Part 2 (1/2)
”I'm Hayden Bennett,” he said. ”I was given your name as some kind of virtual a.s.sistant.”
”Not 'some kind.' Just a plain old virtual a.s.sistant.”
”Very well, plain old virtual a.s.sistant. I looked up what exactly you do, but frankly, I've come to the conclusion that internet search engines were created solely to cause me pain and frustration. So, on occasion, I prefer real people. You are a real person, aren't you?”
For some reason, I looked down at myself as if I needed verification. ”More or less.” Although some might disagree. ”The main office didn't warn you what you were getting into?”
”They did, but I wasn't listening.”
”Okay.” Honest. Blunt. Obviously confident, and definitely used to getting what he wants. I'd have to thank Emilia later.
”In my experience, the first person you speak with isn't the one with the answers. They are mediators. When I work with someone, I prefer to hear details and definitions directly from them. In addition to providing the information, I also get a feel for what they consider their strengths and weaknesses, which a mediator probably isn't aware of. Does that answer the question you were thinking but didn't verbalize?”
”Absolutely: You don't trust the first person you speak to, and you're a bad listener. Got it.”
He chuckled. Hallelujah! The first sign of humanity. ”Exactly.”
I gave him the condensed version-he could a.s.sign whatever work he needed to be done, anything he would ask a regular, in-office a.s.sistant or secretary to do. ”Obviously, I can't do any tasks that involve non-virtual behavior, like picking up coffee or dry cleaning. I can order gifts online and have them delivered to whomever you want, but I'd prefer it if you didn't ask me to order anything too...intimate, if you know what I mean.”
”Intimate?” he asked.
”Intimate. Like...um...” The first thing that came to my mind-and rarely left it unfortunately-was an old client who'd asked me to pick out something from a particular website for his girlfriend. Until that moment, I'd thought the only thing made from PVC was pipe. Silly me.
I'm no prude. In fact, one of my current clients owns the second largest online adult toy store in the country. But buying fetish gear for someone's girlfriend was a line I didn't want to cross...or get within thirty feet of.
”Anything...um...too...” How to define something s.e.xual without mentioning s.e.x? ”Too...um...” I should Google it. ”I could send you a link to a definition.” Might take me a while to find one without dirty pictures, though.
”Thank you, but contrary to what some might think, I am familiar with the word and its various meanings.” I could almost hear the laughter in his tone. ”Nothing too intimate. Understood. Please continue.”
I told him the things I excelled at, namely anything to do with computers and social media, but I left out the hacking for obvious reasons.
”So basically, you can use me for whatever.” Oh man, did that sound wrong. ”I mean, whatever you might use a normal, non-intimate a.s.sistant-” c.r.a.p! That didn't sound much better-as if he had countless other intimate a.s.sistants, too. Did I forget to turn my brain on today? Seriously, it was like I had no control over what came out of my mouth. ”I mean-”
”I understood what you meant.”
After I was done stuttering, I said, ”So...did that make your head hurt?” As much as it did mine?
”Mildly.”
”b.u.mmer. Unfortunately, I can't get you any aspirin because that goes against the whole 'virtual' thing.”
”So, in effect, you are a genie in a bottle that I can tell to do whatever I need done, whenever I need it done?”
”Right. But I dress more conservatively than your typical genie.” And there was no rubbing involved. ”You get more than three wishes, though. As long as your checks clear.”
”Then more like Siri, the virtual helper on my phone.”
”Good comparison, yeah. Although, I don't freeze or tell you to try again later as often. Also, if you ask me a stupid question, I don't have a preset polite response.”
”It's always been my belief that there are no stupid questions, just stupid people who ask them.”
Oh s.h.i.+t, I was giggling. I should hang up now. Go back to bed. Forever.
”I don't think Siri has that nice of a laugh either,” he said quietly. ”It's all a little bizarre, isn't it?”
”What is?” Me? This conversation? My sudden and inexplicable girliness?
”Working closely with someone without ever looking into their eyes. Doing everything over the phone.”
”Actually, we'll do very little over the phone.” Thankfully, because I speak much better in writing. ”It usually works better to use email or other chat features like- Does Gmail chat give you a headache?”
”Perhaps it would if I knew what Gmail chat was.”
”Oh boy. We're starting at the beginning, aren't we?” I wouldn't have guessed it from his voice, but anyone this tech-deficient had to be in his late-fifties or early-sixties. Slightly balding and hoping his expensive suit covered his paunch. Not that I'd ever be able to verify it, but I gave myself a 90% chance of being right.
”I've just become far less intimidating, haven't I?”
”Of course not, Mr. Bennett. You're highly intimidating. Or you would be if you hadn't asked that question-truly intimidating people don't care if they're intimidating.”
”Actually, truly intimidating people enjoy being intimidating, so they care quite a bit. Believe me, I know.”
I blew out a breath. Hayden Bennett wasn't going to be an easy one.
As soon as we hung up, I started investigating the Conure Group. I should've done it before we spoke, to be prepared for his call, but very few of my clients actually call me, and none of them had ever called on a weekend. I would've mentioned my office hours to him if I actually had office hours...or a life outside my virtual one.
I Googled the company name, deliberately avoiding images and anything personal about Hayden himself. That was a no-no for me-looking up the actual person I was working for. I didn't need to know what he posted on social media, did in his free time, or what he looked like. In fact, that just complicated things. This was business.
”Okay.” Typical stuff-if you consider a gigantic s.h.i.+pping company typical-no mentions of evil plans to take over the world, no big scandals, at least not on the first page. The website said it was founded in a tiny North Beach office in 1984 by two friends who'd met at Stanford. Good for them. But I didn't care. Now publicly owned, although Bart Chalmers and ”HP Bennett” as the site referred to him, still ran the day-to-day. I scrolled down past the side-by-side pictures of the two men in their forties, looking very stoic and boring. For a brief moment, I wondered which was Hayden. But I kept scrolling, kept skimming the words, looking for anything that might help me do my job better.
Each division had a different tab-admin, the board of directors, contact form you fill out and hope you get an answer within six to eight weeks. Still bored. Also, moderately impressed that such a large company had hired such a lame web developer. Probably someone's nephew. These kinds of companies were built on nepotism. A link to the Bennett Foundation and the Conure Group's charitable contributions. Nice. Much better website, too.
I went back to the Conure Group site, to the 'about' link. Evidently, the company logo-an ugly bird with wings that morphed into the San Francisco skyline-had been designed by HP himself, in homage to his love of San Francisco's mysterious wild flock of parrots.
”Wow, Hayden, didn't peg you as a bird lover.” Good thing he'd decided to go into big business because he had absolutely zero talent with design. Over the last thirty years, the friends had built that small office into an enormously successful international s.h.i.+pping company. Great. Lots of acquisitions and an impressive line-up of clients. According to their announcement page, they'd just signed a contract with the largest steel manufacturer in the country.
And this is why he earned the big bucks. Nothing was stated outright because smart businesses kept this stuff quiet, but a lot of their newer clientele worked in conjunction with the state government. That hinted they had other bigger, meaner clients that they didn't mention.
I stopped clicking before my curiosity got the better of me. I'd focus on the work that Hayden gave me and ignore any and all conclusions I made beyond that. The last thing I needed to know was that Hayden Bennett was anything more than what he let me know.
He could keep his secrets, and I'd keep mine. After all, our relations.h.i.+p would be a temporary, purely professional one.
4.