Turn 11 of 12

Ask around the office about Nadine Cho — who she is, what people know

You wait until ten, when the third floor has loosened into its post-stand-up murmur of keyboard sounds and half-cubicle conversations, and then you walk to the kitchen under the pretense of refilling your water bottle. Rachel from Marketing is at the counter, stirring something herbal and fragrant that turns the water brown. She's chatty in the way people are when they've been at the same company long enough to treat the kitchen like a living room. 'Hey,' you say. 'Records temp. Brooke. Quick question — do you know Nadine Cho?'

Rachel's spoon stops mid-stir. It's a small pause, a half-beat, but you catch it the way you'd catch a missed step on stairs. 'Nadine? Sure. She's — I mean, she's Records, right? Has been forever.' The spoon resumes. 'She's nice. Very — organized. She runs a tight ship down there, I think. I don't actually know what she does, to be honest. Nobody really does.' She laughs, a short bright sound. 'She's been here longer than the carpet. Longer than the CFO. I heard she was here before they restructured the fourth floor, and that was — god, 2015? 2016?'

You fill your water bottle slowly. 'What was her role before Records?'

Rachel frowns, and the frown is genuine — not hiding something, just genuinely not remembering. 'I think she was — didn't she used to be in Client Services? Something client-facing. She was good at it, I heard. Very warm, very — you know, good with people.' She sips her tea. 'Then she moved to Records and nobody saw her much after that. She's like a ghost who still has a desk.'

You carry the water bottle back toward your desk but detour past Dale's cubicle. Dale has been here nine years and knows everything about everyone, which he compensates for by offering information no one asked for. You lean against his cubicle wall. 'Dale. Nadine Cho — what's her deal?'

He doesn't look up from his screen. 'Nadine's the Records manager. She's been doing it since before I started.' His fingers pause. 'She's good at it. Too good. You know how most managers lose track of their people? Nadine never loses track. It's like she's got a file on everyone.' He glances at you, quick and sideways. 'She's got a file on everyone, Brooke. Literally. That's her job.' He turns back to his screen. 'Why do you ask?'

'Started Friday. She's my manager.'

'Mmhm.' Dale's tone is the tone of a man who has said exactly as much as he intends to. 'She leave you anything? A badge, maybe?'

The question lands like a fingertip on a bruise. You don't answer it. You walk back to your desk and sit down and your inbox has fourteen new emails, one of them from HR with the subject line ATTENDANCE REMINDER and a frowny-face emoticon used with complete sincerity. You delete it. The badge is warm against your sternum and Dale knows about the badge, or he's guessed, or someone told him, and Nadine has been here since before the carpet and she used to be warm and client-facing and good with people, and now she's a ghost who still has a desk. You think about the cabinet. You think about what it means to be good with people and then to become someone who files them.