you, you’ll have your own queue, and you’ll be inundated for the next two hours,
till lunch. You ready?”
Mae felt she was. “I am.”
“Are you sure? Okay then.”
He activated her account, gave her a mock-salute, and left. The chute opened, and
in the first twelve minutes, she answered four requests, her score at 96. She was
sweating heavily, but the rush was electric.
A message from Jared appeared on her second screen.
Great so far! Let’s see if we can get that up to 97 soon
.
I will!
she wrote.
And send follow-ups to the sub-100s
.
Okay
, she wrote.
She sent out seven follow-ups, and three customers adjusted their scores to 100. She
answered another ten questions by 11:45. Now her aggregate was 98.
Another message appeared on her second screen, this one from Dan.
Fantastic work, Mae! How you feeling?
Mae was astonished. A team leader who checked in with you, and so kindly, on the first
day?
Fine. Thanks!
she wrote back, and brought up the next customer request.
Another message from Jared appeared below the first.
Anything I can do? Questions I can answer?
No thanks!
she wrote.
I’m all set for now. Thanks, Jared!
She returned to the first screen. Another message from Jared popped up on the second.
Remember that I can only help if you tell me how
.
Thanks again!
she wrote.
By lunch she had answered thirty-six requests and her score was at 97.
A message from Jared came through.
Well done! Let’s follow up on any remaining sub-100s
.
Will do
, she answered, and sent out the follow-ups to those she hadn’t already handled. She
brought a few 98s to 100 and then saw a message from Dan:
Great work, Mae!
Seconds later, a second-screen message, this one from Annie, appeared below Dan’s:
Dan says you’re kicking ass. That’s my girl!
And then a message told her she’d been mentioned on Zing. She clicked over to read
it. It was written by Annie.
Newbie Mae is kicking ass!
She’d sent it out to the rest of the Circle campus—10,041 people.
The zing was forwarded 322 times and there were 187 follow-up comments. They appeared
on her second screen in an ever-lengthening thread. Mae didn’t have time to read them
all, but she scrolled quickly through, and the validation felt good. At the end of
the day, Mae’s score was 98. Congratulatory messages arrived from Jared and Dan and
Annie. A series of zings followed, announcing and celebrating what Annie called
the highest score of any CE newb ever of all time suck it
.
By her first Friday Mae had served 436 customers and had memorized the boilerplates.
Nothing surprised her anymore, though the variation in customers and their businesses
was dizzying. The Circle was everywhere, and though she’d known this for years, intuitively,hearing from these people, the businesses counting on the Circle to get the word out
about their products, to track their digital impact, to know who was buying their
wares and when—it became real on a very different level. Mae now had customer contacts
in Clinton, Louisiana, and Putney, Vermont; in Marmaris, Turkey and Melbourne and
Glasgow and Kyoto. Invariably they were polite in their queries—the legacy of TruYou—and
gracious in their ratings.
By midmorning that Friday, her aggregate for the week was at 97, and the affirmations
were coming from everyone in the Circle. The work was demanding, and the flow did
not stop, but it varied just enough, and the validation was frequent enough, that
she settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Just as she was about to take another request, a text came through her phone. It was
Annie:
Eat with me, fool
.
They sat on a low hill, two salads between them, the sun making intermittent appearances
behind slow-moving clouds. Mae and Annie watched a trio of young men, pale and dressed
like engineers, attempting to throw a football.
“So you’re already a star. I feel like a proud mama.”
Mae shook her head. “I’m not at all. I have
till lunch. You ready?”
Mae felt she was. “I am.”
“Are you sure? Okay then.”
He activated her account, gave her a mock-salute, and left. The chute opened, and
in the first twelve minutes, she answered four requests, her score at 96. She was
sweating heavily, but the rush was electric.
A message from Jared appeared on her second screen.
Great so far! Let’s see if we can get that up to 97 soon
.
I will!
she wrote.
And send follow-ups to the sub-100s
.
Okay
, she wrote.
She sent out seven follow-ups, and three customers adjusted their scores to 100. She
answered another ten questions by 11:45. Now her aggregate was 98.
Another message appeared on her second screen, this one from Dan.
Fantastic work, Mae! How you feeling?
Mae was astonished. A team leader who checked in with you, and so kindly, on the first
day?
Fine. Thanks!
she wrote back, and brought up the next customer request.
Another message from Jared appeared below the first.
Anything I can do? Questions I can answer?
No thanks!
she wrote.
I’m all set for now. Thanks, Jared!
She returned to the first screen. Another message from Jared popped up on the second.
Remember that I can only help if you tell me how
.
Thanks again!
she wrote.
By lunch she had answered thirty-six requests and her score was at 97.
A message from Jared came through.
Well done! Let’s follow up on any remaining sub-100s
.
Will do
, she answered, and sent out the follow-ups to those she hadn’t already handled. She
brought a few 98s to 100 and then saw a message from Dan:
Great work, Mae!
Seconds later, a second-screen message, this one from Annie, appeared below Dan’s:
Dan says you’re kicking ass. That’s my girl!
And then a message told her she’d been mentioned on Zing. She clicked over to read
it. It was written by Annie.
Newbie Mae is kicking ass!
She’d sent it out to the rest of the Circle campus—10,041 people.
The zing was forwarded 322 times and there were 187 follow-up comments. They appeared
on her second screen in an ever-lengthening thread. Mae didn’t have time to read them
all, but she scrolled quickly through, and the validation felt good. At the end of
the day, Mae’s score was 98. Congratulatory messages arrived from Jared and Dan and
Annie. A series of zings followed, announcing and celebrating what Annie called
the highest score of any CE newb ever of all time suck it
.
By her first Friday Mae had served 436 customers and had memorized the boilerplates.
Nothing surprised her anymore, though the variation in customers and their businesses
was dizzying. The Circle was everywhere, and though she’d known this for years, intuitively,hearing from these people, the businesses counting on the Circle to get the word out
about their products, to track their digital impact, to know who was buying their
wares and when—it became real on a very different level. Mae now had customer contacts
in Clinton, Louisiana, and Putney, Vermont; in Marmaris, Turkey and Melbourne and
Glasgow and Kyoto. Invariably they were polite in their queries—the legacy of TruYou—and
gracious in their ratings.
By midmorning that Friday, her aggregate for the week was at 97, and the affirmations
were coming from everyone in the Circle. The work was demanding, and the flow did
not stop, but it varied just enough, and the validation was frequent enough, that
she settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Just as she was about to take another request, a text came through her phone. It was
Annie:
Eat with me, fool
.
They sat on a low hill, two salads between them, the sun making intermittent appearances
behind slow-moving clouds. Mae and Annie watched a trio of young men, pale and dressed
like engineers, attempting to throw a football.
“So you’re already a star. I feel like a proud mama.”
Mae shook her head. “I’m not at all. I have
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