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energysearch · 9 months

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Choosing the Right Energy Executive Search Firm: Key Criteria to Consider

Original Source: https://energysearchassociates.blogspot.com/2023/09/choosing-right-energy-executive-search.html

Selecting the right energy executive search firm is a critical decision for companies operating in the dynamic and ever-evolving energy sector. Energy Search Associates understands the importance of finding the perfect fit between executives and organizations in this industry. In this comprehensive guide, we will discuss the essential criteria that companies should consider when choosing an energy executive search firm. Our goal is to help you make an informed decision and find the ideal partner to meet your executive talent needs.

Industry Expertise

The energy sector is multifaceted, comprising various segments such as oil and gas, renewable energy, utilities, and more. When selecting an executive search firm, it is crucial to evaluate their industry expertise. Consider the following:

Specialization: Does the search firm specialize in energy-related executive placements? Specialization often translates to a deeper understanding of industry nuances, trends, and challenges.

Track Record: Review the firm's track record of successful placements in the energy sector. Do they have a history of matching top-tier executives with reputable energy companies?

Industry Networks: An effective energy executive search firm should have extensive industry networks and connections, which can significantly expedite the executive search process.

Comprehensive Candidate Assessment

The search firm's ability to thoroughly assess and vet potential candidates is paramount. Look for firms that:

Conduct In-Depth Interviews: A reputable search firm should conduct rigorous interviews to assess candidates' qualifications, experience, cultural fit, and alignment with your organization's values.

Reference Checks: Verify that the firm performs thorough reference checks to ensure candidates' credibility and integrity.

Skill Evaluation: Evaluate the firm's capacity to assess candidates' technical and leadership skills, which are vital in the energy sector.

Global Reach

Energy companies often operate on a global scale, requiring executives with diverse experiences and backgrounds. A search firm with a global reach can help you access a wider pool of talent. Consider:

International Presence: Does the firm have offices or partnerships in key global energy hubs? An international presence can help in identifying talent from various regions.

Multilingual Capabilities: In a global context, multilingual search consultants can be invaluable when communicating with candidates from different linguistic backgrounds.

Cross-Cultural Competence: Ensure the firm's consultants possess cross-cultural competence to navigate the nuances of international executive placements.

Customized Search Approach

Every energy company is unique, and so are its executive talent requirements. A one-size-fits-all approach doesn't work in executive search. Seek a firm that offers a tailored search strategy:

Needs Assessment: The firm should invest time in understanding your organization's culture, values, and specific executive needs.

Customized Search Plans: Look for firms that develop customized search plans aligned with your company's goals and industry demands.

Flexible Engagement Models: Evaluate whether the firm offers flexible engagement models that adapt to your changing executive search needs.

Transparency and Communication

Clear and open communication is vital throughout the executive search process. Assess the firm's communication practices:

Reporting and Updates: Ensure the firm provides regular updates on the status of the search, including progress, challenges, and potential candidates.

Transparency on Fees: Understand the firm's fee structure and ensure transparency in all financial matters related to the executive search.

Accessibility: Consider the accessibility of the firm's consultants and their willingness to address your queries and concerns promptly.

Succession Planning Expertise

Succession planning is a critical aspect of talent management in the energy sector. A competent executive search firm should have the expertise to assist in succession planning by:

Identifying Future Leaders: The firm should have the ability to identify and groom potential future leaders within your organization.

Transition Planning: Expertise in creating smooth executive transitions and ensuring continuity in leadership positions.

Long-term Relationship: Look for a firm that views its relationship with your organization as a long-term partnership, assisting with ongoing talent development.

Data-Driven Insights

In today's data-centric world, executive search should not rely solely on intuition. Seek a search firm that uses data-driven insights to enhance the quality of their placements:

Analytics and Metrics: Does the firm use data analytics to evaluate candidate performance and predict success in specific roles?

Market Intelligence: A good firm should provide you with valuable market intelligence, helping you stay competitive in attracting top talent.

Benchmarking: Look for firms that can benchmark your organization's executive talent against industry standards.

Commitment to Diversity and Inclusion

Diversity and inclusion are increasingly crucial in the energy sector. Ensure that the search firm shares your commitment to promoting diversity and inclusion:

Diverse Candidate Pool: Evaluate the firm's ability to present a diverse range of candidates for each executive search.

Inclusive Practices: Seek firms that employ inclusive hiring practices to attract a wide range of talent.

Diversity Metrics: Does the firm track and report on diversity metrics in its executive placements?

Client References and Testimonials

One of the best ways to gauge the effectiveness of an executive search firm is by speaking with their past and current clients. Consider:

References: Request client references to gain insights into their experience working with the firm.

Testimonials: Read testimonials and case studies on the firm's website to understand their success stories.

Industry Reputation: Research the firm's reputation within the energy sector and assess its standing among competitors.

Flexibility in Candidate Profiles

The energy sector is continually evolving, and your executive talent needs may change accordingly. Choose a search firm that can adapt to evolving profiles:

Scalability: Can the firm scale its search efforts up or down as your needs change?

Cross-Functional Expertise: Evaluate whether the firm can handle searches for executives in various roles within the energy sector.

Emerging Skills: Look for a firm that can identify and attract executives with emerging skills and expertise in the industry.

Conclusion

Choosing the right energy executive search firm is a pivotal decision that can significantly impact your organization's success. Energy Search Associates is dedicated to helping energy companies find the executive talent they need to thrive in a competitive and dynamic industry. By considering the criteria discussed in this guide, you can make an informed choice and partner with a search firm that aligns with your organization's values and goals.

Our commitment to industry expertise, customized search approaches, global reach, and a data-driven approach makes us a trusted partner for energy companies seeking top-tier executive talent. Contact Energy Search Associates today to discuss your executive search needs and discover how we can help you achieve your talent acquisition goals in the energy sector.

#Energy Executive Search Firm #Energy Industry Recruiter #Oil And Gas Executive Search Firm

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zooophagous · 1 year

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So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

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thatbadadvice · 4 months

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Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!

Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:

I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me. I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to. (I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.) The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss. She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview. A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger. I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else. I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea. What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?

Sir,

You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.

Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.

But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it. I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.

#advice #bad advice #ask a manager #workplace #workplace advice #linkedin #bosses #working #developers #coding #fedoras #men #misogyny #workplace misogyny #hiring #job searching #employment

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buckets-and-trees · 11 months

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Devour: FAT

Fandom: MCU Title: Fat (Devour, part two) Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2k Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You’ve risen through the ranks, and now hold the mantle of executive chef at Devour - a restaurant now owned by the infamous James Buchanan Barnes. He's just as relentless as you, and he's used to always getting exactly what he wants.

Content Warnings: smut (vaginal fingering), some strong language, mildly dark possessive behaviors

Additional Notes: Sequel to Salt (part one of the Devour series). Filling my tenth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - U5 "Kink: Lingerie" and circling back to hit week 6 of Hot Bucky Summer for the prompt "How do you want me?"

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“What’s that look?” you narrowed your eyes as Stanley’s approached. As Devour’s Maître d’ Stanley was regularly in and out of the kitchen on any given night, but it was the air of intent that had you questioning him.

“Mr. Barnes is dining with us tonight. Just arrived.”

“Right, everyone, the big boss is dining tonight!” your sous chef Charlie called out to the rest of the kitchen.

There was an immediate flare of sound and activity over the announcement, and so you threw your pan down onto the counter.

“Everyone stop – right now. Stop.”

The whole staff turned their attention to you.

You didn’t raise you voice but made sure you spoke clearly. “I will say this one time: if you cook better tonight than you have every other night because Bucky Barnes is here, you better keep that fucking level every minute you stay in my kitchen from here on or else don’t come back tomorrow.” You let your eyes quickly rove over all of them.

You don’t doubt this staff, you’ve worked with them for years – inherited some of them from your predecessor and recruited some of them yourself – and helmed them without questioning their loyalty since taking over the past week. But you’ve made it clear with this statement, letting them know this is the final test of the transition in your eyes.

“Understood?”

“Yes, Chef,” is the assent from everyone.

“Back to it then.”

Stanley raised an eyebrow as everyone got back to work. “You good?”

You nodded. “It’s not his kitchen, it’s mine.”

To his credit, Stanley didn’t push you any further on the matter and took you at your word.

An hour later, the Maître d’ returned. “Mr. Barnes said, ‘my compliments to the chef,’ on his way out.”

You tilted your head to the side and frowned. “’My compliments to the chef?’ That’s it?”

Stanley waved his hand in a vague gesture that indicates that’s the extent of it.

“And he left?”

“In and out smoothly from our new owner is all I want to see,” Stanley said before returning to the front of the house.

Bastard.

You worked to ignore the disappointment that took over the anxious heat that had been simmering in your core knowing he’d finally come back. It had been exactly a week since your debut as the new Executive Chef, meaning it had also been a week since mob boss James Buchanan Barnes came in, dined, bought the place, tripled your salary, and took you apart in this empty kitchen.

You excused yourself, needing to take a walk out back to work off the pent-up energy. Once out in the cooler night air, your hand worked under the shoulder of your chef’s coat to fidget with the strap of your bra. Then you huffed at doing that because it’s now one more thing that reminded you of him.

It had also been a week with an early morning delivery every day of a simple white box wrapped in a silk ribbon, and a set of under garments resting in a bed of tissue paper and two cards – one indicating it’s La Perla lingerie (a quick Google search confirming it was some of the most expensive intimate wear in the world, an Italian line that used only the finest European silks and lace), the other with a hand-written –JBB on it to let you know exactly who it was from. It was more than a little bold to send you something like that, but when you touched the soft, luxurious material with your fingers, you sighed, thinking it would be a shame to waste something so fine. You had tried it on, just to see.

It was maddeningly also the perfect fit.

You rationalized that if he was going to send it, who were you to deny yourself something so nice just because it was a bit audacious? Let him waste his money sending you these gifts.

Today’s set was black silk and tulle. You hated how wonderful it was.

The ticket for his table that night had been dinner for two with a bottle of wine.

You hated that, too.

He returned two nights later. The order brought back by his waiter this time was to “surprise” him. Another table for two, another bottle of wine. You sent the evening’s special.

Fifteen minutes after the plates went out, so did you.

Hell if James Barnes thought he’d dine and disappear again. (It hadn’t been a dine and dash the last time – he dined for free now as the owner, but he the staff couldn’t help remarking on the more than generous tip he still left.)

Again, in one of the more private table alcoves, you knew you were approaching his table with a bit of steam pouring from your ears, but you were not going to be deterred and wanted to strike while your resolve was strong.

Steve was his dining companion tonight, and as he saw you coming, he shot you a very small smile, excused himself from the table, and gestured for you to take his spot across from the mob boss.

“Good evening,” James said, voice low, eyes hinting at a bit of mirth.

“You buy my restaurant, take me in the kitchen, drop off the grid for a week, return to dine with a woman and leave without even a word, then show up here again tonight, and think you can get off without seeing me this time?”

He smiled. “Do you want to know who she is?”

Your mouth snapped shut. You hadn’t wanted to divulge that you knew he’d been here dining only with that woman, whoever she was, or that you cared that he’d been dining with a woman. Except a little of you also did want him to know you didn’t want to be one of a string of conquests.

He slid out of his side of the booth and came around and moved in next to you. “Interesting choice of words there, too: ‘get off.’”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. His eyes were dark with lust now, a smirk on his face, and the air felt suddenly thick around you.

“And she was my sister, by the way.”

“Oh.”

“But you should care. I like that.”

He moved even closer to you and placed his hand on your thigh, just above your knee. He brushed a finger along the side of your neck, and you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Now you said, it’s your restaurant.” His lips moved just to the shell of your ear. “Don’t forget it’s mine, Chef.” His tongue darted out to lick the curve there.

Half a whimper escaped your lips as your breath hitched.

He chuckled in your ear then pressed a kiss to your temple. He lifted his hand from your leg, and reached to the middle of the table where he dipped his finger into the dish of soft herbed French butter, then wiped it over your bottom lip. “This was delicious,” he started. You licked what he’d left on your lips, and you watched him lick the remainder of the butter off his own finger.

“But I bet you’ve got something even more delicious for me.”

You knew exactly what he was going to do, but maybe it was the intensity of his eyes locked with yours that made you remain still, practically holding your breath as his hand moved to the waistband of your pants and inside, going directly for the wetness he was creating between your legs. You shifted, body reacting to allow him more access even though your face burned with the heat of panic, not at all comfortable at the thought that anyone could see what was happening, but also desperate for him to give you the pleasure he was dangling in front of you.

“I remember the taste of your skin, and now I will get my taste of this.”

A full whimper fell from your lips this time, and you closed your eyes as his fingers circled your clit. His other hand came to rest at the nape of your neck as he planted his lips at your ear again.

“How do you want me? I bet you’ve been thinking about it.”

You gasped as he stroked up and down your labia and then slipped his fingers inside your cunt.

“Do you want me pushing these thighs open with my face buried between your legs, eating you out until you cry from it being too much for your over-sensitive clit? Splitting you open with my cock, you caged in beneath me while I fuck you into a mattress? Pressed up against a wall while I fuck you from behind? Have you thought about sitting in my lap and riding me?”

Your head fell forward, eyes closed, and you tried desperately to concentrate on your breathing and controlling the sounds you were trying to keep at by while he worked diligently to bring you towards ecstasy. Every word he said was making it all the more difficult, and you clutched at the edge of the table.

His other hand moved from caressing your neck to slip under the edge of your collar, pulling the shirt back enough for him to hook his fingers under the silky band of your bra. “Wearing what I got you.”

You reached up to grab his wrist and pull that hand away. He didn’t fight it, but he did grab your chin and tilt your face up to his for a fierce, hungry kiss. He bit at your lip, and his tongue coaxed and demanded entry to your mouth. He curled his fingers up against your pelvic wall, finding the sensitive spot there, and your lips immediately parted on a true keen over the sensation he stoked in your core. He swallowed up the noise in his mouth. His tongue stroked yours as expertly as his fingers stroked your heated channel, and within only a few more moments, your whole body seized up and then shuddered in the peak of the orgasm he demanded from you there at the table.

His kiss and his fingers both brought you down softly but quickly, and then he pulled you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin and rubbing small circles at the small of your back as your breathing returned to normal. When he removed his fingers from your cunt, he brought them to his lips, and made a low hum as he tasted your essence on his tongue.

“James,” you rasped.

“Delicious,” he whispered. “Mine.”

“Oh god.”

He snickered. “Nowhere close, you know that.”

You straightened your shirt and adjusted your trousers while he kept his broad torso sideways, and your glad he was so big he truly did afford you a modicum of privacy through the whole episode due to his size.

He pushed out of the booth, then took your hand and helped you out as well. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you put your fingers up to stop him. His brow furrowed.

“If I’m yours, I need more than this.”

He cocked his head just a fraction, his expression unreadable, but you saw a glimmer in his devastatingly blue eyes. “More it is, then.”

He pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand then sent you on your way. Steve passed you as he returned to the table and you to the kitchen, giving you a nod.

When you arrived home that night after your shift, something seemed different in your apartment, but you couldn’t put your finger on it immediately. You dropped your clothes into the laundry hamper, then jumped in the shower to wash the kitchen smell off you before bed. It was when you made your way to your closet, wrapped in a towel, that you noticed exactly what it was – you weren’t a slob, but everything was now extremely tidy.

Opening your drawer to get some panties, you audibly gasped.

A drawer cleared of all your old underwear, almost overflowing with new lingerie, and a card with the word ‘enjoy’ and his initials told you everything you needed to know.

He was an audacious bastard.

And when you looked at your phone as you crawled into bed, you had a goodnight text from an unknown number that undoubtedly had to be his. You frowned and did not respond.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Link to part three: ACID

#aspen wrote something #devour au #mob boss!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #female reader

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six-eyed-samurai · 3 months

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AGAIN AND AGAIN - A REINCARNATION AU

Help, what have I done? Sorry if this doesn't fit the characters, I was writing it sleep deprived and as neutral as possible. Support me and my poetry (that I came up with in the shower)

Heavens blessed me with you

The Knight, who when your parents announced you would marry you off to some elderly Lord, kept true to his word and took you away, escaping into the clashing colors of freedom and love in another kingdom far, far away, only for your world to darken into black and white once more when your enraged parents caught up and had him executed; it was now your turn to keep your side of the oath and join him in the afterlife when you drank the poisoned chalice.

In every rebirth

The Roman General who passed by you, lashing out any "potential buyer" when he walked disgusted through the slave market - he bought you freedom and yet somehow you stayed with him forever willingly cuffed by shackles of affection...until he died of an assassination and you were hung for having an "affair" with someone of higher class, but not before you both screamed to whatever god that would listen to come back to each other once more.

I promise I'll find you

The Baker who's never cared a penny about the other air headed girls from his small British village until you, a young noble lady recently moved into the old Baskerville Manor, turned up requesting his help in setting a banquet. Excuses after excuses pile up from both sides in an attempt to extend your brief time together but soon, oh, too soon, you leave as per your family's orders and he's left to wonder how you're doing now, because after years and years of searching they refused to let him in.

Through tears, death, dreams and mirth

The White American who finds you working day in day out at the laundry lady's for little to no pay, so from his not so small tips grew to slipping love letters through the pockets of his clothes, but soon you're fired and bade to leave for your skin colour and he's still bitterly cursing the townspeople for their blind racism.

And I know it's just a gamble

The Hockey player who grins at you who always shows up to his games in every match until he asks you out on an ice skating date, but alas, how could he have known that the day you finally showed up in his jersey, much to his delight, would be the day a crazed fan clubbed you on the head with his own hockey stick, much to your doom? He left the industry as cold as the rink.

Unfair, repeated roll of dice

The F1 Racer who whines about the most ridiculous problems happening to his car and making bad impressions of the other drivers just to see his beloved mechanic even crack a smile - no oil or dirt stained on you could ever dim that brilliant smile when you both went on a joyride together into the sunset...oh, wait, his death on the track did.

But in this temporary, fleeting

The Roommate who knows exactly what you want for breakfast every morning, and soon it spiraled into having a meal together for lunch and dinner too, especially when he added candles and rose petals! You still make your coffee the same way he did even after your studies took you abroad and both of you decided it was for the best to break up.

Moment in fast ending time

The Landlord who did NOT expect such a cute little you to move on when he decided to make a little cash on the side renting out his spare room...never mind, it's still on rent because now you've moved into his room. He managed to save your photo album from the charred remains of your house though...although he couldn't save you.

Tell me, oh tell me

The Drug dealer who just recently entered your big brother's gang, who protected you with his scrawny body every time any sexually frustrated asshole came to harass you. Your declarations of love didn't come in heartfelt words or gifts but a smoked joint with each other. You both didn't get delusional, because why should you when your fantasies were right in front? It was the same when you overdosed after someone ratted him out and sent him to a life sentence in prison.

Darling love of mine

The Mafioso who charms you with his suave words and cool under fire attitude, causing you to giggle and kick your feet whenever he came back to your door with flirtations and blood on his face from those who disrespected the mob boss's goddaughter. It was the classic romantic Italian dinner when he got down one one knee...except for the part when his rivals arrived to gun him down and you're left staring at his broken body and shattered ring.

You're just as lost

The Neighbour who had no idea the babysitter for the kids next door would be so goddamned FINE - if only he hadn't fumbled and stumbled over his words in the elevator! But that's alright, even little Ray and Katie are rooting for him and you! Your first date might not be fancy, but he was more starstruck in awe of you than he was of the night sky as you sat on top of the roof.

In paradise

"I feel like I've know you all my life."

"In every lifetime?"

"Maybe!"

And somewhere deep inside, you both knew it for certain: the endless cycles of pain were finally broken.

"I'm so glad of whatever karma that I did in my previous life got me to meet you!"

"You better continue it in this life so I can see you in the next one!"

Not karma, actually, but a series of broken promises finally repaired.

***

Sukuna, Giyuu, Kokushibo, Gojo, Takemitchy, Mikey, Ranpo, Nikolai, Kirishima, Hawks, Kakashi, Nishinoya, Kuroo, Toji, Kazutora, Nanami, Eren Yeager, Gyutaro, Kunikida, Zuko, Yuta, Inumaki, Levi, your favourites!

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

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Vice surrenders

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in LA with Adam Conover at Vroman's, then on MONDAY in Seattle with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

Vice died the way it lived: being suckered in by smarter predators, even as it trained its own predatory instincts on those more credulous than its own supremely gullible leadership. RIP, we hardly knew ye.

For those of you who don't know, Vice was a Canadian media success story. It was founded by a motley clique of hipsters, one of whom – founder of the Proud Boys – has since grown to be one of the world's great fascism influencers. Another perfected the art of getting young people to work "for exposure" even as he built a massive, highly lucrative media empire on their free labor:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/vice-oral-history/

Eventually, Vice transitioned to a string of progressively worsening corporate owners, each more dishonest, predatory – and gullible – than the last. The company was one of the most enthusiastic marks for Facebook's infamous "pivot to video" – in which Mark Zuckerberg destroyed half the media industry by tricking them into thinking that the public was clamoring for video content, based on fraudulent viewing numbers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pivot_to_video

Vice went all-in on video, spending hundreds of millions to finance Zuckerberg's doomed attempt to conquer Youtube. But unlike other the rubes who got zucked, Vice found greater fools to scam, convincing giant, slow-moving meidia companies that the best way to get in on the Next Big Thing was to shower them with vast sums of string-free money:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viceland_(Canadian_TV_channel)

And yet, at every turn, through a succession of increasingly incompetent owners who bought the stumbling, declining Vice at fire-sale prices and then proceeded to hack away at the wages and tools its journalists depended on while paying executives salaries so high that they beggared the imagination, Vice's reporters continued to turn out stellar material.

This went on literally until the last moment. The memorial posted by 404 Media rounds up a selection of major stories Vice's beleaguered, precarious writers produced even as Vice's vulture capitalist leadership were pulling the rug out from under them:

https://www.404media.co/behind-the-blog-vices-legacy-and-the-idea-that-the-internet-is-forever/

True to form, those private equity scumbags locked all those workers out of the company's CMS without notice – and then forgot to lock down the podcasting back-end. That allowed a group of Vice veterans – Matthew Gault, Emily Lipstein, Anna Merlan, Tim Marchman and Mack Lamoureux – to gather for a totally unauthorized, tell-all session that they pushed out on an official Vice channel:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKT4OtDEJRA

It's a hell of a listen. Not only do these Vice veterans have lots of fascinating history to recount, but they also describe the conditions under which those blockbuster stories of Vice's final days were produced. As the "visionary leaders" of the company paid themselves millions, they halted payments to key suppliers, from Lexisnexis to the interview transcription service the writers depended on. Writers paid out of pocket to search PACER court records.

Not only did Vice's reporters do incredible work under terrible and worsening circumstances, but the Vice writers who got out ahead of the total collapse are also doing incredible work. 404 Media is a writer-owned investigative news publisher founded by four Vice escapees – Samantha Cole, Jason Koebler, Emanuel Maiberg and Joseph Cox, which is both producing incredible work and sustaining the writers who founded it:

https://www.404media.co/

All of which leads to an inescapable conclusion: whatever problems Vice had, they didn't include "writers don't do productive work" and also didn't include "that work isn't economically viable*. Whatever problems Vice had, they weren't problems with Vice's workers – it was a problem with Vice's bosses.

Which makes Vice's final, ignominious punishment at the hands of those bosses even more brutal, stupid and inexcusable. According to the leaked memos emanating from the company's investors and their millionaire C-suite toadies, the business's new strategy is abandoning their website in order to publish on social media.

This is…I mean, this,..

This is…

Wow.

I mean, wow.

The thing is, the social media business model is a giant rug-pull. They're not even bothering to hide their playbook anymore. For social media, the game is to encourage media companies to become reliant on third parties to reach their audiences. Once that reliance is established, the companies turn down – or even halt – the ability of those media companies to reach their audience altogether. Then, they charge the media companies to reach their audiences:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Now, this wasn't always quite so obvious. Back when Vice was falling for Facebook's "pivot to video," it wasn't completely obvious that the long con was to take your audience hostage and ransom them back to you. But deliberately organizing your business to be reliant on social media barons today? It's like trusting your money to Sam Bankman-Fried…in 2024.

If there was ever a moment when the obvious, catastrophic, imminent risk of trusting Big Tech intermediaries to sit between you and your customers or audience, it was now. This is not the moment to be "social first." This is the moment for POSSE (Post Own Site, Share Everywhere), a strategy that sees social media as a strategy for bringing readers to channels that you control:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/19/now-we-are-two/#two-much-posse

Predicting that a social media platform will rug the media companies that depend on it today doesn't take a Sun Tzu – as cunning strategies go, the hamfisted tactics of FB, Twitter and Tiktok make gambits like "Lucy and the football" look like von Clausewitz.

The most bonkers part of this strategy is that it's coming from private equity bosses, who laud themselves as the great strategists of the 21st century, whose claim on so much of our global capital and resources is derived from their brilliant insight, which allows them to buy "distressed assets" like Vice, "restructure" them to find "efficiencies" and sell them on.

The reality is that PE goons – like other financiers – are basically herding animals. Everyone's hit on the tactic of buying up beloved media companies – from the 150-year-old Popular Science to modern publications like CNet – and then filling them with spammy garbage in the hopes that Google will fail to notice and continue to award them pride-of-place on search results pages:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

The fact that these billionaire brain-geniuses can't figure out how to "turn around" a site whose workers a) produce brilliant, popular, successful work; and b) depart to found successful firms that commercialize that work tells you everything about their ability to spot "a good business opportunity."

PE – like other mafiosi – only have one business-plan, the "bust out," where you invade a business that produces useful things, force them to pay your chosen suppliers sky-high fees for things they don't need, extract massive fees for your "management" and then walk away from the collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/24/anti-posse/#when-you-absolutely-positively-dont-give-a-solitary-single-fuck

#pluralistic #vice #motherboard #posse #apps #enshittification #media #chumboxes #botshit #bust outs #news bailouts

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vantedgesearch23 · 1 month

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The Role of Technology in Industrial Executive Search: Innovations and Impact

Technology has fundamentally changed the way industrial executive search is conducted, infusing the process with precision, speed, and a more profound strategic alignment. The infusion of advanced technologies like artificial intelligence, machine learning, and data analytics has not only streamlined the identification and vetting of candidates but also enriched the quality of matches between executives and organizations.

Artificial intelligence (AI) plays a pivotal role by automating the search for potential candidates, sifting through large data sets to find matches based on experience, skills, and potential cultural fit. This use of AI reduces reliance on traditional, sometimes subjective decision-making processes, ensuring a more objective approach to candidate selection. Furthermore, AI can help predict candidate success in specific roles, enhancing the long-term effectiveness of recruitment efforts.

Machine learning algorithms refine these processes over time, learning from each search to improve future outcomes. They analyze past hiring success and modify the search parameters to better identify candidates who are likely to succeed in a company’s specific context. This adaptive approach is crucial in industries where the requirements and challenges evolve rapidly.

Big data analytics also significantly contributes by enabling firms to analyze trends and patterns across the employment landscape. This analysis helps predict industry shifts, identify skills in high demand, and understand deeper nuances in leadership roles that are critical to driving business success in various sectors.

Vantedge Search integrates these technological innovations into its services to ensure robust and forward-thinking recruitment strategies. By employing a mix of traditional techniques and cutting-edge technologies, the firm effectively meets the dynamic needs of industries ranging from technology to healthcare. Their emphasis on diversity also helps in building leadership teams that can bring varied perspectives to tackle complex business challenges.

Beyond technology, the approach to executive search is increasingly becoming consultative and strategic. Modern search firms do not just fill positions but work closely with clients to understand their long-term strategic goals and how a leadership role fits into them. This consultative approach ensures that the leaders placed are not only capable of fulfilling their current roles but are also equipped to steer the company through future challenges.

Vantedge Search exemplifies this strategic approach by not just placing leaders but ensuring they are a catalyst for transformation and long-term success within their organizations. The firm’s commitment to long-term partnerships with its clients is reflective of a broader industry trend where search firms are seen as crucial strategic advisors, not just service providers.

In conclusion, the role of technology in industrial executive search has transcended the mere automation of processes. It has transformed executive search into a strategic element of business planning, essential for navigating the complexities of the modern industrial landscape. As this field continues to evolve, technology will play an even larger role, driving the future of how leaders are discovered, evaluated, and integrated into organizations, shaping not just businesses but entire industries.

#industrial recruitment #industrial executive search #industrial headhunters

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agustdakasuga · 1 year

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The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 5

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning: Incident of stalking and the topic/ threat of potential suicide is brought up.

The rest of the weekend was, thankfully, less eventful for you. You could catch up on much needed sleep and finish a ton of university work, even advance assignments that weren’t taught yet. Now you were in front of your computer, looking at university majors.

“Just pick a major, (y/n). Why are you having such a hard time?!” You scolded yourself. The ‘narrowed’ list you made was far from small, there were still too many options to choose from.

‘Bangtan Enterprise & Exchange’

You found yourself typing out on the search engine. Many articles popped up, all singing different praises and words of adoration for the organisation.

“Charity funding... Sponsorships... Donations...” You briefly read through the some of the articles that listed what your father did. There he was, a picture of your dad, standing in the middle of the 7 men that you now know about.

“Acquainted with government officials and the president. Good relations all around.” You read outloud.

Considering how well known your father was, you were surprised you had never noticed his name in the news before to connect the dots that this man was your father. There was little said about the 7 though, only that they are your father’s ‘protogés’ or ‘apprentices’, trained to take over the company after your father retires as the head.

‘Park Jimin will be representing Bangtan Enterprise & Exchange in the high stakes charity poker game. There will be many other figureheads in attendance. Winnings will go to the winner’s charity of choice.’

“Wow, they are everywhere.” Your eyes widened. The company had a stake and connection in every industry. You did so much reading, you hadn’t realised that it was dinner time.

“What should I eat?” In the end, you ordered food for pick up at a nearby restaurant since they didn’t do delivery.

“Here you go. Enjoy your food and stay safe!” The old lady gave you the plastic bag of containers. With a grateful smile and a bow, you took the food and left to go home. It was Sunday night and you really didn’t want to be out of the house.

Jimin hummed as he straightened up, twirling his keys around his fingers. He poked his head out of the alley before he emerged. He adjusted his hair and straightened his suit jacket.

“How long more are you going to check your appearance?” Hoseok drove over, stopping his car right in front of Jimin, one arm perched on the door while the other stayed on the steering wheel. Jimin rolled his eyes but walked over, sitting in the passenger seat.

“You got it?” Hoseok asked.

“Did you seriously just ask me if I got it? Of course I got it.” Jimin waved the access card in front of Hoseok’s face. Hoseok snatched it, tucking it into the back pocket of his pants.

“Now where’s my stuff?” Jimin held his hands out like a child waiting for candy. The older reached into the back seat and tossed him something.

“Thank you~” Jimin grinned triumphantly. Unlike the others, Jimin was the first one to try Hoseok’s new shipment of weapons through this deal. He looked at the new pistol with modifications made and designed by Namjoon.

“This new silencer is supposed to be better and not affect the accuracy as much. Namjoon and his team tested it for ages.” Hoseok said.

“Well, he can use it after me.” Jimin smirked, pretending to aim the gun in front of him.

RINGGGGGG

“Taehyung, why are you calling? We’re on the way home.” Hoseok asked as he drove. Jimin threw in a greeting as well.

“Hyung!! You need to go help (y/n) right now! She called me all panicked, saying that she was being followed and then her phone died! She was coming from (restaurant name) so she should be along that path!”

“Okay, Taehyung! I’ll keep you updated.” Hoseok said and hung up. He stepped on the accelerator immediately, lurching the car forward in the direction of where you lived. Jimin pursed his lips, opting not to say anything and just follow along. It wasn’t his car anyway. Hoseok used the voice navigation to find where the restaurant was.

“How are we going to know where she is exactly?” Jimin asked.

“There aren’t too many streets, it’s one path. You wanted a reason to use your new gun, right?” Hoseok stopped the car. Jimin followed alongside Hoseok as they looked for you.

“(y/n)?!” Hoseok yelled out. Jimin heard footsteps and hushed Hoseok. He leaned into an alleyway and found a masked person with a cap walking around.

“What are you looking for?” Jimin pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of the person’s head. The unknown person visibly froze in his tracks, putting his hands up. Hoseok ran forward and found you hiding.

“(y/n)...” He looked at your traumatised, scared form. You had your knees drawn to your chest.

“H-Help.” You whimpered.

“I’ve got it, hyung. Call it... target practice. I’ll come home later.” Jimin sighed. Hoseok nodded, putting his jacket over your shoulders. He put his arms under you and hoisted you up.

“I’ll see you at home. Let’s go, (y/n).” Hoseok whispered. You tucked your head against his chest and Hoseok could feel you shaking in fear in his arms. He placed you in his car but was unsure of whether he should be taking you home or back to the boys’ house.

“(y/n), listen to me. You’re safe now. That person won’t find you, they won’t come after you. They can’t hurt you.” Hoseok spoke. You nodded your head slowly, not really processing what he was really saying.

“Do you want to go to your own home? Either way, I will stay with you to make sure you are not alone.” Hoseok promised.

“Please take me somewhere safe.” You requested.

“Okay.” Hoseok made the decision to take you to their home. You would definitely be safe and protected there with all of them home. He had informed the others of the arrangement.

“We’re here.” He pulled up in the driveway. You were so far gone that you didn’t notice the scale of the estate. It was a huge mansion.

With his arm around you, Hoseok slowly guided you into the house. He tossed his keys to the valet to park for him. The others had gotten the maids ready to welcome you to the house. But they stayed away to not overwhelm you further. The maids were all kind, receiving you gently and moving you up to the guest room. You just followed their lead quietly.

“How is she?” Namjoon asked.

“Scared, traumatised. I don’t know, I just removed her from the situation. Jimin is handling the guy.” Hoseok informed, falling back onto the lounge chair with a long sigh. Yoongi handed him a glass of whiskey.

“Chim is just... gonna kill the guy. We won’t know why she was targeted in the first place.” Jin folded his arms.

“We probably know the reason why. Word spreads faster underground than above ground. This is going to be the first of many.” Jungkook rolled his eyes as he drank his beer.

“Is it that serious? So quickly?” Taehyung scratched his head.

“Come on, Tae. We have been in this world forever. People die faster than you can snap your fingers.” Yoongi said.

“Anyway, let’s keep things to a minimum now that she is here, alright? We will talk about this in the morning.” Namjoon stopped the conversation. This was too much for him, all of a sudden, to be able to process. As everyone split up, Hoseok slipped into Jin’s cave.

“Jimin got it?” Jin knew who it was without having to turn around. His fingers danced across his keyboard as he typed away.

“It’s Jimin. Of course, he got it. It’s all his effort, I was just the getaway. You’re lucky I had something to incentivise him to do the job so quickly.” Hoseok clicked his tongue as he waved the access card that Jimin obtained.

“Here.” He tossed it onto the table.

“Thanks, Hoseok. I knew I could count on Jimin... and you, I guess.” Jin said with a chuckle.

“No problem. But wait, hyung. You can hack anything, why do you need this specific access card? Looks like you can get into the system just like that.” Hoseok asked as he peeked at Jin’s screen.

“Well, in this case, the person is smart. I can crack this system easily but the creator has put a tracker on everything. Better to go in through the old fashion way, avoid suspicion.” Jin shrugged, reaching over to take a sip of his plum wine. Seeing as to how Hoseok was just snooping, Jin chased him out and locked the door behind him.

“Here. We have some clothes for you to wear comfortably.” One of the maids handed you a set of clothing. It was a pair of home shorts and a really oversized white shirt.

“T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Young master Hoseok said that you didn’t get to your dinner so we are bringing up a tray of hot food for you now.” She informed. You nodded your head and went to change in the bathroom.

“Have some tea in the mean time. It will help calm you down.” She handed you the mug. You took it with both hands.

“Thank you... Sorry, that has never happened to me so I guess I’m quite shaken.” You forced a smile. She shook his head, patting your back.

“Young miss. Here is your food. Please enjoy.” Another maid came in carrying a tray. She placed the tray on the small table and you sat down. The spread was luxurious.

“Don’t worry, young miss. You are safe here.”

“Do you want us to stay with you?” She offered. You shook your head with a grateful smile. With a deep bow, they retreated out of the room. You wrapped your arms around yourself. After your mum died, there was no one to hug and comfort you like she did.

Your brain was a mess, trying to find a reason as to why you would have been followed. You kept to yourself, never really interacting or making friends easily. The person could just be trying to rob you or steal your dinner.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You replied. Taehyung poked his head in before walking in.

“Hey, (y/n). Are you doing okay?” Taehyung asked. You nodded your head. His eyes trailed to your tray. Your cutlery was still tucked into the napkin, a sign that you hadn’t touched your food.

“It must have been scary. But don’t worry, the guy isn’t going to bother you anymore.” Taehyung assured.

“I was worried he might follow me and know where I live, that’s why I agreed to be brought here. But the police was able to get him?” You tilted your head, relief in your voice. Taehyung nodded his head.

“Jimin handed him over to the cops after he was apprehended.” He lied.

“Thank you. Sorry for imposing and making you guys go all the way to help me when I’ve been nothing but stand offish and unfriendly.” You lowered your head. Taehyung softened slightly, looking at you. It wasn’t your fault, it was no one’s fault. He knew you couldn’t help it, it was the only way you could protect yourself when you’re alone.

“Don’t think about that now. You’ll be safe here, (y/n). I promise. You should just rest here for the night and I’ll take you home in the morning.” Taehyung said.

“Alright. Thank you again, Taehyung sshi.”

“Stop thanking us. Goodnight.” He got up and left the room. You sighed, mentally grateful for the fact that he didn’t force you to stay, even offering to take you home in the morning.

Jimin yawned as he entered the house, smoke escaping his mouth as he exhaled. He removed his blood stained sweater and tossed it onto the ground.

“Is it settled?”

“Yoongi hyung, surprised to see you awake. And yes, it is settled. It was one guy, easily handled.” Jimin greeted with a nod of his head. Yoongi hummed, swirling his drink in his glass. Jimin walked over, leaning against the bar.

“So do I get a prize for saving the damsel?” Jimin smirked. Yoongi scoffed at how Jimin treated this like a game.

“You don’t like her, do you?”

“Whether I like her or not doesn’t matter now, does it?” The younger asked back, going to pour rum into a fresh crystal glass then proceeding to take a long sip.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you were able to take it out on the poor guy. If you don’t like her then don’t cross paths with her. She’s in the first guest room. Namjoon’s going to have us talk to her tomorrow but I’ll get you out of it.” Yoongi offered.

“Nah, I’m not a coward.” Jimin declined. He refilled Yoongi’s glass with more whiskey before refilling his own.

“You’re going to have to learn to work with her sooner or later. We all know she’s a walking target board and as frustrating and burdensome as it is, she’s our Achilles heel.” Yoongi pointed out.

“Goodnight, hyung.” Jimin left the bar area first.

When you woke up the next morning, you laid in bed for a while before loitering around the room. You were not sure what you were supposed to do, have you woken up too early or too late compared to the others that lived in the house?

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You dove back under the covers. It was the same maid from the night before. She poked her head in before bowing.

“Good morning, agashi. When you are ready, young master Namjoon has called for you to join them for breakfast. I have some clothes here for you.” She held the folded clothes in her hands. You nodded your head and got up to go brush your teeth. When you came out, the curtains had been drawn, the uneaten food cleared and the bed was made.

“I will be outside to take you to the dining room after you’ve changed. Please take your time.” She put her hands together and bowed again then retreated out of the room.

“Alright then.” You changed into the short sleeve white button up blouse and skirt that was prepared, simple but elegant in its own way.

“I’m ready. Thank you for waiting.” You came out, running your fingers through your hair once more.

“Right this way.” She gestured and started walking.

“This house is huge. Very easy to get lost without a guide.” You commented, looking at all the doors you walked past. The maid nodded in agreement with a giggle. You followed her down the grand staircase.

“The young masters that are awake are having their meal now.” The maid said, opening the french doors for you to enter the dining room.

“Good morning, (y/n).” Namjoon smiled.

“Good morning.” You bowed your head shyly and stepped in. The maid was behind you, closing the doors and leading you to your seat at the dining table. The butler pulled the chair out for you to sit down. You sat beside Namjoon, trying not to maintain eye contact with anyone at the table.

“A drink to start, agashi? We have tea, coffee, juices.” The butler offered.

“I’ll have a coffee, please. Umm... A cappuccino.” You ordered randomly. It wasn’t your more usual drink but you didn’t want to be an inconvenience. This was already all too much for you.

“I hope you slept well.” Taehyung smiled.

“I did... Thank you.” You spoke softly. The butler came and placed the breakfast tray in front of you.

“Thank you for the food.” You were still speaking softly, hoping that despite that, the butler could hear your gratefulness. You picked up your chopsticks and dug into the food. It was light and delicious, just what you needed.

The breakfast strangely felt normal. The boys chatted amongst themselves, normal chat, nothing really out of the normal. You guessed it was because they were still tired. You didn’t feel the right or need to participate in their chatter, focusing on the food on the tray in front of you. You wanted to just keep to yourself and avoid contact.

“(y/n), can we talk in the living room?” Taehyung requested when you were done with breakfast. You nodded your head, following behind them.

“Go wake Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok.” Jin ordered the butler. He nodded with a bow and retreated upstairs to the bedrooms. You twiddled your thumbs as you waited.

“Morning.” Hoseok yawned as he walked over. Jungkook and Jimin sleepily shuffled over.

“Thank you again for last night. Really.” You stood up to bow to Hoseok and Jimin. You still didn’t really know all their names but you still felt the need to express your gratitude. The two blinked, unsure of how to react.

“(y/n), unfortunately, we believe that you were targeted for a reason last night. We’re unsure of why but if someone is really after you, they’re not going to stop.” Namjoon explained.

“I’m in danger?”

“Luckily Hoseok and Jimin could get to you in time. But it’s serious and we want to make sure you’re safe.” He continued. You nodded your head.

“We’ve discussed as brothers... We don’t want to force you into anything. But we know that we need to get along with one another. The other roles and responsibilities, the future of all of this, we can think about that later. We just take it one step at a time.” Another spoke.

“Why is someone out to get me? I don’t know anything? This... All this isn’t me. I keep to myself, I don’t make enemies. Why is this happening?” You started to freak out.

“(y/n), calm down. Breathe. You’re going to have a panic attack.”

“I’ve always been alone, on my own. Everything I’ve done, it was only ever for my mother and myself.” You held your head.

“You don’t have to be alone and shoulder everything on your own anymore, (y/n).” Taehyung said.

“I only agreed to go to the funeral because I thought I was honouring a dead man’s wish. If I had known, by showing my face, that it was a trip to an early grave, I would have killed myself when my mother died.” You said.

“This would have happened sooner or later, (y/n). Whether you showed up at the funeral of not. I’m sorry, we know that this is a lot to take in at one time.” Jin spoke cautiously.

“I didn’t ask for this-”

“You think we asked for any of this? All we’ve been doing is chasing after you, having to coddle you, ‘adjust’ to you. While doing all that, did you think we’ve had the chance to mourn? No because it’s all about you and how this is unfair to you.” Jimin finally spoke, letting all his frustration pour out.

“Jimin. Leave, now.” Namjoon stood up, his voice grew serious as his ordered the younger male. Jimin rolled his eyes but stormed out of the living room. You pursed your lips.

“Please... I want to go home.” You begged.

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ronearoundblindly · 21 days

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Day Eighty-Three (1)

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

10 A.M., an It Had To Be You tale (see previous or series)

Summary: A joint meeting between AmCaps and the heads of four other major companies goes about as horribly as possible...or is it exactly as you expected? Either way, Steve messes up big time.

Warnings for (hi, I'm Ro) arguments, the absolute shittiness of misogyny, degrading use of petnames, language, social idjit!Steve (he honest-to-god tried his best but whoops). MINORS DNI. If this is not to your taste, please feel free to search lighter stories here. WC 2571

Sadly, the whole thing would have gone better if Tony Stark showed up.

Stark doesn’t do meetings like this though, and you may never bother with one again. You may have no need.

Clammy hands grip the leather spine of your monogrammed portfolio, comfortingly thick with the employee files you’ve brought as ammunition. This is a battle, no doubt in your mind, but Steve acts as if it’s any other day. To him, it probably is.

This is Steve’s fourteenth quarterly get-together of entities using the stabilizing, hydrostatic, insulated, electro-neutral, lead-dense (aka S.H.I.E.L.D) modules which American Capsules supplies. You’ve worked here for twelve of those but never been in the room.

The room feels as big as a concert hall with you an ant in the back pew.

Since the meeting is on your turf, you and Steve wait till the others arrive, your boyfriend highly aware of your nerves but without a clue as to why.

You’ve been preparing for this far longer than the not-quite three months you’ve held the title of co-CEO. It’s important to understand what is really happening between these companies and who exactly is to blame. It was also important to tell Steve nothing until you knew all the facts, and you didn’t until the phone call you just got off three minutes ago.

That’s not enough time. He’ll have to enjoy the show like everyone else,

Steve loosens his skinny black tie and repeats that you shouldn’t worry. He can take the lead. All the stats are printed in the binders laid in front of six chairs around the oblong table. He touches you, reassuringly he believes, at exactly the wrong moment.

Justin Hammer saunters through the door, clocking the intimate hand on your arm when Steve leans forward to whisper, “what’s wrong?” The outrageously pompous pumpkin sucks his teeth, winking at you, and spins to moonwalk closer. Hammer even goes so far as to cup your other elbow with an over-tanned palm.

“Peach, you’re gorgeous. Don’t ever change,” he flirts, damn well knowing that you aren’t the assistant anymore but are dating the man right beside him. “Hey, pal, how’s it going? Lookin’ sharp.”

Justin wheels the nearest chair away from the conference table and plunks down, lounging against the high-backed seat, swinging his feet up onto the adjacent chair. He may as well be at the beach.

He snaps, hand landing in a finger gun pointed at you—or your backside, more accurately, where he’s also staring.

“I like mine sweet and dark. Thanks. ‘Preciate you.”

There’s no elaboration. You’re just the coffee bitch to him.

What’s wrong, you want to tell Steve, what’s wrong is that asshole is only twenty-five percent of the shit I have to deal with this morning!

Before you or Steve can respond, however, the other three arrive in quick succession.

Darren Cross of Pym Technologies might actually be the least offensive of the bunch. His smile is polite and jovial, he greets Steve simply and shakes your hand, and he smacks Hammer’s calf hard enough to make a sound as he passes by.

He, unlike Justin, brought a briefcase, keeping up the illusion that he participates in the company he’s here to represent. Cross probably does still participate, considering he was only promoted recently after Hank Pym retired.

Aldrich Killian is undoubtedly (one of) the brains behind his think tank, AIM, and Brock Rumlow is undoubtedly smug, being a lowly former associate at Stark Industries, now an executive for the Roxxon Energy Corporation.

Each of them has skin in each other’s game; throughout the history of American Capsules’ products, innovations have been shared between them to either create suitable shipping containers or to have their products shipped via those containers. They’ve quite literally shielded their collective work.

It’s a symbiotic relationship.

It’s a circle jerk.

Killian and Rumlow do not bother to walk around and say hello. They fake niceties and unbutton their suit jackets to sit on the other side of the table.

Noticeably, none of them chose either ‘head’ of the table. No one was willing to take a position of power equal to Steve in his own house. Your boyfriend seems to interpret this as acquiescence of some sort—proof that they’ll blindly respect what and who Steve himself respects,—and then Steve wrongly decides to gently run his hand the rest of the way down your arm, his fingers curling to lift your limb until the very last second.

He made it look like you were reaching out for him, like you were a scared child in need of support. You are, in a sense, but he didn’t have to fucking advertise it to these men.

Steve doesn’t make mistakes. He did that on purpose. Maybe he meant to establish some sort of claim to you? To stop them objectifying you? Whatever they do now is solely out of respect or fear of him though, not you.

You’re frozen in place—in anger, truth be told—until Justin drops his feet to the floor dramatically.

“Indulge me, sweetcheeks.” He winks again. “I’m thirsty.”

Doing your very best Vanna White impression, you step back and sweep an arm out toward the drinks on the side server. “Help yourself,” you say with a smile.

It’s only because Justin is an idiot that he misses the dig.

Open to the page he wants, Steve tosses his binder to the wood surface, the slap of lamination to varnish attracting the attention of all the men, and takes his seat at the end.

You waltz to the other side, a clear and distinct separation between you and Steve, equals in life and work but opposites today.

“Shall we wait for Stark,” Rumlow growls in his low voice.

“Not necessary,” Steve allows. “If he shows, he shows. Let’s get to it.”

Steve begins, pointing out a few key concerns. Since you already know all of this, he doesn’t look to you while speaking, but neither do the other men when they respond.

They talk over you as if you’re not there, being blowhards and patting each other on the back for ’surviving in this economy.’ You let them go on. Steve gets nowhere. He gets excuses. He gets parroted promises.

Justin dismisses insufficient specs by saying he’s just a pretty face. He leaves all the numbers to nerds. He laughs about how he’ll have to check with his people about the nitty-gritty details, but he’s sure it’ll work out.

He stands to get his own black coffee, plopping three cubes of sugar in the chrome mug.

Rumlow barks out that shoddy Hammer tech nearly sank a Roxxon oil rig.

Justin feigns ignorance of the incident.

Killian uselessly offers a fix for that, at a price.

Darren argues that Pym has followed their agreement with AmCaps to the letter.

Everybody is fucking lying to themselves.

The shouting continues, escalating until it looks like Killian and Rumlow are close to throwing punches, though you’ve missed why those two are at odds.

Finally, Steve rises, stretching his hands out in peace.

“Everyone, calm down! Take a breath. Have some water. Sit.”

He’s stressed, clearly, defaulting to conditioned behavior which means Steve then looks right at you with a pleading expression.

Wrong again.

Darren lets out a huff and nods at you. “Yes, I think that would be nice.”

“I’ll take a glass,” Rumlow adds with a tap of the table in your direction.

Killian sighs an unmistakable ‘loser’ to Rumlow, and suddenly, the fight is back on.

Time to lock and load.

You cough and stand, flipping open the portfolio in front of you, adjusting your hips in your pencil skirt with a tug but only for affect. You know exactly what draws the attention of these men.

The room goes mostly quiet.

“Water. For the table,” you deadpan command Steve.

Picking up your copy of the report set, you clear your throat.

“I’m afraid Rogers has given you all the impression this is a negotiation. It’s not.” You slide the binder to the center. “It’s a courtesy. A courtesy which none of you deserve.”

“What the hell is she talking about?” Rumlow gruffly asks Steve.

“I’m talking about unpaid balances and unfulfilled orders. I’m talking about product tampering and verified illegal activity that hereby voids your contracts, effective immediately.”

Darren shoots out of his seat. “You can’t do that!” He turns to Steve. “She can’t do that, right?”

Steve, however, is blanched with shock. “Wait, I—“

“Each of your agreements with us—“ you barrel over his protest “—contains a morality clause which was broken by Hammer Tech when they conspired to produce a subpar protective lining and pad Roxxon gas sales in the region, unwittingly causing unsafe storage at a Stark factory in Galmira because the entire operation no longer followed American Capsules specifications—your specifications for transporting your own products.

“Pym,” you continue with force, “failed to produce compact enough items for the containers they ordered and instead chose to resell the regulated lining materials for a premium.” You toss a packet of papers down to Darren. “In your infinite wisdom, this also means you violated multiple Customs laws by forging shipping weights and ignoring safety guidelines.”

Killian puts a bejeweled hand over his vested heart. “Cross, you didn’t?”

“Which brings me to fucking AIM,” you grit.

“Precious,” Steve breaths with a warning tone, but you can’t stop. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Because who the hell do you think created the new formula for a light-weight, lower-cost, shitty lining?” You take such pleasure in stabbing a finger in his direction then flinging stapled proof across the table. “Evidence. Evidence of all of this provided by multiple sources. And you were warned…”

Now comes the really fun part.

You spread out eight folders.

“…warned by Roxxon’s own Betty Ross, Wanda Maximoff, and Kamala Khan. By Hammer’s Monica Rambeau and Kate Bishop. AIM’s doctors, Christine Palmer and Helen Cho, and finally, Pym Tech’s Mary Jane Watson—none of whom, I’m excited to say, work for you anymore.”

There’s a stunned heft to the frigidly controlled air in the large room. The florescent lights overhead buzz harshly.

“Are you fucking serious?” Killian rasps.

“Put your bitch back on her leash,” Rumlow bites to Steve.

“Don’t speak to her like—“

“Wait a minute,” Justin snorts, “I’m confused.”

“Your nerds will explain it to you once you crawl back into your hole.”

“Prec—” Steve snips in alarm but catches himself. He looks panicked and blind-sided, which he would be. You kept their complicity from him until you had everything you needed to invoke the morality clause.

You turn to the junior CEO for Pym Tech. “Expect a call from Hope Van Dyne. She has a few thoughts on Cross Technologies.”

Called out for his as-yet-unannounced rebranding of the company, Darren breaks, and he breaks viciously, vaulting the three chairs between you.

“Fucking cunt,” he screams through bared teeth.

Steve launches past the skittering seats and makes it to Cross milliseconds before he can intercept you.

“I didn’t make you lie, cheat, and steal,” you screech. “You screwed yourselves!”

Killian straightens his lapels and smooths his shirt nervously. “Surely, we can come to some arrangement.”

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Hammer adds.

Rumlow simply walks out with a shout of “you’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

Steve slams Cross into the window, an ominous rattle shaking the frame, the cheek of the struggling man whining as it smears along the glass. When Darren still tries to hiss something else at you, Steve pins him against the wall instead, a forearm choking off any other choice words the bald man might offer.

“This meeting is over,” Steve grunts, pushing at Cross until the man settles.

“Right,” you sigh, keeping your voice as level as you can. “Gentlemen, I’d say get your houses in order, but I’m afraid the furniture is about to be repoed.”

Killian runs his hand through his styled hair. “Think I’ll leave you to talk some sense into your precious partner. Good day.”

You’ll never forgive Steve for blurting your private nickname out in front of the worst possible people to know it, but this is how you chose to play the meeting. You knew there’d be…pushback.

The AIM founder takes a lazy sip. “Thanks for the water, Rogers.” He taps his pinky ring several times on the glass, a hollow, high ting lingering after each strike, and then Aldrich heads for the door.

Steve releases Darren despite the wild look in his eyes, but Cross would be a fool to make any move except to leave. He gathers his things and slips through the exit before it fully closes.

The only one remaining is Justin Hammer, and he tosses out his arms with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Kitten, come on. This is crazy. Isn’t this crazy? We’re all friends here. Let’s just chill, relax, and work this out. How ‘bout a drink?” More snaps. More finger guns. “You want coffee? Alright, perfect. Love ya. We’ll have coffee.” The man fidgets, sweat visible on his lip and forehead when he turns in the window’s light and approaches the drink cart.

“Sure thing, Justin. I take my coffee like I take my women—“ you smile “—from you.”

Okay, that part just felt good.

“That—” Hammer’s brow raises and he wipes down his jaw with one hand “—now that was uncalled for.”

Steve cuts in, a solid dismissal in the form of “I said ‘the meeting’s over.’”

“Oh, boy. You—well, you better watch…This ain’t over.” Hammer makes a fuss of buttoning his jacket again, puffing out his chest, then walking off even more empty-handed than he arrived.

The enormous, heavy door shuts slowly on buzzing, bright silence.

After a pause, Steve heaves out a breath.

“That went well.”

Sarcasm is not one of his strengths.

You’re not sure what you expected. You stand as a block of granite decor in the corner you retreated to once shit hit the fan.

It was the right decision. This was the right thing to do, the moral thing. It’s in the goddamn contract.

Though physically he shows no signs of duress—Steve used very little of his actual muscle to subdue Darren,—he hangs his head, stepping to your spot at the table to look at what you brought in. After a pause, Steve rubs his temple like it aches.

“I…I have no words,” he mutters, tone inscrutable.

You don’t care if he has words or not. You only have to wait until they’re out of the building.

“I don’t understand. What just happened?”

The door opens to reveal a bored-looking Topaz.

“Boss, Stark sent a catered lunch over. Where should they set up? It’s shawarma.”

“I don’t care,” Steve bursts. “Just take it down to R&D or something!”

That’s your cue to leave.

You shut your mostly-empty portfolio and tuck it to your chest.

A hand wraps around your wrist, unyielding.

Steve’s stormy blue eyes are felt more than seen, his hold tightening, trying to inch you closer, but you rip away.

“I’ll send you a memo,” you tell Steve without looking directly at him. “Keep those. I have copies.”

Fast as you can in heels and a skirt, you hurry after Topaz and past the food, fleeing first to your office and then to your own home.

[Day 83: 6pm]

[tender first aid drabble; Big Girls Don't Cry]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Ahhhhh! Next up is how Steve makes it up to you...or at least starts to...😱😵‍💫🥴

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