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Chapter 7: The PowerPoint Meltdown
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2025-06-21 03:02:32Three days had passed since the team-building chaos, and somehow, the office still smelled faintly of burnt marshmallows and glitter glue.
Katherine Brown stood in the elevator, flipping through her notes with one hand and holding a violently purple coffee thermos in the other. Her heels clicked confidently as she stepped into the sleek top floor, her energy loud enough to jolt even the laziest intern awake. “Morning, Miss Brown,” mumbled a junior analyst as she passed. He was still wearing one of the unicorn stickers she had handed out for “motivation.” “Morning, Steve,” she chirped back. “Or is it Nate? No matter. You're doing amazing, sweetie.” She strutted into the open-plan bullpen like she owned the place. People smiled, people waved. The finance department had never felt this... alive. Her presentation for the quarterly creative pitch was scheduled in fifteen minutes. It was the first one she’d lead solo. And Katherine? Katherine was ready. Until she wasn’t. --- The glass conference room gleamed, minimalist and severe — much like the man seated at the head of the table. Sebastian Mason didn’t say a word when she entered. He didn’t need to. The mere twitch of his eyebrow said enough. Katherine ignored it. “Good morning, everyone!” she beamed, connecting her laptop to the massive screen. “I hope you're all caffeinated, because we're about to get shaken and stirred.” A few nervous chuckles. A deeper sigh from Sebastian. She pressed a button. The first slide — bold, magenta, animated — popped up. “Let’s talk strategy,” she began, walking to the front. “But make it fashion.” Some heads tilted. Others blinked. Sebastian adjusted his cufflink, unimpressed. Slide two. Slide three. Her rhythm flowed — voice playful but smart, her metaphors bordering on ridiculous but surprisingly effective. The creative team seemed intrigued. Even Sebastian, though statuesque, wasn’t scribbling in red pen like usual. Then... it happened. The screen blinked. Flickered. Froze. Katherine paused, blinking. “Okay... one sec.” She clicked. Nothing. The screen glitched — then, to her horror, jumped several slides ahead to the mock ad concept — a highly experimental campaign featuring animated dollar bills twerking to a techno beat. Gasps. Silence. A muffled laugh from the back. “Oh. That was... not the right slide.” Her voice cracked just slightly. She fumbled with the remote. The screen went black. Her laptop restarted itself with an ominous chime. Sebastian’s fingers folded together. “Is there a backup plan, Miss Brown?” “I mean—yes! Of course. Totally.” There wasn’t. Panic itched behind her ribs. She turned back to the room, now tensely silent, her heart thudding like a badly timed drum solo. “We don’t need slides to have vision, right? I mean... Edison didn’t have PowerPoint.” A painful pause. “...And look where that got him,” someone mumbled. Katherine forced a smile. “Okay. Pivoting. Freestyle presentation, here we go.” But her brain? Blank. She launched into a verbal explanation, trying to recreate charts from memory. But the charm that once carried her faltered under pressure. Her jokes fell flat. Her timing — off. Her voice — just a little too high-pitched. Sebastian watched, silent. Still. Not cruel — but not saving her either. Then came the worst part. “I—I had this slide, actually,” she stammered, reaching for her bag, her voice trembling now. “It showed the—um—ROI potential in a... in a more engaging—” A thick folder dropped from her tote bag onto the floor. Pages scattered like confetti across the glass tiles. Bright sticky notes, doodles of dancing piggy banks, and at least one page that simply read “SLAY THIS METRIC 🔥” in bold sharpie. She froze. Time did too. And then she heard it — the low, almost inaudible sound of Sebastian Mason... exhaling. Not sighing. Not groaning. Just breathing out. A signal. A break. “Let’s take five,” he said calmly, standing. The team scrambled gratefully. Only Katherine stayed rooted. When the room emptied, Sebastian stepped forward. “I assume this wasn’t the version you rehearsed.” She looked up, cheeks burning. “It was supposed to be brilliant. Bold. Disruptive.” “It was disruptive.” “Not in a good way,” she muttered. Silence stretched. He stood over her papers, then crouched — yes, actually crouched — and began gathering them. She stared. “Are you... helping me?” “Don’t make it a headline.” Their hands brushed. She quickly looked away. “It was a strong start,” he said, almost grudgingly. “Your strategy wasn’t wrong. It was just... suffocated by chaos.” “I live in chaos,” she replied, half-laughing. “I make it wear glitter.” He handed her the folder, then added, “And sometimes, glitter blinds the boardroom.” Their eyes met. No sparks. No music. But something shifted — a pause in their constant collision. He stood. Straightened his tie. “Reschedule your presentation. You get one more shot.” She swallowed hard. “Why?” “You’re still the only one here who made Jenkins laugh last week,” he said dryly, then walked out. She stared at the door as it closed behind him. Well, well, Mister Mason. Maybe you’re not made of stone after all. ---
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