Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Umm. Yeah. Bennett said he was going to order dinner for us.”
She frowned. “I also have two cans of ginger ale, four Sargento cheddar cheese sticks, and a half-used squeezable Smucker’s grape jelly in there.”
“Okay. Well, I wasn’t planning on helping myself to someone’s food in the refrigerator. But that’s good to know.”
“There’re menus in the top, right-hand drawer.”
“Okay. Thank you. Is Bennett in his office?”
“He went for a run. Normally he runs in the morning, but he went out about forty-five minutes ago since I told him you were going to be late.” Marina glanced around the room, then leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Between us girls, you might want to watch your supplies around him.”
“Supplies?”
“Paper clips, notepads, staplers—some people around here have sticky fingers, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ll…remember that. Thanks for the heads up, Marina.”
Twenty minutes later, Bennett popped his head into my office. His hair was wet and slicked back, and he’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans. He held a pizza box in one hand. “You ready?”
“Did you pay for that pizza or swipe it from Marina?”
He dropped his head. “She got to you already.”
I grinned. “She did. But I’m curious to hear the backstory from you.”
“Well, unless you like cold pizza, that’ll have to wait. Because explaining how nuts that woman is might take a while.”
I laughed. “Okay. Where do you want to work?” I nodded to the box sitting on the guest chair on the other side of my desk. “I packed some stuff to prepare just in case you wanted to go elsewhere.”
He walked toward my desk. “Of course you did. Wanna know what I did to prepare?”
“What?”
“I picked up two shot glasses at the little touristy shop down the block, just in case we feel the need to test drive the product.” Bennett plopped the pizza box on top of my box and lifted from the bottom. He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s spread out in the bullpen. I think everyone else is gone for the day.”
***
The Foster Burnett marketing bullpen was very different than the one we’d had at Wren. Aside from it being twice the size—which made sense since Foster Burnett had twice the employees of Wren—it was set up like a dream college dorm lounge. Both bullpens had two couches and a coffee table, but that’s where the similarities ended. Wren had framed inspirational quotes, easels holding white boards, a large drafting table for sketching ideas, and a small fridge with soft drinks. Foster Burnett had one long wall painted black that doubled as an enormous chalkboard, a foosball table, a full-sized Ms. Pac-Man arcade game, colorful beanbag chairs, dozens of origami animals hanging from the ceiling, and two well-stocked 1950’s vending machines for soda and snacks in which everything cost only twenty-five cents.
“This room is nothing like the one we had at the old office.”
Bennett leaned forward and tore a second slice of pizza from the pie, sliding it onto his paper plate. He held the box open. “You ready for another one?”
“No, thanks. Not yet.”
He nodded and folded his pizza in half. “What was Wren’s bullpen like?”
“Less dorm room décor and more corporate team building.”
“Framed picture of a pack of wolves with some bullshit teamwork slogan?”
We didn’t have that particular one, but I knew the print he was referring to.
“Exactly.”
“I set up this room when we moved up to this floor. Tried to get them to put a few showers in, but HR wouldn’t go for it.”
“Showers?”
“I do my best thinking in the shower.”
“Huh. I feel like my best epiphanies come in the shower, too. I’ve always wondered why that is.”
“It takes away all outside stimuli and allows our mind to switch into daydreaming mode by relaxing the prefrontal cortex of the brain. It’s known as DMN, default mode network. When the brain is in DMN, we use different regions of it—literally opening up our minds.”
He shoved a quarter of his slice into his mouth, seeming not to notice the surprise on my face.
“Wow. I didn’t know that. I mean, I knew why we sometimes need to get out of the office or play a video game to free up our headspace. But I’d never heard the scientific explanation behind it.”
I flipped open the pizza box and took out another slice. Lifting it into my mouth, I looked up and found Bennett watching me intently.
“What?” I wiped at my cheek with the napkin in my other hand. “Do I have sauce on my face or something?”
“Just surprised you eat more than one slice of pizza.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you saying I shouldn’t eat more than one?”
He held up his hands. “Not at all. That wasn’t a weight comment.”
“Then what did it mean?”
Bennett shook his head. “Nothing. Just something a friend of mine said about girls who actually eat.”