Chapter 18 Not In My Job Description
Over the next few days, I spend most of my time being sent on coffee runs. The team have barely left the conference room except to eat, sleep and hopefully shower. Although that last one is questionable, based on the awful stench in the conference room.
We’ve been working late every day and Noah has been coming in earlier and earlier each morning. It’s a real challenge, trying to arrive before him, one I’m failing to meet.
We’re working around the clock but no one has complained yet, at least not that I’ve heard. They’re excited, eager to make the rocking beds the company’s best product ever. It’s not enough for it to be this year’s bestseller, the goal Noah set them. No. They’re on a mission to achieve more than ever before.
I’ve got to respect them for it. They really love this job.
I can’t help but wonder if the other teams are the same. Do they have the same drive? It’s hard to believe anyone else being as invested as Design Team One.
It’s intriguing, watching them work, the random seemingly hairbrained idea that came out of nowhere being turned into something, I can imagine people actually buying. Heck, I’d even buy a rocking bed now.
Even Noah is getting involved, his sleeves rolled up and fingers covered in pencil smudges. Spying over his shoulder, I’m surprised to find that he’s actually pretty good. Unlike me. If I were to try and draw a rocking bed, it would probably look more like a scribbly distorted box. I really can’t draw but I’m not about to admit that to anyone here.
“What do you think, Eden?” Noah asks, looking up at me.
I bite my tongue, trying to hold in a giggle. Noah has pencil on his face. Instinctively, I reach for my own face. I can’t tell him that he’s got a smudge on his face but I can’t ignore it either.
I’m staring at it, not knowing what to do. Again, I touch my face, hoping that he’ll take the hint but he doesn’t.
“What do you think?” he asks again.
“Pencil,” I say, pointing towards his face.
He doesn’t understand what I’m trying to tell him. Mostly, because I’m being a complete idiot about it. I should just tell him.
“You want the pencil?” he asks, holding it out for me.
No! I don’t want a pencil. I can’t draw! I have no intentions of playing Pictionary with these people. Not now. Not ever. I’d lose hands down.
“Do you have an idea?” he asks.
He’s in a good mood. Patient. Perhaps he won’t be a complete jerk if I tell him outright.
“You have pencil on your face,” I mutter.
He leans back in his chair, letting out a deep chuckle. Everyone else is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. It’s not every day, Noah Grisham laughs like that. He’s well known for being a moody git. It’s not just me that thinks that about him; everyone does.
“So, you don’t want the pencil?” he asks, still smiling broadly.
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. I say it too quickly. Too loudly.
His eyes narrow and everyone else is watching us closely.
“It’s only a pencil,” he says, clearly bemused.
I ignore him. Glancing at my watch, I’m relieved to see that it’s almost three in the afternoon.
“You have a meeting, sir,” I tell him coolly.
Climbing to his feet, he tells us all that he better go wash his face. The team don’t even bother hiding their entertainment as he makes his way out of the conference room.
“Can’t you draw, Eden?” Stacey asks, looking up from her own design.
“Er…” I’m not sure why I feel so embarrassed about it. It’s hardly a requirement of my job description. “No.”
“Seriously?” Rob asks. “I thought everyone could draw… Like you might have to learn it, but it’s not impossible.”
“No, I really can’t draw.”
Stacey hands me a white board marker. “Prove it.”
I hesitate. I really don’t want to.
“Draw a cat,” she tells me.
“A cat?” Is she serious? I can’t draw a cat!
Stepping towards the board, I extend my hand. First I draw a circle. It’s not even round. There’s no way this is going to look anything like a cat. I give it eyes, ears and a nose before adding some whiskers.
Moving away, I wait for their verdict.
“That’s a cat?” Rob asks. “It sort of looks like a bumble bee.”
“Try a…” Stacey pauses. “What’s easier than a cat?”
“A book,” someone says. “Anyone could draw a book.”
I spend the next few minutes drawing everything from a fish to a sheep. When they ask me to draw Stacey, I groan. There’s no way I can draw a person. I don’t really understand why they’re finding my inability to draw so fascinating.
Just as I’m finishing off my drawing, Noah pops his head around the door to ask me something. He squints his eyes at my drawing.
“What’s that?” he asks bluntly. “It looks like a horse.”
“A horse!” I gulp, glancing at Stacey.
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