The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

space where the door opened, but that was it. She almost laughed until she caught sight of Tim, who was misting up.

“I’ll go get a garbage can.”

“Can’t we call maintenance?” Tim sniffled at his sneakers.

Dylan paused. She wanted to be delicate, but he’d earned this one.

“No, Tim. We need to clean this up ourselves. The cups and the reason for them.” Tim’s shoulders sagged as he rubbed his eyes, while Dylan retrieved a small wastebasket. “Before we start, take a picture. This is a practical joke, and we need to make sure you laugh at it.”

Tim stopped rubbing his eyes long enough to look at her like she might be possessed. “This is not funny.”

“Well, it’s going to be when we get you on track. Think of this as future laughing.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Take the picture, damn it.” Dylan was pretty sure she had never cursed at anyone she worked with, let alone a client. She took it one step further and shook the trash can at him. “Now, get to gettin’.”

To her surprise, Tim pulled out his phone and took the photo. Glancing at the screen, he changed angles a few times and snapped more pictures.

“Okay, it’s not a photoshoot.”

“If I’m gonna laugh, I want it to look good,” Tim said, taking the can from her and walking as far into his office as he could before crouching down and looking up at her expectantly.

Dylan looked down at her dress and realized that the pencil cut was going to be problematic as long as she was wearing her heels.

Slowly, she stepped out of one shoe and then the other and stooped to hide them as close to his office wall as possible in the hope that no one else would see her crawling around on the floor without shoes. Jared could never say she didn’t go the extra mile for the client. Sitting next to Tim, she picked up a sticky cup of flat pop and dumped it into the trash can before stacking it into another empty cup.

“This sort of feels like a waste,” Tim sighed. “Do you think we could put the cups in the staff kitchen for water or something?”

Dylan stopped dumping flat pop out to look at Tim, waiting for the punch line.

“What?”

“Tim, that is the kind of thing that gets your office filled with cups in the first place. Ask yourself, Would I want to use a stale, soaked-through, diet-soda-covered cup? If the answer is no, then don’t do it to your staff. Even if it saves money.”

“It was just a question.”

“No, it wasn’t. Be honest: if I hadn’t called you out, would you have done it?”

“No.” Dylan arched an eyebrow, and Tim amended, “Probably not.” When the second eyebrow went up, he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Gross.” Dylan wrinkled her nose, picking up the next cup and tossing the liquid before fixing Tim with a stare. “Explain this logic to me. I’m trying to understand how I could give you a document outlining that people here feel underappreciated—taken advantage of, even—and you’re wondering how to reuse paper cups.”

“Does it matter?” Tim shrugged and adjusted his stance slightly to take advantage of the additional few inches he’d cleared. Noticing she had halted dumping cups again, he stopped trying to make himself comfortable. “I built this place. Money was tight for so long. They don’t know that.”

“Don’t they?” Dylan let the skepticism hang in the air before selecting another cup to toss. “People without loyalty don’t feel betrayal, Tim. They feel like they helped you build this place. And you are over here acting like you did this alone. It’s rude and self-centered.” Tim’s posture hadn’t been reading proud, but in that moment, whatever was left holding up his hoodie deflated entirely.

“Steve also said that,” he conceded. “Do you think he did this?”

“If he did, you earned it.” Dylan laughed at the idea of the haggard COO helping everyone exact an exceptionally petty revenge. Catching the lines deepening on Tim’s forehead, she added, “For the record, no. I don’t think Steve did this.”

“Steve’s always been a cheerleader.” Tim moved farther into the room, allowing Dylan to tuck into a new corner of the large office. She hated to admit it, but the prank had given her a chance to have the meeting with Tim that she had hoped for when she’d started.

“Let’s move away from the who and move to the repair,” she said. “We know people are frustrated because they feel their contributions are being diminished. The truth is, when you were a smaller company, a coffee cart was a perk, but now free pop—or honestly, moving the cart back into a central place—isn’t gonna cut it.” She stopped to take a breath and stack more gooey cups, then added, “You have to take concrete steps to improve the culture. I’ve outlined some of them in the document you have. Do you want to reread it, or shall I go over them?”

“No. I’ll give it a critical read.”

“That’s what I expected. Look at you, already making strides,

Mr. Founder and CEO.”

The joke seemed to have a positive impact on Tim. “Anything else?”

“Yes. First, I’m going to give Deep and Brandt the okay to form the staff-appreciation group.” Tim flinched and opened his mouth, but Dylan was faster. “It won’t conflict with your plans. They’ll work on small strategic efforts, like potlucks and happy hours. You’ll still oversee big moves.”

“Fine.” Tim’s shoulders sank again as he asked, “Next?”

“Second, promise me you won’t go buying office beverages again.”

“I’ll leave that to facilities from now on. Scout’s honor. What else?”

“Third, we are going to draft a good-natured social media post about how one stupid stunt deserves another,” Dylan said, duckwalking a few inches to reach more cups. “It’ll help people’s perception of you, both inside and outside of this place.”

“About that. There was nothing in the document about public perception. What are we doing there?”

“Right now? Nothing. We need to clean up the house before we move to the front