First Encounter

The rest of my weekend was relaxing and insignificant and Monday morning came quicker than I would have liked. I got to work early so that I could prepare for any issues I may have with our COTS go-live. It was the big day to move our accounting department to a system with more robust functionality.

As I sat at my desk, drank my daily cup of coffee, and answered emails, I found my mind drifting. Surprisingly, it wasn't about Jake. I thought about Matthew. I thought about our first encounter.

It was six years ago at a football party hosted by a mutual friend. I was sitting on the couch talking to my best friend, Dayna, when in walks this outgoing Adonis of a man. He made quite the entrance as he started to chant "Gators! Gators!" He was wearing a Florida Gators t-shirt to an LSU stomping ground. I thought to myself, "This dude has balls. I like him."

I took a swig from my glass of pinot then looked up and toward him. We made eye contact. I gave a smile then lowered my eyes and looked away. As soon as he wasn't looking, I turned to Dayna, grabbed her shirt in the fists of my hands and asked, "Who in the Hell is THAT?"

"THAT, my dear is MATT," she said with conviction.
"Ok, so what's his story? Tell me, tell me," I asked eagerly.
"Well, here's what I know..." Dayna leans in close to make sure our conversation is not overheard, and then lowers her voice to a whisper. "He's from Florida."
I roll my eyes and my shoulders go from an excited and tense position to a slump. "No shit!" I say sarcastically.
"Ok, ok. Well, he is from Florida. He's friends with Jeff and Dan. They all work together, so I'm pretty sure he's an engineer at their company. I really can't tell you whether he's available. I've only met him once before, yet here he is again without a date so maybe you're in luck."

I look over at him again and he's got the crowd's full attention. He's telling a story about a recent motorcycle incident or something. Everyone is completely engaged in what he's saying. I don't know what came over me, but suddenly I blurt from my place on the other side of the room, "So, you ride a motorcycle? What, like a Harley or something?"
Jeff tells him, "You're on your own with this one, man. She's a firecracker."
I give Jeff a snarling look and smile. Matt’s fans go back to their pretzels and beer and he walks toward me. "Motor cross, actually."
I nod and look interested. “So you got hurt?”
“Yeah I was busted up pretty badly. This is my first time out with my friends in three months.”
“Wow. So then that’s why you are the center of attention.” I say matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen anyone in a while and everyone wants to know the details.”
“Well, I’m Tristyn. I’m best-friends with Dayna. Jeff’s wife?”
“Matt," he answers and holds out his hand in a formal introduction.
“I know,” I say flirtatiously. “Well, maybe we can chat a little more later once the noise in this room settles down. Or possibly even go somewhere a little quieter.”

“Ms. Brousse? You have a call on line one,” my assistant buzzes in and startles me from my daydream. “I know you asked me to hold your calls, but it’s Patrick Morgan from ITS Consulting. He states it’s urgent.”
“Thanks, Sandi. You can transfer him.”
“Hello Patrick, how are you?”
“Tristyn, I’m fine. We have a problem. Data migration efforts were unsuccessful.”
“What do you mean they were unsuccessful? That was a part of our quality testing, Patrick. Everything should have been transitioned smoothly.”
“Users are reporting that iterations and history data is not being seen in the application. I had some of my guys run a validation check and it appears as though we lost 30,000 records on migration.”
“Ok, what does that mean for us today? What are our options?” I asked calmly although I was frantic. This was a multi-million dollar project and my ass was on the line if this wasn’t solved pronto.
“Let’s get together today so I can discuss where the problem happened and what we can do on our end to make it right. When can you meet?”
“I’m clearing my calendar. We need to meet right now. Can you be here in twenty minutes?”
“I’m on my way.”