A long weekend to forget and a day to remember

My phone rang once more, and for a moment, I thought he would have changed his opinion, but when I looked at the screen, it was not him, it was Elena, the department's assistant. I picked up, and before I had time to say anything, she started to yell at me:

"Where are you? They are waiting, you are late! I sent you like ten messages!"

I looked at my phone. There were no messages. Then I remembered: my work phone. Elena kept yelling things I couldn't understand, maybe because she was speaking too fast or perhaps because I had not slept for thirty hours. My work phone was in my backpack, with no battery after a long weekend.

"Elena, calm down. My phone is dead. Let me charge it," I told her.

"You have no time to charge anything! You have to come here!"

I connected the charger to the little black brick and pressed all the buttons of the phone frenetically, but before I could see any messages, she said:

"They moved the interview. It was supposed to start ten minutes ago!"

I froze.

"Please hurry up," she said, "I will entertain them as much as possible."

"On my way!" I said, and I hung up. I picked up my backpack and keys, and just before leaving my apartment, I looked at myself in the mirror.

My face was bloated from all the crying; my eyes were red as two massive potatoes, and my hair... "Fuck it," I told myself. I opened the door and closed it carefully after me. That's how this story was about to go, no matter if I wanted it or not, so when I entered my car, I took a big breath and convinced myself about something: the universe could not be so cruel; something good would happen that day. I started the car on my way to work, and while driving, I thought about how I had reached this point in my life.

Once upon a time, I was an International Product Manager. I did not sell, care for the marketing, or innovate any of the Company's products. I "just" managed. According to my development colleagues, my department was full of glorified secretaries whose only job was sending emails with the information provided by others, meeting clients at fancy restaurants, and calling everyone and anyone continuously. Looking from the outside, that was a fair description, but to be fair, the job was even better than that.

I became an IPM after working for a few years in the same Company's development department. I used to be one of those invisible people who tested and made devices engineered by others a reality. I grew into an experienced team member and reached the point where it annoyed me to see the commercial teams lacking the knowledge and experience to sell what we were creating. 

"We deserve better," said the product manager who worked on the same project as I did once in the laboratory.

"We would benefit from someone with technical experience, someone like you." 

I felt over the moon. Someone had looked at me and my job and thought I could do the job that would put me in front of customers, developers, and marketing people worldwide.

"There is an opening, you know?" He continued, "I think you should apply."

I think that was the first time anyone told me I could do something else at work, and I grabbed the chance as if my life depended on it. When he told me there was a vacancy, I focused all my attention on getting that job. I tailored my CV, sent my application to the responsible manager, prepared myself for all the imaginable questions, and waited... and waited... and then I waited a bit more until I got tired of waiting and called the recruiter in charge of the position. I was expecting he would tell me there had been delays or that he was about to schedule my interview, but instead, he told me that "I was too technical" for such a position. He also thanked me because since I had called, he didn't have to write an email telling me exactly that... "too technical." That day, instead of feeling defeated and keeping with my life, I decided to enroll in university to get a management degree. Elena, one of my friends at work, thought I was brave; my boyfriend at home did not understand why I wanted to return to university since I had gone through it already, got my engineering degree, and scored a full-time work for a high tech company, working in the development department. I was 23 then. "Why would you want to do something else if your job is already good? He said, "You will have less time for other things.. for us," he continued. But I did not care. I was determined to get what I wanted, and no one would stop me... despite "the Universe" not being kind to me.

The classes happened between nine in the morning and four in the afternoon when I was supposed to be at work. My plan for success was to attend as many classes as possible and recover the work hours before and after my regular schedule. My manager was cool with it as long as I delivered my test results and reports on time.

I had no car that year, so I moved around on foot or with public transportation. I did go to work by bus, but whenever I had to go earlier than seven in the morning or leave after eight in the evening, I had to ask a colleague to give me a lift. So, a "normal" day for me would be starting to work at six, leaving the office at eight, having a couple of hours of class, returning to work, and leaving the department around eight or nine in the evening. After that, I worked on the school assignments at home, met friends, and tried to sleep. Life was not easy, but I had a very clear goal in mind, so I did not mind.

After one year, I could have been the face of any energy drink, not because I used them but because I was all over the place all the time. Multitasking should have been my middle name. I was crushing it at school and work, and then, something happened: a change of management in the Product Management department. It took less than two weeks for the new boss to decide he needed more "technical experience" in his department, and out of the blue, I got a call the day before a long weekend when I was supposed to visit my mother, on my birthday, with my boyfriend. They were inviting me for an interview the following week, in case I was interested. 

I tried to keep it cool and accepted the proposal. The man on the other end of the line told me he would check the potential dates and times and would call me back. I left the office, happy as ever and ready for a long car trip, where I should be able to recover hours of conversation with my boyfriend and a weekend of quality time with friends and family. Unfortunately, my plans were better than the real deal: the weather throughout the whole trip was awful, my boyfriend was in a mood because I had not dedicated him time enough in the previous weeks, my mother was not happy with my decision to bring him along, and my friends were attacked by a severe flue case that killed our dinner and drinks plan. I spent the weekend with angry people, and the return was not better. After six hours of driving without stops, when we arrived around midnight at my boyfriend's place- two hours away from mine- he told me that the weekend had opened his eyes and he did not want to be with me anymore. I "slept" in his place with my eyes wide open until 4 a.m., when I recovered enough energy to get the hell out of there. I went to my place on time to have a shower and go to work, but as soon as the first person who entered the office told me "Good morning," I broke into tears, and my boss sent me home, afraid of the chaos my state of mind could cause across the team. So I returned to my apartment, crying non-stop and feeling my broken heart was about to jump out of my chest, and tried to sleep (again, with no success) on my sofa. A couple of hours later, I received Elena's call. That's why I returned to the factory instead of eating ice cream and cookies in my living room.

I parked and ran to Elena's desk because, on my way out of the house, I had forgotten my phone and had no idea where I was supposed to go. As soon as she saw me, she gasped:

"Gosh'" she said, "what happened to you?"

"Long story," I replied, "where do I have to go?"

"Human resources, main meeting room."

I crossed the facilities running as if a lion was chasing me, and when I arrived at the meeting room, I found two men in their fifties, wearing suits and drinking coffee, who seemed to be having a pleasant conversation. When they saw me popping up on the door, I'm sure I was not what they were waiting for, but that was the best I could offer, so I immediately composed myself the best I could and said:

"Gentlemen, my apologies. There was a misunderstanding, and I lost track of my agenda, but I am ready for the interview if that's ok with you."

They looked at each other, their watches, and again at me. It was not clear to me if they had any other appointments, but I believe I made them curious with such an entrance, and I had my interview.

They had read my curriculum, and I had good references from my colleagues. Despite having yet to finish my management degree, I had good notions of the business and a good eye for detail, something the new manager was looking for. It was evident that I was a good fit, so I asked the terrible question: "Which is the salary you offer?"

The men looked at me as if I had insulted them, their wives, and all their relatives.

"Salary?" replied the Human Resources manager. "That's not under discussion. You need to show first that you can do the job."

"But, you said I would have more visibility and responsibility, so I guess I should have at least a raise to buy a couple of suits, right?" I asked, always with a nice smile.

"You know," said the same man, "There are banks that can loan you money if you need to buy clothes."

My smile vanished. I looked at him, his suit and his expensive leather shoes. I looked at my potential future manager, who wasn't smiling and seemed uncomfortable with that conversation. We had discussed everything by then.

"Any other question?" asked the man.

"No," I said, "I am not sure I am interested in the position if the conditions are the ones you mentioned. Thanks for the opportunity, though."

I stood up, shook their hands, left the room, and walked calmly to Elena's desk in the other building.

"So?" she yelled as soon as I crossed the door.

"I don't think I will get it," I told her. "I'll go home now unless you need me for anything else around here."

She nodded. She knew staying would be no good for me or anyone in a 5km radius. I needed sleep and sugar in significant quantities, independently of the order. 

I returned to my apartment, to my sofa and my fridge. I managed to sleep, and the next day, with a better appearance and energy, I started my shift at eight in the morning as if nothing had happened. Shortly after, Elena called me to her desk, and when I entered her area, she pointed at our manager's office with the biggest smile. Our boss was speaking with the head of Product Management.

I sat by her side and stuck my nose between the pages of the tools catalog she handed me until the office door opened. Our boss left immediately for another meeting, and the other manager stopped by my side. I stood up and, and he told me:

"Would a fifteen percent raise convince you to join my team?"