Welcome to the Circus | Chapter 2: The Siren of Sales
A light tap on my shoulder startled me from my thoughts. I turned to find a woman standing beside my desk, a vision of blonde hair and impeccable style. She was strikingly beautiful, with high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief. Her figure was accentuated by a tailored pencil skirt and a fitted blouse, the ensemble completed by a pair of towering stiletto heels that elongated her already long legs.
“Dennis Simon, I presume?” Her voice was smooth and confident.
I stood up, extending my hand with a smile. “That’s me. And you must be Sarah Thompson?”
“Guilty as charged,” she replied, her lips curling into a playful smirk as she shook my hand. “Welcome to MA&Co. I’m here to show you the ropes.”
Her grip was firm, her gaze unwavering. I could already sense that she was a no-nonsense person, someone who didn’t mince words or suffer fools gladly.
Just then, her phone chirped a cheerful tune. She glanced at the screen, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, stepping away to answer the call.
I watched as she paced back and forth, her voice rising with each passing sentence. “Listen, if you guys can’t make up your mind, don’t waste my time!” she snapped, her words ringing out through the otherwise hushed office. “Either you want the deal, or you don’t. I don’t have all day to play games.”
A hush fell over the office, everyone within earshot freezing in place. I could feel their eyes on me, curious to see how I would react to this unexpected outburst.
Sarah ended the call with a curt “Goodbye,” then turned back to me, her composure seemingly unfazed. “Now, where were we?” she asked, her smile returning as if nothing had happened.
“Right,” I said calmly, meeting her gaze with a steady smile. “You were about to show me the ropes.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, her eyebrows arching momentarily. It was clear she had expected a different reaction — perhaps a stammer, a nervous laugh, or even a wide-eyed look of shock. But my composure seemed to throw her off balance, just for a second.
She recovered quickly, her smile returning with a hint of intrigue. “Alright then, Mr. Simon,” she said, her voice a touch softer than before. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”
As we weaved through the labyrinth of cubicles and workstations, Sarah leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “Let me give you a bit of friendly advice, Dennis,” she said, a wry smile playing on her lips. “You’ve made a colossal mistake joining this circus.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her bluntness. “A mistake? Why do you say that?”
She sighed, a hint of weariness in her voice. “Because these people,” she gestured vaguely at the sea of faces around us, “they’ll drive you insane. They have a knack for making mountains out of molehills, for obsessing over the most trivial details while the company burns around them.”
Her voice grew louder, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s like everyone thinks they’re the star of their own reality show, you know? And when the ratings start to dip, they panic. They start fretting about the menu for the Christmas party, for God’s sake, instead of focusing on how to actually fix the bloody problem.”
I listened patiently, taking in her words with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Her candour was refreshing, a stark contrast to the polite formalities I’d encountered so far. I had a feeling Sarah Thompson was going to be an interesting character to work with.
Sarah guided me towards a row of cubicles, a symphony of flashing lights and the muffled thump of electronic beats leaking from headphones. “Behold,” she announced with a dramatic flourish, “the heart of our technological prowess — the IT department.”
I peered into the dimly lit space, where a group of men hunched over their computers, their faces illuminated by the glow of their screens. They tapped furiously at keyboards, oblivious to the world around them.
“Now, here’s the irony, Dennis,” Sarah continued, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “For a company that prides itself on communication, this department seems to have forgotten how to actually communicate.”
She paused, letting the absurdity of the situation sink in. “Everything here operates on the language of tickets. Computer doesn’t work? Ticket. Software glitch? Ticket. The coffee machine is broken? Ticket. Hell, if someone were dying on the floor, I’m pretty sure they’d raise a ticket for that too.”
Her words painted a vivid picture of a department mired in bureaucracy, where human interaction was replaced by impersonal requests and automated responses.
Sarah led me into the heart of the IT department, where a man in his fifties sat hunched over a keyboard, his bald head reflecting the harsh fluorescent light. He wore thick-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes, giving him an owlish appearance. A coffee mug emblazoned with a quote sat beside his monitor: “You Know What They Call A Hero Who Doesn’t Listen To Anyone, A Villain.”
“Kevin Peters,” Sarah announced, “meet Dennis Simon, our new analyst.”
Kevin looked up, his eyes blinking owlishly behind his glasses. “Welcome aboard, Dennis,” he said, his voice a monotone drone.
My eyes lingered on the quote on his mug. “Number Five — Umbrella Academy,” I quipped, a smile tugging at my lips.
Kevin’s eyes gleamed with unexpected recognition. “Ah, a fellow fan,” he said, a flicker of warmth in his voice. “Not many people catch that reference.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her face. “Geeks,” she muttered under her breath.
“Kevin here is your go-to guy for all things tech-related,” she explained, turning back to me. “Got a computer issue? Kevin’s your man. Need software installed? Kevin’s your man. Want to discuss the philosophical implications of time travel paradoxes? Well, Kevin’s probably your man for that too.”
As Sarah spoke, I noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The other IT guys, who had been diligently typing away, now seemed to be stealing glances in Sarah’s direction. A few even straightened their ties or ran their fingers through their hair in a vain attempt to look presentable.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed Sarah Thompson’s allure extended even to the depths of the IT department.
Next stop, Finance,” Sarah announced, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Prepare to have your patience tested.”
We entered a space that exuded an air of quiet intensity. Rows of desks were meticulously organised, calculators clicking rhythmically, and stacks of paper towering precariously. A sense of urgency hung in the air, despite the seemingly calm facade.
“This team,” Sarah confided in a hushed tone, “has perfected the art of frustration. They’re masters of red tape, gatekeepers of the company coffers.”
She paused dramatically, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “For some inexplicable reason, their end-of-month reporting takes an entire month. It’s a paradox that defies logic and reason.”
I burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent space. A few heads turned in our direction, but Sarah seemed unfazed.
“Don’t even try to apply logic here, Dennis,” she warned, a twinkle in her eye. “It might melt your brain.”
She led me to a desk where a woman with sleek black hair and sharp features was hunched over a spreadsheet, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Amy Chan,” Sarah announced, “meet Dennis Simon, our new analyst.”
Amy looked up, startled, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and anxiety. “Hello,” she said softly, her voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.
“Amy’s your go-to person for all things financial,” Sarah explained. “She holds the keys to the kingdom, so to speak. Every expense, every invoice, every penny spent — it all goes through her.”
Amy handed me a thick booklet, its cover emblazoned with the words “Financial Processes and Procedures.”
As we walked away, Sarah leaned in, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “Read that booklet, Dennis,” she challenged. “And if you can make sense of it, you’re a better man than I am.”
Sarah’s stride quickened as we approached a cluster of offices adorned with framed law degrees and legal jargon. A hushed atmosphere permeated the space, broken only by the soft clicking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper.
“Behold, the legal team,” Sarah announced, her voice tinged with a hint of awe. “These folks possess a unique set of skills. They can craft an entire paragraph that says absolutely nothing.”
She leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “They also have this charming habit of expecting clients to adhere to tender deadlines based on their own leisurely timelines. It’s a wonder we haven’t been sued into oblivion.”
We entered a well-appointed office where a woman with striking blue eyes and a cascade of blonde hair sat behind a mahogany desk. She looked up as we entered, her expression a mix of curiosity and warmth.
“Megan Jones,” Sarah introduced, “meet Dennis Simon, our new analyst. He’ll be working closely with you on all bid and tender submissions.”
Megan rose from her chair, extending a hand with a genuine smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Dennis. Welcome to MA&Co.”
Her handshake was firm, her gaze direct and friendly. She radiated a warmth that was noticeably absent in the other departments we’d visited.
As Sarah and Megan chatted briefly, I noticed an easy camaraderie between them, a comfortable exchange of jokes and knowing glances. It was clear they shared a friendship that extended beyond the confines of the office.
As we left Megan’s office, Sarah nudged me playfully. “Well?” she asked, a sly grin on her face. “What do you think of our resident legal eagle? Beautiful, isn’t she?”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, she is,” I replied honestly. “But then again, it seems all the women in this building are beautiful.”
Sarah chuckled, a hint of surprise in her eyes. “Well, aren’t you quick on your feet, Mr. Simon? Watch out, Megan,” she called over her shoulder, “we’ve got a charmer on our hands!”
As we continued our tour, a blur of blonde curls and colourful patterns materialised in front of us. Kelly, a burrito clutched in one hand, grinned at Sarah, a shower of crumbs escaping her lips.
“Sarah!” she exclaimed, her voice overflowing with enthusiasm. “Have you met the new guy yet? Dennis, this is Sarah, our fearless sales leader. Sarah, this is Dennis, the data wizard.”
Before I could offer a proper greeting, Kelly launched into a rapid-fire monologue. “I’m trying to convince him to watch Bridgerton, but he’s been living under a rock. Oh, and you guys have to try this burrito! It’s the bomb diggity.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Bridgerton, eh? Well, Dennis, consider it mandatory viewing for understanding the female psyche.”
As we sidestepped Kelly, who was already engrossed in a detailed description of the burrito’s flavour profile, she called out over her shoulder, “Oh, and Sarah, Lily just moved the bid review meeting up to now. Boardroom!”
Sarah’s eyes widened momentarily. “Of course she did,” she muttered under her breath. Then, turning to me, she said, “Well, Dennis, looks like we’re crashing a meeting. Shall we?”
Sarah pushed open the boardroom door, revealing a spacious room bathed in natural light. A long mahogany table dominated the centre, surrounded by high-backed leather chairs. Kevin, Megan, Amy, and a stern-looking woman with a black umbrella perched beside her chair were already seated, their attention focused on a series of charts and graphs projected onto the wall. At the head of the table, a man with silver hair and a warm smile stood, his hands resting lightly on the backrest of his chair.
“Everyone,” Sarah announced, her voice projecting confidence, “this is Dennis Simon, our new analyst.”
She gestured towards the woman with the umbrella. “Dennis, this is Lily Bennet, our Head of Operations. And this,” she continued, indicating the man at the head of the table, “is Rob Dawson, our CEO.”
Rob stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Welcome to MA&Co, Dennis,” he said, his voice a comforting baritone. “How has your first day been so far?”
“It’s been quite an introduction,” I replied, a hint of amusement in my voice. “Sarah’s been giving me a whirlwind tour.”
Kevin, his eyes twinkling behind his thick glasses, chimed in, “He’s also a fellow Umbrella Academy fan.”
Lily, who had been studying me with a critical eye, frowned slightly. “Umbrella Academy?” she questioned, her tone laced with disdain. “Isn’t that a children’s show?”
Rob chuckled. “Are you into science fiction, Dennis?” he asked, his eyes warm with curiosity.
“I enjoy all kinds of genres, as long as they stimulate my mind,” I replied.
Megan, a warm smile on her face, chimed in, “Perhaps you should get some viewing recommendations from Kelly. She’s our resident expert on all things pop culture.”
Her suggestion elicited a chorus of laughter from the group.
Rob’s smile widened. “Kelly never ceases to surprise me,” he remarked, a hint of fondness in his voice.
As the laughter subsided, I couldn’t help but notice the genuine camaraderie among the team, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere I’d encountered in some of the other departments. It was clear that Rob cared deeply about his employees, fostering an environment where individuality and humour were not only tolerated but encouraged.
The lights dimmed as Amy projected a slide onto the large screen. It displayed a detailed breakdown of the budget for a recent tender submission, highlighting areas of concern.
“As you can see,” Amy began, her voice a nervous tremor, “the budget doesn’t allow for the additional staff that Lily requested for her team.”
Sarah leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Lily, is there any way we can redistribute the workload within your existing team? Perhaps cross-train some employees to handle multiple tasks?”
Lily’s face darkened, her grip tightening on her black umbrella. “Absolutely not!” she snapped, her voice rising an octave. “These processes are in place for a reason. Cross-training would create chaos and confusion, leading to delays and errors.”
She threw her hands up in exasperation, her words tumbling out in a torrent of frustration. “We’re already stretched thin as it is! This is a recipe for disaster, I tell you. Disaster!”
The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. I glanced at Rob, who sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He observed the exchange with a calm detachment, his fingers steepled thoughtfully under his chin.
Sarah remained unfazed by Lily’s outburst. “With all due respect, Lily,” she said, her voice measured and firm, “we need to find a solution that works within the budget constraints. Hiring additional staff is simply not feasible at this time.”
Lily scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Of course,” she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sales always gets what it wants, while Operations is left to pick up the pieces.”
The debate continued, a volley of accusations and justifications flying back and forth across the table. I watched the exchange with a mix of fascination and apprehension, wondering how this conflict would be resolved.
The tension crackled in the air as Sarah and Lily volleyed arguments back and forth, their voices rising with each exchange. I kept my gaze fixed on the projected slide, feigning confusion while my mind raced.
Under the guise of examining the budget breakdown, I discreetly flipped through the bid and tender documents Lily had provided. My eyes scanned the dense paragraphs, quickly zeroing in on the section titled “Reporting Requirements.” A wave of clarity washed over me as I read the straightforward request: a daily data extract, nothing more, nothing less.
It was a simple solution to a seemingly complex problem, but I hesitated to reveal my discovery. I was, after all, the new guy. Announcing the obvious might come across as arrogant or undermine Lily’s authority.
I interjected, my voice carefully measured to convey genuine curiosity. “Excuse me,” I began, “I’m a bit confused. What exactly are these resources for?”
Lily’s response was curt, her irritation barely concealed. “Operational reporting, of course,” she snapped. “It’s far too complicated to explain to someone who’s just joined the company.”
I pressed on, feigning ignorance. “But what kind of reporting? Could you elaborate a bit more?”
With a sigh of exasperation, Lily launched into a detailed explanation, her words laced with technical jargon and industry-specific terms. I listened patiently, nodding along at appropriate intervals, all the while suppressing a knowing smile.
“But you still haven’t answered the question, what kind of reporting?” I pressed, undeterred by her dismissive tone
Lily scoffed, her irritation growing. “You wouldn’t understand, Dennis. It’s a complex system that’s been in place for years. You’ll learn eventually how things work at MA&Co.”
I took a deep breath, summoning my courage to challenge her. “With all due respect, Lily, I believe I do understand how reporting works. And perhaps,” I added, my voice gaining strength, “I might even have some insights on how a business like MA&Co should work.”
The room fell into a stunned silence. All eyes were on me, surprise and curiosity etched onto their faces. Lily’s jaw tightened, her grip on her umbrella intensifying. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable.
I turned to Megan, a polite curiosity in my voice. “Megan, if I may ask, what exactly does the request for tender document specify in terms of reporting requirements?”
Megan’s fingers danced across her keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen. “It states that MA&Co needs to provide the client with daily invoice reports by the close of each business day.”
Lily, her impatience evident, interjected, “Yes, and as I was saying, that requires building a comprehensive reporting dashboard, automating data extraction, and ensuring timely delivery. It’s a significant undertaking.”
I nodded, acknowledging Lily’s point, but kept my focus on Megan. “So, they want a copy of the daily invoices. Does the document specify the format?”
Megan scrolled further down the page. “They’ve provided a list of required fields,” she replied, “and we need to provide an extract.”
“A data extract,” I repeated, a spark of recognition igniting in my mind.
“What format?” I continued, my mind already racing with possibilities. “CSV? XLS?”
Megan nodded. “CSV or XLS,” she confirmed, a hint of relief in her voice that someone was finally asking the right questions.
I looked around the room, a small smile playing on my lips. “It seems to me,” I said, my voice clear and confident, “that all they want is a simple data dump.”
I turned to Kevin, who was still peering at me over his glasses. “Kevin,” I asked, “could we set up a scheduled job to send that data extract to the client every morning?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Kevin’s face, followed by a slow nod. “Sure thing,” he replied, his monotone voice betraying a hint of excitement. “We can easily schedule it to run at, say, 7 am every day. No big deal.”
Lily’s face flushed as she sputtered, “But… but the invoice data comes from our operational systems! It’s intertwined with our processes, and IT meddling will only disrupt everything!”
I held up a hand, calmly but firmly. “With all due respect, Lily, this isn’t an operations process to begin with. It’s a data extraction and delivery task, which falls squarely under ITs domain.”
Rob’s gaze lingered on me, a spark of approval in his eyes. “Well done, Dennis,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “It seems you’ve already identified a potential solution on your first day. That’s impressive.” He looked around the table, a gentle smile on his face. “This is exactly the kind of collaboration and problem-solving we need at MA&Co. I’m proud of you all.”
Sarah leaned back in her chair, a smug smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes met mine across the table, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a glimmer of respect in their depths. It was a small victory, but it felt good to have made a positive impression on my first day.
As we left the boardroom, the buzz of the meeting still lingering in the air, Sarah turned to me with a curious glint in her eye. “Alright, Dennis,” she said, her voice a mix of amusement and admiration, “spill it. How did you know the client didn’t need another resource and just wanted a simple data dump?”
I shrugged, a small smile playing on my lips. “It’s a common problem in large organisations,” I explained. “The people who respond to bids often don’t have a deep understanding of the client’s actual needs. It’s not their job to, really. So, when they hear the word ‘reports,’ they automatically assume it means complex dashboards and fancy visualisations.”
I paused, choosing my words carefully. “Lily, on the other hand, is… well, let’s just say she has a tendency to empire-build. By creating more work and requesting additional resources, she makes her team seem more valuable and indispensable.”
Sarah chuckled knowingly. “Oh, I’m well aware of Lily’s empire-building tendencies,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“But here’s the thing,” I continued, “no business leader or salesperson actually wants a complicated dashboard with a million buttons. They want information that’s clear, concise, and easy to understand. They want answers, not more questions.”
I paused for a moment, letting my words sink in. “And you know what’s even more interesting?” I added, my voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “I bet you dollars to donuts that the reason the client is asking for a raw data extract is because they have their own reporting warlord who’s doing the exact same thing Lily is — building an empire by making simple things complex.”
Sarah’s smile widened, a playful glint in her eyes. “Well, aren’t you the perceptive one?” she purred, her voice dropping to a husky tone. “Most people take weeks to figure out half of what you’ve gleaned in a few hours.”
She leaned closer, her perfume a subtle blend of vanilla and spice, her breath tickling my ear. “You might just be the smartest man in this office, Dennis Simon,” she whispered, her words a tantalising mix of praise and flirtation. “And trust me, that’s a rare commodity around here.”
I felt my cheeks flush, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. “I’m just trying to make myself useful,” I mumbled, my eyes darting away from her intense gaze.
Sarah chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Don’t sell yourself short, darling,” she said, patting my arm reassuringly. “You’ve got a bright future ahead of you at MA&Co. Just try not to get sucked into the madness.”
Continue to Chapter 3
