It happened early the next day.
“Yoroizuka. Can I speak with you?”
It was just after eleven when Kojima approached Nagi with that line. Instead of his usual tyrannical tone, he sounded formal, which struck her as odd. She followed him into the meeting space, where they sat down across from each other. After a pause, Kojima began speaking.
“We received a call from Yummy Foods just now.”
Nagi could tell from Kojima’s solemn demeanor and serious expression that this was not going to be a happy conversation. She nodded and said, “I see,” but she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“It’s about the e-commerce site you’re developing for them. They want to add a number of functions. I’ve written them down here.”
Nagi took the paper Kojima was holding out and looked it over.
“There’s…a lot here,” she said glumly. It wasn’t at all unusual for a client to request additions midproject. If the changes were minor, her company often accommodated them without extra charges. But what Yummy Foods was currently asking for could not be called “minor” by any stretch of the imagination. If Nagi’s company accepted the request, the deadline would inevitably have to be pushed back. Plus, if Nagi was right, the price tag would have to be increased significantly. She wondered if they would agree to pay without a fuss.
“Can you tell the client that if we implement these changes, we need to extend the deadline by about two weeks? I’ll get right to work on a quote for the additional work.”
“I want you to do the work within the existing budget and timeline.”
Nagi’s mind froze at Kojima’s unexpected reply.
“…What?”
“They begged me. Said their budget was tight. I said yes, so now it’s up to you.”
Nagi felt dizzy. How many times had this happened? Kojima would give in to whatever the client wanted, saying he had to show the company’s best face, and then Nagi and the other systems engineers and programmers would be forced into an insane schedule. No matter how often she tried to explain to him that their programmers would die from overwork at this rate, he wouldn’t listen.
“Please hear me out. We can be flexible within reason, but this is just too much work. And with no change to the schedule…it’s impossible.”
The same guy who had spouted off to her about “internal costs” thought it was okay to make idiotic promises to the client like this? It was obvious that if they did this much work for free, they would be way in the red. And on top of that, they were supposed to meet the original deadline? Did he think Nagi and her coworkers were a band of super hackers or something?
“I need you to do this. Help me save face here,” he said.
Not much of a face to save, Nagi thought as she stared, dumbfounded, at his insincere expression. Catching herself, she gathered her thoughts. Saotome and Saiga would be pulled into this mess along with her. No matter what, she had to be the breakwater protecting them.
“Saotome already has a full plate working on another project, and Saiga was just hired, so I can’t subject him to excessive overtime. Please, let’s just talk to the client one more time about the deadline. If you’d like, I can speak with them directly.”
“Not possible. Whatever it takes, I need you to use Saotome and Saiga to get this project done. Your job is to finish it, even if it means working overtime or sleeping less.”
Everything about what he had just said was so offensive, she wasn’t even sure which words pushed her over the edge. She could handle him belittling her. But now he had gone and denigrated the junior team members she valued so much. She had done him the favor of keeping her temper this long, but now her patience snapped like a twig.
“I beg your pardon.”
Respect your elders? To hell with that!
“If you’re saying my job is to build systems even if it means working overtime or sleeping less, then isn’t your job in the sales department to keep client expectations reasonable? Any pushover can swallow whatever outrageous requests the client serves up!”
After she finished this tirade, a painful silence descended upon the meeting space.
Had she said too much?
When she came to her senses, Kojima’s demonic face was hovering in front of her.
“Is that how you talk to your seniors, you ingrate?!” he screamed, pounding the table. “Who do you think gets you work?! I’m the one who pays your meal ticket! If it weren’t for me, idiots like you wouldn’t have a job!”
Nagi wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, “That’s bullshit!” For one, another member of the sales team had secured the Yummy Foods contract. Kojima had only ended up in charge of the project because the person who got the job was too busy, and Kojima wasn’t. Otherwise, he’d still be sitting at his desk twiddling his thumbs and doing who knows what—definitely not bringing in jobs. That’s what she would have shouted if she were alone anyway.
“…”
But that was out of the question. Calm down! she desperately told herself. It was obvious that if she answered back, she would only get into a pointless argument. She swallowed the rage surging inside her and muttered in a low voice, “I understand. I will speak with the department head about increasing the fee. As for the deadline…I’ll see what I can do.”
She most definitely did not think she could make the deadline, but there was nothing else to say. Probably because she was so furious, her dizziness had evolved into a headache. As she grimaced at the stabbing pain, Kojima turned back arrogantly and said, “Anyway, you don’t need to worry.” Apparently, her concession had assuaged his anger with surprising ease. “I’m going to help with the programming,” he added.
“What?”
Nagi had heard that Kojima worked as a programmer before he was transferred to Sales. But that was long before Nagi was hired, which meant he likely hadn’t done any programming for over ten years. And if her memory was correct, he’d been reassigned because he was so horrible at his previous job.
“Can’t wait to get back to it after all these years. You can rest assured with the project in my hands. I was one of the better programmers we had,” he said confidently. But Nagi couldn’t shake the anxiety rising in her chest.
After that, life became hell. Kojima claimed to be helping, but they were still shorthanded on programmers. This forced Nagi to work on the additional requests while also serving as systems engineer. Naturally, the worst happened: They soon fell behind schedule, and Kojima got angry about the poor progress and forced Saotome and Saiga to work overtime. Nagi apologized profusely to them, but Saotome said she was happy to take on the extra load for Yoroizuka’s sake. For his part, all Saiga said was “Is that so? Fine.” Nagi was convinced her relationship with him was now beyond repair, but for better or worse, she was soon so swamped with work she didn’t have time to worry about it.
Every day, Nagi, Saotome, and Saiga worked until the middle of the night. Meanwhile, the all-important Kojima traipsed home at the regular time, making Nagi sick with worry over whether he was actually completing his part of the project. But since every time she asked how things were coming, he brushed her off by saying “Who do you think I am?” Nagi quickly gave up and only assigned him the minimum work possible. The three of them (Kojima excluded) fought through exhaustion and sleepiness, and by the deadline, their goal was somehow in sight.
“Saiga, do you think you’ll be able to finish the master data…?” Nagi asked.
“Yes… As far as I can tell from my review, I haven’t missed anything…”
“Thank you…”
In a corner of the hushed floor, Nagi, Saotome, and Saiga were busy working on the final adjustments. It was ten at night. Maybe because it was Friday and everyone was out on the town, the office was abandoned. Nagi had only cut it this close once or twice since starting her job, but thanks to Saotome and Saiga, it looked like they were going to deliver the project by midnight. As soon as they turned it in, Nagi was planning to go have a drink, which she hadn’t done in weeks. Heck, she was going to buy an expensive wine and drink it all in one day. That was her sole wish as her hands flew almost automatically over her keyboard.
Suddenly, she heard an ominous cry.
“…What?! I can’t believe this!”
It was Saotome, who had been conducting a final check.
“Ms. Yoroizuka! The common processing code I wrote, I noticed it was behaving strangely, so I checked it, and it’s been replaced by some weird new code…”
“Huh? What do you mean?!”
“I looked at the log, and for some reason, several days ago Mr. Kojima seems to have gone in and rewritten everything…”
“No way… Can I see?”
As Nagi took the mouse from Saotome and began checking the code, she felt herself grow faint. She had no idea why he’d done it, but it looked like Kojima had changed Saotome’s processing code without permission. Worst of all, he’d somehow zeroed in on the places with the greatest impact on the entire system. Systems are extremely delicate, and if even one of tens of thousands of pieces of code is wrong, totally unforeseen bugs can pop up. Given that code is written by humans, however, errors are inevitable. That’s why so many tests have to be performed—to kill the bugs. Even with limited time, Nagi’s team had frantically tested their work to ensure its quality. But thanks to Kojima’s “help,” they now had to rewrite this section. Then, as an added bonus, they had to retest it.
“We’re not going to make the deadline, are we…?” Saotome said. Her face was pale, and she looked on the verge of tears. Nagi guessed she had more or less the same expression herself.
“…Let me call the client.”