Free The Hole in the Middle by Kate Hilton Page B

time. Lately, though, I think the novelty may be wearing off for both of us.
    Geoff arrives for a morning debrief, which I have scheduled first thing so that there is no way I can bump it. He sniffs cautiously.
    â€œI’m working on it,” I say. Joy reappears with the Febreze, and I mist myself generously from head to toe. “Better?” I ask.
    â€œMuch,” he says. “Now you just smell like a suburban sofa.”
    â€œThat will have to do,” I say, as the rest of the staff rolls in.
    Erica is up first, so that I can try to defuse some of her hostility. She wants approval for the media package she has prepared on a major donation to our new cancer center, and although we aren’t doing the official announcement until next week, she has worked herself into quite a frenzy. She wants to start calling reporters to secure their attendance and insists on finalizing the media package today. I’m not in the mood to tell her that the reporters won’t commit to coming this early, and even if they do, they’ll blow it off the second a bigger story comes in, and that sending the media package too early is almost a guarantee of having it forgotten by next week, so I take ten minutes and lavish praise on what is, in fact, a fairly mediocre effort. And then I ask Albert and Jacob, our fund-raising writers, to present their draft of the Family Care Center proposal, and I gush to them about how inspiring and incredible it is, and who could fail to be moved to give thirty million to build it; I certainly would if I had cash on hand. And for good measure, I tell them how impressed I am with the Annual Fund thank-you letters, which in my opinion raise the bar for stewardship communications in our sector. This is the cornerstone of my management strategy: douse myresentment with heaping mounds of guilt and then alleviate the guilt by showering employees with unwarranted praise. By the end of the meeting, Erica, Albert, and Jacob are positively glowing, while Geoff looks amused. I ask him to stay behind.
    â€œToo much?” I ask.
    He laughs. “I doubt they noticed. Erica’s a total narcissist, so I’m sure she took it at face value. And Albert and Jacob are in awe of you, so they were probably touched.”
    â€œExcellent,” I say. “That should tide them over for a couple of days, then. Now, on to more important matters. Any word on the Gala?”
    â€œYou still on your BlackBerry diet?” I nod. “Then you have a lot of e-mail traffic to catch up on. But no decisions, not even close. The committee is spinning off in a million different directions. You and Justine are going to have to rein them in, but I think Justine’s taken a powder on this one. I was trying to track her down yesterday, but she was keeping a low profile. I’d guess she doesn’t have any bright ideas.”
    â€œPerfect,” I say. “Did I mention that this is totally not my job?” Geoff smiles sympathetically. “All right, bright ideas are on us. Janelle and the girls like the songs of the eighties, so let’s start there. Category is song titles that can carry off a broader theme.”
    â€œSpringsteen, ‘Dancing in the Dark,’” Geoff starts.
    â€œSimple, basic, a good backup,” I say. “Bryan Adams, ‘Summer of ’69’?”
    â€œToo confusing. Is it an eighties theme or a sixties theme? What are the ladies going to wear? Certainly not shapeless flowing frocks with love beads.”
    â€œGood point,” I say. “‘Everybody Have Fun Tonight’?”
    â€œWang Chung? That song was really awful, even back then,” says Geoff. “‘Like a Virgin’?”
    Now I’m laughing. “Not an appropriate theme for this group of ladies, Geoff. And while we’re at it, let’s avoid ‘Bizarre Love Triangle.’”
    â€œTough crowd,” says Geoff. “I’ll come back to it. My