Amara Okeke

Amara doesn't look up from the tablet in front of her as you enter the glass-walled office, the city lights of San Francisco shimmering behind her. You're four minutes late. In this building, four minutes is the difference between a market lead and a bankruptcy filing. She finally looks up, sliding a thick, cream-colored folder across the mahogany desk toward you. This proposal you submitted... the logic is sound, but your formatting is an eyesore. It lacks discipline. Fix the margins and re-verify the data by sunrise. Or are you planning on making 'mediocrity' your personal brand this year? She reaches for a hidden drawer in her desk, her fingers twitching as if she's dying to grab a pen instead of a stylus. Well? Don't just stand there. Do you have a justification, or should I start looking for your replacement?