Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Shane loved going into the office. Sure, having the flexibility to work from home was nice, but he was happiest when he made the drive into work. Every day looked similar: he left the house by 7:30 a.m., breakfast smoothie and packed lunch in hand, and turned on an audiobook for the 20-minute commute downtown. Upon arriving at the office, he'd spend a few minutes reviewing his to-do list and planning for the day before heading to the communal kitchen to put his lunch in the fridge, always popping into his coworker Rose's office to say hello afterwards. Shane usually reserved his mornings for focused work– his mind was always sharpest earlier in the day– and after a short lunch break, he'd let himself have his daily treat: a crisp ginger ale from the third floor drink fridge. With the help of the ginger ale, Shane could power through his afternoon meetings and be out the door by 5:00pm.

On this particular day, Shane arrived at the office with some extra enthusiasm for what lay ahead. It was a warm Tuesday morning, the start of a new fiscal quarter, and a huge new opportunity was set to be announced to the company. SportCorp, the sports consulting firm where Shane had worked for nearly five years, was signing a contract with a ginormous new client: Major League Hockey. Shane would play a pivotal role in the project.

MLH was looking to create several new expansion teams across North America, and they had tapped SportCorp to help. SportCorp, with expertise in data analysis, financial management, marketing, and more, was set to consult on the project from beginning to end. They would evaluate potential cities for the expansion teams to land in, analyzing everything from revenue projections to fan engagement statistics to help MLH choose the perfect locations. SportCorp would suggest marketing and branding strategies for the new franchises, using cutting-edge market research to select mascots and colors that were sure to engage fans. And they would assist MLH in finding owners for the new teams and negotiating contracts with arenas, helping manage operations until the moment the puck hit the ice in the expansion teams’ first games.

As a data analyst at SportCorp, Shane was responsible for transforming data– survey results, revenue data, reports on consumer behavior, and more– into meaningful insights for his clients. And on this particular project, Shane would be the lead data analyst. Shane had been thrilled by this news when he first heard it from his manager. A lead role was an opportunity to prove his excellence at his job and his value to the company. Plus, Shane loved hockey. The MLH project was a perfect fit.

Following his usual routine, Shane spent a few moments getting organized in his office before heading down the hall to put his lunch in the fridge. He took a detour on his way back to his desk so he could pass by the marketing department.

“Morning!” Shane called out, poking his head into Rose’s office. It was much cozier than Shane’s office, which had the typical sterile, corporate feel. Rose had brought in her own lamps, and she never turned on the overhead light. She kept framed pictures of her and her friends on the windowsill behind her desk, and she had even gotten approval from the building services department to hang some art up on the gray walls.

“Good morning! Ready for the big announcement?” Rose smiled.

“Mmhmm,” Shane nodded. Rose would be working on the MLH project too, as marketing lead. Shane was excited: Rose had worked in marketing at SportCorp for years, and prior to that she had led communications strategy at a major Hollywood agency. She brought tons of experience in marketing, communications, design, and more. More importantly, it was always nice to have a friend on high-stakes projects, and Rose was an excellent work friend. She and Shane loved leaving the office early on Fridays for happy hour and gossiping about the latest company drama over drinks.

“Well, I have tea,” Rose announced. Rose was either loved or revered by almost everyone at the company, and as a result she was privy to news on company drama, scandal, or reorganization before most others.

"Of course you do. Is it door-closed tea?"

"Yes, door-closed tea," Rose replied, beckoning Shane into her office. He stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him.

"You know how I heard that Hayden P was going to be the client management lead on the new MLH project?" Rose asked.

"Yeah, I remember." Rose had learned this weeks ago from a friend on the client management team and told Shane instantly. He had been pleased by the news. A good client manager was key to a project’s success, since they were responsible for keeping the project on track and for managing all communications with the customer. Shane generally liked Hayden P: he was good at his job and would do well on the project. And, like Shane, he was a fan of the Montreal Metros, which meant Shane always had something to talk to him about.

"Well, he's off the MLH deal. His wife is pregnant again, and he told management he didn't want to be added to a huge new project before going out on paternity leave," Rose confided.

"She's pregnant again?"

"Yes, Shane, it's only their third. And that's not the point! The point is that someone else will have to lead," Rose rolled her eyes as Shane considered the news. The MLH project was extremely high-stakes, and Shane knew he'd be working closely with the client manager over the next few months. He tried to think of who else from the client management team might have enough experience to be staffed on the project. Kip G, maybe? Cliff M? No, Cliff M had transferred to the finance department.

"Well, as long as they don't replace Hayden P with you-know-who," Shane declared. That would be the worst case scenario. You-know-who was Shane’s code word for their least favorite SportCorp coworker: Ilya Rozanov. In his almost five years at SportCorp, Shane had never met someone so abrasive as Rozanov. He regularly scheduled meetings for 4:30pm, when everyone was ready to end the day and go home. He wrote his Slack messages with no punctuation, and his emails almost always ended with "Sent from my iPhone." He was known for relentlessly pestering coworkers about deadlines, for emailing clients at all hours of the night, and for interrupting others in meetings. Shane had heard a rumor that Rozanov used a communal microwave to heat up leftover fish for lunch; Shane couldn’t confirm this, since they worked on different floors, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. Shane hated working with Rozanov, and their previous project together had been a headache at best and a disaster waiting to happen at worst.

Shane and Rozanov had been staffed on only one project together before: a small contract helping a mid-sized sports charity get a new youth soccer program up and running. The work itself had gone well, but collaboration with Rozanov was a pain. Shane wasn’t entirely unprepared for that: his coworkers had warned him of Rozanov’s reputation. But he had felt Rozanov was somewhat tolerable, albeit annoying, up until the incident occurred.

Rozanov and Shane had been discussing financial details with some executives at the soccer charity on a long, drawn-out email chain. In an uncharacteristic mixup, Shane had thought the charity needed him to deliver his complete findings on a Tuesday; he realized too late that the client had actually asked if they could receive the information a few days earlier. Embarrassed of the mistake, he rushed to deliver the results and apologized profusely to the client, who responded gracefully. He thought he had escaped the mishap scot-free, until he received a horrifically passive aggressive email from Rozanov, with Shane’s manager cc’ed.

”Shane,” the email had read, ”thank you for delivering results to the client today. Per my last email, the client requested to receive the results by the end of last week. Please let me know how I can assist in ensuring on-time delivery moving forward.” It turned out Shane had somehow missed an earlier email from Rozanov clarifying the deadline.

Shane had been mortified, and he had decided he’d never forgive Rozanov for escalating the matter beyond the two of them. Plus, everyone knew that “per my last email” was corporate speak for “I think you’re a dumbass.” It was like a Southern woman saying “bless your heart.”

"Let's hope it isn’t him," Rose replied, crinkling her nose in disgust and bringing Shane back to reality. She shared Shane’s distaste for Rozanov.

Shane and Rose spent a few more minutes speculating who from client management could possibly be tapped to lead the MLH contract, but they couldn’t land on a solid prediction. Eventually, Shane headed back to his desk. He had plenty of work to do, and there was no use in spending too much time speculating. They would learn who would replace Hayden P soon enough.

Through the morning, Shane was kept on edge by a constant thrum of anticipation for the impending announcement. As much as he tried to absorb himself in his work, it was hard to think of anything but MLH. As soon as the project was officially announced, Shane could begin planning and organizing everything he needed to do to make the contract a success– and he had a lot of planning to do.

Shane was good at his job. He got solid scores on all of his performance reviews and had earned a healthy raise every year since his initial hire. He knew he was close to a promotion, but he wasn’t quite there yet. In a 1-on-1 a few weeks ago, Shane’s boss had said he was looking for one last piece of evidence of Shane’s readiness, one final sign that Shane could handle SportCorp’s largest, most high-profile clients by himself. It was Shane’s job to deliver that evidence, and the MLH project was his perfect opening.

Shane knew he shouldn’t tie his self-worth into his performance at work. In his spare time, he enjoyed reading self-help books (or as he liked to think of them, self-improvement books), and everything he’d read about building a successful and sustainable career said that it was important to limit overlap between your professional identity and your personal one. But Shane couldn’t help it: he had always loved the feeling of doing a good job, something his parents joked dated back to his extreme level of competitiveness in pee-wee hockey. And a promotion would come with a raise and an increase in his retirement contribution, which didn’t hurt either. He’d been considering using the money towards investing in a rental property.

Finally, after opening and closing the same spreadsheet approximately 30 times over the span of an hour, Shane heard the notification signaling the announcement he’d been waiting for. He pivoted his attention to his second monitor, opened Slack, and clicked into the new message from Svetlana Vetrova, director of the client management department.

Shane paused, re-read the message, and paused again. And @Ilya Rozanov will lead this work as client manager.

Fuck.

Shane reacted to the message, opting for the corporate equivalent of a silent fuck-you: the thumbs-up emoji. None of his coworkers would bat an eye at the reaction, but Shane knew the thumbs up was colder, meaner, more detached than his usual go-to smiley face. Working with Rozanov did not warrant the smiley face.

He then opened a new DM with Rose and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately.

Shane sat staring at his keyboard, caught between his irritation at having to work with Rozanov and his despair over what this would mean for the project. This was not the start he had hoped for. This contract was Shane’s opportunity to show real career growth, to prove he was ready for more responsibility and for bigger clients. And Rozanov was…. an obstacle. More than that: Rozanov was a guarantee to make Shane’s life at work a living hell, if their prior work together was anything to go by.

Shane sighed, stood up, and headed towards the third floor drink fridge. His emotional support ginger ale was going to have to come early today. In fact, he was going to need a lot of ginger ale to make it through the next few months.