get hurt, and to be completely honest, it would make the constructively critical comments I’m going to have to give her at her year-end review pretty fucking awkward.

Your pussy is very accommodating and all, but listen, your team delegation at the office could use some work.

“Marcie, while I appreciate the offer, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say as bluntly as I can manage while remaining polite.

“Why not?”

“Because we work together.”

“Yeah, but there’s no company policy against employees dating,” she tells me, reciting the rules I already know. In fact, I’m the one who briefed her on HR policies when she was hired three years ago. “Donna and Mark in accounting are married.”

“And that’s great for Donna and Mark. But I don’t date coworkers.”

The line goes silent for a few seconds too long, and I shut my eyes in anticipation. The last thing I need is more stress at the office.

“I’m sorry, Marcie,” I add, trying to give her an olive branch to use as a crutch to climb out of this hole she’s digging. She’s a pretty decent employee, and I’d really like to avoid the hellish process of finding a replacement. “It’s not personal, trust me. I just don’t mix my personal life with business. And, honestly, neither should you. It almost always ends badly,” I find myself adding, trying to be encouraging. “You’re really smart, Marcie. Don’t cloud that.”

“Ryan?” she asks, her voice purring in a way that makes me hesitant to even respond. I’m hoping I’m mistaken and it’s embarrassment making it sound that way.

“Yeah?”

“I think I can convince you otherwise.”

Goddammit, Marcie.

“So, I’ll take a rain check on this conversation…for now. At least until you get back from Tampa.”