He thought about it. He did that. He actually thought before he answered, which was rarer than it should have been because most people spend their lives saying things and not being heard. If I can give someone the experience of being heard, it costs me nothing and it means a lot to them. She poured her own coffee.
Does it cost you nothing? That kind of attention takes energy. Everything worth doing takes energy. I choose where mine goes. She was quiet for a moment.
I used to be better at it. She said the listening. He looked at her when I started out when everything was new and I had something to prove and I needed people to underestimate me so I could exceed their expectations. She wrapped both hands around her mug. I used to pay very close attention to every single person in every room I walked into because that was the only advantage I had.
She paused. Somewhere I stopped because you didn't need it anymore. I thought I didn't. And now she looked at him. I think I was wrong.
He didn't say I told you so. He didn't say that's growth in the way people say things to manage other people's revelations to package them into something comfortable. He just looked at her with that steady attention and said,"What changed your mind?" "You did." She said it simply without calculation, without weighing what it would cost her. The way he talked without the performance was apparently contagious. Watching you in meetings, the way you actually hear people, I recognized it and realized I'd let it go.
Something shifted in his expression. Small and warm. You haven't let it go, he said. You just buried it under everything you had to build. Is there a difference?
Yes. Buried things can be found again. Lost things are just gone. She looked at him for a long moment. You're oddly hopeful for a man who's spent 25 years being overlooked, she said.
Or maybe being overlooked is what made me hopeful. When nobody's watching you, you get to decide who you actually are. He picked up his coffee. No audience, no pressure, just the choices you make when you think no one's looking. She thought about that for the rest of the day.
She thought about it that night. She wrote it in the margins of her private notebook. The NAS one, the other one, and then sat looking at what she'd written. When nobody's watching, you get to decide who you actually are. She underlined it.
Then she sat with the question it raised about herself. The trouble started, or more precisely, became impossible to ignore in the fourth week. It started with a conversation Victoria had with her friend and personal attorney Renee Collins over dinner at Renee's house on a Sunday evening. Renee was one of the only people in Victoria's life who held a position outside the professional circle old enough as a friendship to have survived the company's growth. Secure enough to say things to Victoria that most people couldn't afford to say.
They were most of the way through the meal when Renee said without particular preamble,"You look different." Different how? Less like you're managing the room. Victoria set down her fork. I always look like I'm managing the room. Exactly.
So, what's happening? Renee asked. Nothing. Renee picked up her wine glass. I've known you since we were both broke and sharing a two-bedroom in Buckhead.
Please do not tell me nothing. Victoria was quiet for a moment. She had not told anyone, not because she was ashamed she had examined that and found it wasn't the right the word. Oh, but because saying it out loud to another person made it real in a different way, and real things could be judged, questioned, warned against. But this was Renee.
There's a man, she said. Renee waited. He works for me. Senior operations. She paused.
He's 50, a widowerower, single father. He's been with the company for 25 years. Another pause. He's the most honest person I've had a conversation with in probably a decade. Renee considered this.
Tell me about the honest part. He says what he actually thinks. Without agenda, without positioning. He challenged a major decision in front of the entire executive team. A decision I approved and he was right.
And he told me he was right without any softening and without any cruelty. Just cleanly. She shook her head. I almost had him fired for it. Then I tore up his termination letter.
You tore up his in front of the co who issued it? Yes. Renee stared at her. Victoria, I know that's not professional boundary maintenance. I know that, too.
What are you doing? I'm asking myself the same question. Victoria looked at her plate. He asked me something at the gayla. Something I still don't entirely have the answer to.
She looked up. He asked me if I actually wanted what I said I wanted or if I was just used to people doing what I tell them. Renee was very quiet for a moment. What did you say? Nothing.
I couldn't answer. And now, now I think the answer might be yes. To the first part, Victoria straightened slightly. The honesty of saying it out loud was different from thinking it alone. It had more weight, more reality.
I think I actually want something, and I'm not used to that. Being honest about wanting something, being uncertain about getting it. I've spent 15 years in a world where I decide what I want and I build a strategy and I execute it and I get it. This is She searched for the word. This is different.
He doesn't respond to strategy. Renee smiled slowly. Oh, I like him already. Renee, I'm serious. You've been surrounded by people who respond to strategy for so long you forgot what it's like when someone doesn't.
She leaned forward. What are you actually afraid of? Victoria didn't answer immediately. She gave it real thought the way she'd been learning to do instead of reaching for the closest available answer, looking like I used my position, she said finally. People will say I promoted him or favored him because of personal interest.
They'll say he's only where he is because of me. That undermines everything he's built for 25 years. She set her hands flat on the table. He spent his entire career being underestimated by people who looked at him and decided they already knew what he was worth. I will not be another version of that.
The table was quiet. Renee looked at her for a long moment. Not with the look of a lawyer examining an argument. With the look of someone who had known you long enough to see what was underneath the argument. You're already protecting him.