INVASIVE VINE? PITTSBURGH Tech Startup CEO Too Flighty for Lasting Fame
Isaiah Childers, Forbes correspondent
“There is no bottom.” I stand by Audrey’s desk and take off my shoes. My mom used to do that when she got home from work—take off her high heels and drop them inside the front door and just dive in to whatever disaster awaited her, whether that was peed sheets to wash or the frenzied clutter from getting three kids out the door for daycare in the morning.
Audrey raises a brow at me when I set the shoes next to her desk. “You okay? Wait. I can see that you’re not. Let me start again.” She looks up to Logan and Shane, who are cringing around a print copy of Forbes magazine. Audrey stands up and places her hands on my shoulders. “We love you. And we’re a team here at Vinea. And we’re going to figure out a solution to this.”
The feature story about me has run in today’s edition, and the reporter did not paint a flattering picture. Shane looks particularly irate as they stare at the magazine. “I hate this part where douche canoe calls you flighty and distracted,” they say. “If you were a man, this would probably be a glowing analysis of you managing multiple irons in multiple fires.” Audrey snorts.
Logan bites her lip. “This doesn’t seem to have been edited very well,” she says. “There are no quotes from your major early investors. No interviews with anyone from the board. It’s like he wrote a day in the life piece but only captured the stressful parts of your day!”
I take a deep breath and squat down to pick up one of the shoes. And then I bang the heel of it on the polished concrete floor a few times while roaring in frustration. The heel snaps off the shoe and Shane gently plucks the ruined footwear from my hand, shaking their head. “Sam, let’s be solution-focused.”
They look up at Logan, who takes a deep breath and sits down on the floor next to me. Shane and Audrey follow suit, just sitting on the floor in their fancy work clothes while I noisily fall apart. I might be able to handle an article slamming me on a normal day, but not after getting rejected and not when we’re on the cusp of bombing our IPO. I look at Logan, hoping she will come through with some good news in the face of this very public shaming.
She pats her thighs. “Okay, so most important is we’ve got growth and profits out the wazoo. From a numbers perspective, we are golden.” She raises her brows and nods at Audrey. Audrey raises her brows and claps her hands.
I shake my head. “This article was supposed to prop me up as the leadership beacon the company needs to forge ahead. Our board is going to want…I don’t even know.” I start rubbing my temples.
Shane pats my shoulder with the hand that is not holding the shoe. “The board will want to know you’ve put wheels in motion to hire additional leadership talent. Check!” They hold up the shoe to outline a checkmark in the air. “We fast tracked the candidate for the marketing, which is great timing!” Their voice gets a singsong quality as they gesture with the shoe. “The new person was between jobs after having a baby and can start immediately. I’ll just text them that immediately can be today.”
My spine crushes in on itself a little as I consider that the solution to this problem is out of my personal control. The answer to Vinea’s new public relations crisis is to winnow more and more administration of the business out of my hands. “Doesn’t this make me a big failure?”
Logan looks confused. “What would give you that idea?”
I gesture all around me. “I am a disaster at the helm. I’m steering this ship into an iceberg. And other captain metaphors…”
Logan pats my arm. “Can you list any major companies where one person does all the work?” I blink at her a few times. She continues with her leading questions. “Do you have secret advanced degrees in business administration or strategic development?” I shake my head and she smiles. “Sam, honey, this will always be your company. You will always be the founder and it will always have your name on the building.” Logan shrugs. “You just get to partner with more people now to keep the momentum.”
Logically, what she’s saying registers. But on the heels of dinner with my father, and conversations with my family, and AJ’s rejection…all I hear is that my failure to woo that Forbes reporter is costing me the opportunity to bring Vinea to the next level. “When’s our next board meeting? I need to go to my office and prepare.”
Shane shakes their head. “Sam,” they say. “Let’s on-board the marketing pro and get their take. We hired someone to shape board remarks. Let’s use that expertise.”
I snap my eyes to each of my team’s faces. “Okay, so what do you suggest I do? Go sit in my office and work on my cuticles?” They all cross their arms and squint at me. I wince. “I’m sorry for my tone. What should I do?”
My fingers itch to go code something, to find a solvable problem and dig in. Audrey’s face brightens and she pulls up an app on her tablet to show me. “First of all, I’m renaming myself Operations Manager or Chief of Staff,” she says. I gesture for her to continue. “We’re working on the policies and procedures piece of the IPO packet and you’ve got a binder of codes of conduct, employee handbooks, and workplace hygiene documents to read carefully and sign off on.”
I wrinkle my nose. Shane slides me a business card. “You’ve also got one more conversation with a potential board member and I think you’ll really like this one,” they say.
I look around at them and back to the Forbes article sitting up on Audrey’s desk. She reaches up and flicks the magazine into the recycling bin. “Okay,” I tell them. I nod. “Okay. It’s good to have a to-do list.”
“Yes,” Logan says. “Love a good list.” She squeezes my leg and the three of them hustle off toward the kitchen. I realize we’ve had this intense conversation before most of the staff even arrives. My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it, heading to my office to bury myself in paperwork.
A few hours later, my desk phone rings and when I answer, I don’t recognize the voice on the other end. “Ms. Vine?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Noelle? Audrey hired me as admin?”
“Oh. That sounds nice.” I move to hang up the phone but Noelle continues.
“We’ve had a delivery for you. Would you like me to bring it in? It’s just that there’s a Do Not Disturb sign on your door…”
Did I put that up? I honestly can’t remember. My stomach growls again. I’m not taking good care of myself today. “Yes, Noelle, please bring in whatever it is.”
A perky brunette enters my office carrying a bakery box. My interest is piqued. “Here you go, Ms. Vine.” She sets the box on my desk and tucks her hair behind her ears, like she’s waiting for me to open the package.
“Call me Sam,” I mutter as I run a nail along the seal on the pink box. I lift the lid to discover a thick slice of decadent cake. I gasp. My stomach growls loudly and my mouth waters.
Noelle peers over my shoulder. “Oh that looks yummy,” she says. “There’s a card inside!” She points along the back of the box, where a lined index card is wedged behind the cake.
To my knowledge, this has not been on the floor. Regards.
—AJ
I stare at the note, uncertain what to make of his words. I flip the card over, but there is nothing else. No further note on the back. Noelle squints as she reads over my shoulder. “That’s a weird note, Sam,” she says. She puts her hands on her hips. “You want me to get you a fork?”
“Please.” She hustles out of the room and I stare at the tidy, slanted handwriting. What am I supposed to make of this? On the one hand, the man went out and bought me cake. And either had it delivered or brought it to me at work. But this note…is he flirting?
Noelle returns with the fork and I inhale the first half of the cake, pausing to savor as I move on to the rest of it. I check the time and realize it’s late enough in the day that AJ is probably done teaching. One more bite of cake and I pull out my phone to send him a message.
What’s with the note?
He writes back almost immediately. You got the delivery?
I send him a selfie of me with a forkful of cake.
He calls me. I answer but neither of us speaks. I huff. “This is all really weird, Trachtenberg. Seriously. What’s with the note?”
He groans. “I was trying to be flirty. You know. Floor cake. The party…”
“This is you flirting?”
He huffs. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be good with people. You’re welcome for the cake.” My phone beeps as he hangs up.
“What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” I call him back. “Are you trying to get under my skin? Are you in cahoots with the Forbes people?”
“Who? No. Oy vey, Samantha. I’m trying to get into your pants.” I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. When he speaks, it sounds like his voice is tiny and far away. “God, I am colossally terrible at this. Objectively bad. I’m sorry. Forget I called. Forget I sent you weird notes and cake.”
“No!” I shout at him as I bring the phone back to my ear. “I will not forget the cake, sir. This cake is excellent. Where’s it from? There’s no branding on the box.”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me where Vinea gets its coffee.” I can hear a laugh on the edge of his words. I like it.
“If I knew that answer, I’d give it to you. Audrey used to handle the coffee but she promoted herself so I’m not sure what happens next.”
He blows out a breath. “Can we start over?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to start over.” I grip the edge of my desk and decide to just say what’s on my mind. “I want to pick up where we left off.”
“What does that mean to you exactly…”
“The part after you were licking frosting off my collar bone but before you ran out of the room!”