Katie said, or even what she did, that made me uneasy about the dynamic between those two young women. On the face of it, Katie was happy and gracious, smiling without gloating as she marked up her sales leads on the whiteboard. There was no arrogance in her. She was calm and collected, dedicated without being obsessive. In truth, the girl had it nailed. But I couldn’t shake it. That something. That gut instinct that says there’s trouble brewing in paradise.
Strangely enough, the animosity that bristled my senses didn’t seem to be coming from Verity’s direction. I’d coach her for long afternoons, as promised during her back office meltdown, and she barely even gave her sister a second glance.
But of course she wouldn’t. Verity had a much bigger game plan. She was all out to get better, to prove her worth. Her grit had been tested and found lacking, and she’d come back with steel in her gut for round two.
Verity Faverley fucking nailed round two.
She soaked in everything, every little piece of advice, every scrap of feedback. She took sales materials home at night, and be all the wiser for it next morning.
She impressed me in a way I’d have never expected. Brat comes good. Who’d have ever thought it?
Seemingly not Katie. She refused to acknowledge Verity’s existence, certainly not as a contender. Not on the face of it.
Katie and Ryan topped the sales leaderboard with ease over the first few weeks. They’d finish up ahead of everyone else without breaking a sweat, every day without fail. Sometimes Katie would take the day, sometimes Ryan, but their relationship was full of easy camaraderie, content in the knowledge that they were the two to watch. They were smashing targets, producing sales leads that were progressing into real opportunities for the field based teams. They were developing a solid pipeline, networking with the right people in the right target organisations. They were good. Really fucking good.
They made me so proud.
But so did Verity. Her steely resolve as she learned the trade from the ground up. She wasn’t a firework, one of those bright burners that shoot across the sky. She was a submarine, cruising under the surface, unnoticed until she was in the right position. Then, BAM, one day she hit her zone. She made her calls with confidence, armed with product knowledge that would have put most field reps to shame. She asked the right questions, with a framework to understand the answers. She hit the phone, making those calls steadily, without blips or slumps, and she started bringing those leads in.
What Verity Faverley lacked in natural communication skills she made up for in effort.
She crept up through the ranks, a couple of leads at first, the odd one here or there which morphed into a clockwork performance of one a day. Then more. She consumed data, ate through calling records on her quest to hit the top echelons, and one day, as we reached the middle of the telemarketing phase of the internship programme, she was hot on the Katie-Ryan superteam’s tail.
Once she had their tail, they couldn’t shake her off. However many leads they generated, she was always right there. She’d clock one up on the board for almost every one they did, and once she had the bug it possessed her, consumed her.
She was in early every morning, picking up the phone to catch those targets unavailable in office hours. She was working through lunch, to the point I’d have to turf her from her seat to make sure the girl was eating properly. She was staying late to listen through her call recordings.
“She’s doing well, your sister,” I said to Katie in the car one night. “Really well. She’s really put the work in.”
All I got was a shrug. “Good for her.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“I really think I couldn’t care less how the bitch is doing. And she’s not my sister, Carl, she’s made that perfectly clear.”
I opted to push it. “Have you considered talking to her? Swapping some tips? Verity has her data management sales points nailed right on, she might have some useful info you can use in the big pharma vertical.”
And that’s when I knew for sure. It was the look in Katie’s eyes when she shot me a glare. It lasted no longer than a second, a momentary slip of her guard that revealed the powerhouse of resentment burning behind the scenes.