Chapter 20: You Notice Things Others Miss (1)
He took a slow sip from his thermos.
The coffee was already cooling.
Lukewarm.
Like everything in this place.
---
EL'S CUBICLE – 10:30 AM
El had been working for an hour when a head appeared over his cubicle wall.
Not Demi's.
Mark's.
"Hey El. Question."
El looked up, thermos halfway to his lips.
"What exactly do you do all day? Like... specifically. I'm a coordinator, so I coordinate things. But what does a marketing assistant actually DO?"
El blinked.
"You've been here three years and you don't know?"
Mark shrugged.
"I've been too busy doing MY job to notice YOUR job. Humor me."
El took a slow sip.
Set the thermos down.
Considered the question.
Then.
"Market research. Competitor analysis. Data compilation. I find patterns in consumer behavior, organize them into reports, and present them to the team so they know what to sell and who to sell it to."
Mark's eyebrows rose.
"So you're like... a detective. For products."
El's eyebrow twitched—his version of a smile.
"Something like that."
"Huh." Mark nodded slowly.
"That's actually kind of cool." Pause.
"Way cooler than coordinating. You know what I coordinate? Meetings. Schedules. People who don't respond to emails. It's glorified babysitting."
He noticed El's thermos.
"Also, that coffee smells way better than break room coffee."
"It's not from the break room."
"Where from?"
"Home."
Mark's face fell. "You bring your OWN coffee? That's... that's genius. Why don't I bring my own coffee?"
El shrugged.
"You could."
Mark stared into the distance.
"I could. I really could."
He disappeared back into his cubicle, muttering.
"Bring my own coffee... why didn't I think of that..."
A moment later, his voice floated over the wall.
"BABYSITTING, EL. WITH A TITLE."
From across the way, Théo's head appeared.
"Is coordinating really that bad? I thought coordinating sounded important."
Mark's head shot back up.
"IMPORTANT? You want IMPORTANT? Let me tell you about IMPORTANT, kid. Yesterday I spent TWO HOURS mediating a dispute about the break room microwave.
Two. Hours. Do you know what that dispute was about? SOMEONE PUT FISH IN IT. FISH, THÉO. And I had to write a REPORT about it."
Théo's eyes widened.
"There's a fish protocol?"
"THERE IS NOW. BECAUSE OF ME."
Théo slowly retreated back into his cubicle, clutching his sad cup of break room coffee like a shield.
---
BREAK ROOM – 12:30 PM
El was heating his leftovers when the door swung open.
Hope bounced in, beaming, her optimistic travel mug in hand.
"Oh! El! Hi!"
She grabbed her lunch from the fridge.
"Is that your thermos? It's nice. Very... professional."
El looked at his beat-up thermos—scratched, dented, held together by habit and caffeine dependence.
"Thanks."
"I'm a tea person myself,"
Hope continued, holding up her mug.
"But I respect coffee people. You're dedicated. Committed. A little bit addictive, but in a charming way."
El wasn't sure how to respond.
Théo crept in behind Hope, holding another sad-looking cup of break room coffee.
He sniffed it.
Made the same face as before.
"How do you guys drink this every day?" he asked.
"It's like... punishment in a cup."
"You get used to it," El said.
Théo looked horrified.
"That's not comforting."
Hope patted his shoulder.
"One day you'll discover good coffee, Théo. Today is not that day."
"When is that day?" Théo asked miserably.
"Soon," El said quietly. "Hopefully."
The microwave beeped.
El grabbed his leftovers and left them to their coffee misery.
---
EL'S CUBICLE – 2:15 PM
El's thermos was empty by 2 PM.
He should have known better—should have rationed.
But morning El was optimistic.
Afternoon El was suffering.
He stared at the empty container.
Demi appeared, vaulting over the cubicle wall with his usual lack of grace.
"You're doing the sad face. The 'my coffee is gone' sad face."
"I don't have a sad face."
"You absolutely have a sad face. It's tragic. Like a puppy in the rain."
Demi reached into his drawer and pulled out—a packet of instant coffee.
"Here. Emergency stash."
El stared at it.
"You have emergency coffee?"
"I have an emergency EVERYTHING. Coffee, chips, bandaids, backup charger, tiny sewing kit, breath mints, and a picture of my cat."
Demi paused.
"I don't have a cat. I just like the picture."
El took the packet. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me. Thank Future Demi, who bought this and forgot about it until now."
El was about to get up for hot water when he felt eyes on him.
He looked up.
Nev stood at the entrance to his cubicle row, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Just... watching.
Not staring.
Observing.
Like El was a specimen under glass.
"El Ignacio."
El nodded.
"Nev."
Nev stepped closer.
No smile.
No warmth.
Just those sharp eyes.
"I've read your quarterly reports from the last two years."
His voice was calm, measured.
"Your analysis is... precise. You notice things others miss."
El wasn't sure how to respond.
"Thank you?"
"It wasn't a compliment."
Nev's head tilted slightly.
"Just an observation." A pause.
"Lesive could use someone like you."
He walked away before El could respond.
Demi materialized instantly.
"WHAT DID HE WANT. WHY WAS HE STARING. IS HE A SPY. I KNEW IT. RIVAL COMPANY SENDS A SPY."
El's eyebrow twitched.
"He said I notice things."
"THAT'S WHAT A SPY WOULD SAY."
"He said Lesive could use someone like me."
"THAT'S WHAT A SPY WOULD SAY TO RECRUIT YOU."
Demi grabbed El's shoulders.
"You're not going, right? You're not leaving me for the rival company? I'll die, El. I'll literally die. Who will make fun of your spice rack?"
From across the way, Théo's voice floated over.
"Wait, Lesive? The Lesive Association? They have a whole floor with nap pods. I read about it online."
Demi spun around.
"NAP PODS?!"
Théo nodded earnestly.
"And free snacks. And a coffee machine that actually works."
Demi turned back to El, eyes wide with betrayal.
"El. Don't."
El shrugged him off.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"GOOD. Because I already have a whole bit about 'El sells out to the corporate overlords' and it's hilarious but also sad."
"Can I hear the bit?"
"NOT NOW, THÉO."
"Okay sorry."
His head disappeared.
El looked at the instant coffee packet in his hand. Then at his empty thermos.
Priorities.
---
MR. HENDRICKS' OFFICE – 3:00 PM
Loud voices carried through the thin office walls.
"—WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, SIR, I AM A COORDINATOR. NOT AN ASSISTANT. THERE'S A DIFFERENCE. I HAVE A JOB DESCRIPTION. IT'S VERY SPECIFIC."
Mark's voice. Desperate. Angry.
Then Hendricks' voice, lower, colder .
"Watch your tone, Mark."
The door flew open.
Mark stormed out, face red, fists clenched.
He passed El's cubicle, stopped, breathed heavily.
"You know what he wanted me to do? FILE. ORGANIZATION. Physical files. By HAND."
From across the way, Théo's head appeared.
He looked terrified but also... curious.
Mark noticed him.
"YOU. Théo. You're an intern, right? That means you do assistant work. TELL ME. Is it normal for a COORDINATOR to reorganize physical files?"
Théo swallowed.
"I... I don't know? I just print things and try not to get yelled at."
"EXACTLY. You print things. You're an INTERN. I'm a COORDINATOR. There's a HIERARCHY."
"There is?"
"THERE'S SUPPOSED TO BE."
He stalked off toward his cubicle.
Théo, still visible over his cubicle wall, looked at El with wide eyes.
"Is it always like this?"
El's eyebrow twitched.
"Welcome to Tate."
"...I need to update my resume."
Hope appeared beside Théo's cubicle, patting his shoulder with her travel mug hand.
"Don't worry! Every office has growing pains! You're doing great!"
Théo looked at her like she'd just spoken a foreign language.
"Growing... pains?"
"You'll be fine! I believe in you!"
"...I don't know what to do with that."
"You'll learn! Also, your coffee looks sad. Want some tea? I have extra bags."
Théo stared at her.
"You... you would share tea with me?"
"Of course! That's what work friends do!"
Théo looked like he might cry.