Capítulo 16: saving a project
Sure enough, as soon as I finished sorting the files into neat, color-coded piles, the door creaked open. My parents, Helena and Gerald Lyselle, strode in like they'd just caught me curing cancer or something equally miraculous. I mean, all I'd done was alphabetize a few documents, but judging by their expressions, I might as well have performed a magic trick.
"Well, well, look at you, hard at work," my father, Gerald, said, beaming like a proud papa bear. He was looking at me like I hadn't spent the last couple of years being the family's biggest disappointment.
I forced a smile. "Just, you know, doing... stuff."
My mother, Helena, arched an eyebrow, glancing at the piles like they were a work of art. "Everything looks... perfectly in order. Honestly, Amara, I wasn't expecting this."
Was that a compliment or an insult? Knowing my mother, it was probably both. Either way, I didn't miss the shock in her voice. They clearly thought I was going to burn the office down or something. But nope, here I was, Queen of Filing.
"Thanks," I said, pretending this was no big deal. "It wasn't too hard."
[They're acting like you just split the atom,] the system snarked in my head. [These people really had zero faith in you, huh?]
"You don't say?" I muttered under my breath, glaring at nothing in particular. Not that they could hear the system, but it didn't stop me from wanting to flick it in its non-existent head sometimes.
Gerald, oblivious to my inner dialogue, nodded. "Good, good. We've got a meeting coming up soon. Something a bit more challenging than filing papers."
Oh, perfect. Just when I thought I could coast through the day on my low-stakes success, they were throwing me into a real situation. I felt the first pang of anxiety in my gut. "A meeting? About what?"
"We've got a situation with one of our media projects," Helena explained, folding her arms. "It's... underperforming. Badly. We need to figure out how to salvage it."
Right. Of course, nothing says "welcome to the corporate world" like dealing with a potential financial disaster. But hey, no pressure. I smiled and nodded, trying to look confident. "I can handle that."
[You? Handle a failing project? With what experience, exactly?] the system chimed in again, clearly amused. [I mean, I'm rooting for you, but this could be entertaining.]
"I'll be fine," I hissed at the system, making sure not to look like a crazy person talking to herself.
My father clapped me on the back, nearly knocking me over. "That's the spirit! Meeting's in ten. Be ready."
The boardroom was filled with people who looked like they'd just found out their entire business model was on fire. And honestly, they weren't far off. The energy was tense everyone darting their eyes toward me like I was some ticking time bomb, ready to blow up their careers.
You could practically hear their thoughts. Why is she here? Is this a joke? Oh God, we're doomed.
I sat down, trying not to look too awkward as I adjusted my seat. The project they were all sweating bullets over was a reality show. Great. Reality TV—the lowest hanging fruit in the entertainment world, and somehow, they still managed to screw it up.
The conversation was a mess. One guy suggested adding more influencers, another thought a new logo would magically fix everything, and some genius wanted to turn it into a dating show because nothing says "saving a project" like throwing in fake romance and awkward confessionals. It was like watching a group of clowns trying to put out a fire with confetti.
[These people are clueless,] the system whispered in my ear. [You're sitting in a room full of adults who are acting like toddlers with no supervision.]
"No kidding," I muttered, drumming my fingers on the table as I watched the circus unfold.
Gerald and Helena were sitting at the head of the table, looking more and more irritated with each passing second. It was clear they were expecting a miracle, but the people in this room were more likely to offer them a balloon animal.
[You could help, you know,] the system urged. [This is the perfect moment to use that shiny new Strategic Planning Skill of yours.]
"Yeah, right. What am I supposed to say?" I shot back in my head, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on me.
[Oh, I don't know… maybe stop them from turning the show into another dumpster fire?]
Before I could overthink it, I cleared my throat and, to my horror, everyone stopped talking and turned to me. Great. Now or never.
"I think we're missing the point here," I said, trying not to sound like I had no idea what I was talking about. "The problem isn't the influencers, or the format it's the audience."
Blank stares. Fantastic.
I pressed on. "People aren't watching reality TV for the fake drama anymore. They want authenticity. They're looking for something real, not more staged fights and scripted nonsense."
[There it is! Get 'em!] the system cheered.
"We should pivot," I continued, starting to feel a bit more confident. "Let the influencers be themselves. Don't script anything. Bring in creators who are relatable—not just for their follower count, but because their fans actually trust them. People are tired of the over-the-top theatrics. We need to focus on genuine, unscripted moments."
The silence that followed felt like it lasted a century. I could practically hear the gears turning in everyone's heads, processing what I just said.
Then, slowly, people began to nod. The guy who suggested the dating show scratched the back of his neck, suddenly realizing how idiotic his idea was.
My father leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed as if he was reassessing everything he thought he knew about me. "You know... she might be onto something."
Helena looked at me like I'd just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. "We've been so focused on creating drama, we didn't even consider that the audience might not want it."
[Well, well, look who's the genius now,] the system teased, sounding way too smug.
I tried to hide my smirk. "It's just... something I thought might work."
"You've done more than think, Amara. You've identified the core issue and offered a clear solution," my father said, almost too surprised for my liking.
But before I could celebrate my tiny victory, Helena spoke up again. "We'll need more details. How do you see us moving forward?"
I felt the familiar rush of panic. Details? I'd already given them my one good idea, and now they wanted more? Great.
[Time to level up, girl. Use that Strategic Planning Skill,] the system nudged.
Taking a deep breath, I let the skill do its thing. Suddenly, everything seemed clearer the next steps forming like a puzzle coming together.
"Well," I began, "we'll need to rebrand the show, obviously. That'll show the audience this is something fresh, not just the same old tired formula. We can also launch a marketing campaign that focuses on the authenticity angle. We highlight the unscripted moments, make people feel like they're seeing the real lives of these influencers."
The nodding was getting more enthusiastic now. People were scribbling down notes, and I could feel the shift in the room's energy. For the first time since I stepped in, I didn't feel like the corporate black sheep.
"And as for the influencers, we target smaller ones up-and-coming creators who have loyal fans. It's not about the size of their following; it's about engagement. These are the people their fans actually care about and listen to."
A murmur of approval rippled through the room.
Helena looked downright impressed, which, honestly, freaked me out more than anything. "That's... a solid plan, Amara."
Gerald nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "We'll discuss the details, but this could be the fresh start the project needs."
I couldn't believe it. They were actually listening to me. Me the walking disaster they thought would tank the company the second I stepped foot in here
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