The following morning, the meeting room was filled with the usual suspects. I took a seat at the far end, the screen displaying the holiday card layout in crisp detail. As the meeting began, I found myself studying faces, looking for any hint of recognition or guilt. My supervisor cleared his throat, the room shifting in anticipation.
“We had a small issue with the card,” he began, eyes scanning the room. “It seems there was a mix-up with the names.” I watched as his gaze briefly met mine before shifting away. “We’ve identified the error and are working to correct it.”
“How did it happen?” I asked, my voice steady despite the anxiety buzzing beneath my skin. He hesitated, a rare occurrence that sent a ripple of unease across the room.
“It was a simple mistake,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “A miscommunication on the design team’s part.” The explanation felt incomplete, a bandage over a wound that needed stitches.
As the meeting continued, my mind wandered. Could it really be that simple? Or was there more beneath the surface? I resolved to find out, knowing that the answers wouldn’t come easily.
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