“But wait, we can’t just bully her into submission with the SLA,” Eunice points out, leaning forward as the clock on the screen ticks past 8:02 PM. “If she’s genuinely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of Chinwe’s order plus the international client, a legal threat might just make her throw her hands up and return the deposit. We need a production solution, not just a legal hammer.”
Chinwe finally clicks her camera on. Her hair is wrapped in a silk bonnet, and her face looks completely drained. “The artisan already sent me a long voice note right before I joined this call. She said if I am not happy with the new timeline, she will just refund my deposit. She is not even fighting for the business anymore because that international client is offering her ‘express’ payment. First of all, my order is not an emergency order; I placed it early enough! Also, I don’t have wiggle room in my production budget for ‘express payment’; I can’t even compete with that nonsense right now.”
“We aren’t competing with them,” Tola says, her tone shifting from purely adversarial to clinical as she adjusts her glasses. “We are enforcing an existing agreement, but we can structure a compromise. Eunice, did you get the signed SLA back from her on Saturday night?”
“I did,” Eunice says, “But Chinwe is right. Even with the contract, it’s not like we can force the sun to shine. If the fabric doesn’t dry, it doesn’t dry. We need a realistic workaround.”
Zahrah evaluates the problem in her mind, trying to strip her thought process of all emotions. The problem is simply an operational bottleneck. “Wait,” Zahrah interrupts, leaning closer to her laptop. “Chinwe, let’s break down the production stages. The order is split into tie-and-dye designs and batik, right?”
“Yes,” Chinwe says, resting her chin on her hand. “The tie-and-dye designs I chose require a much shorter processing time compared to the batik, but our deal was that I’d get the batik first.”
“Okay, then we change the delivery plan,” Zahrah says, her mind clicking into gear. “Have her fast-track the tie-and-dye pieces immediately. Since the production cycle for tie-and-dye is faster, she can finish those and ship that entire batch to you within the first week.”
Eunice’s eyes light up, her pen flying across her notepad. “Yes! That keeps your tailors fully occupied for the next fourteen days. While they are cutting and sewing the tie-and-dye batch, the artisan uses that two-week buffer to work exclusively on the intricate batik process. By the time your tailors are done with the first batch, the batik pieces will be ready for delivery.”
The virtual room goes quiet for a second. The panic starts to settle.
“But what about the international client bit?” Chinwe asks, a glimmer of hope returning to her voice. “The artisan is still panicking over the workload.”
“That is where Tola’s legal framing saves us,” Zahrah explains. “We aren’t asking her to drop the international client. We are presenting a staggered delivery schedule that allows her to fulfill both. Tola, when you call her, you establish that ‘Chinwe The Brand’ is her primary commitment because of the existing SLA, but this staggered timeline gives her the breathing room she needs. If she still pushes back, then we bring up the formal breach-of-contract notice.”
Tola smirks. “Exactly. We’re trying to meet her halfway so she doesn’t feel backed into a corner, but we won’t be played for fools either.”
For the first time all evening, Chinwe breathes out a genuine laugh. “You girls are just amazing! I was too distraught to think of any solution, and look at how easily you people solved my problem.”
They spend the next few minutes going through the possible arguments Chinwe’s artisan could come up with and finding peaceful resolutions to all those arguments. By 9 PM, they have a solid recovery plan ready to be executed.
As the meeting winds down, Tola asks the question the others have been too occupied to remember, looking intently at Zahrah. “By the way, Zee, you were very quiet about your meeting with Mark today. How did your audacious ask go?”
Zahrah smiles, the excitement from her morning meeting with Mark rushing back. “He didn’t say no! He gave me a two-month probation to prove the framework. If the numbers move, I get my 250k ask and a 15,000 Naira monthly dinner allowance for the nights I stay late.”
The girls excitedly talk at the same time, expressing joy and pride in Zahrah. Chinwe claps directly into the camera, and Eunice actually stands up from where she’s seated to do a little celebratory dance.
Zahrah laughs, feeling the heavy weight of the day finally lift from her shoulders.
“You earned it, Zee. Sleep well, everyone,” Tola says, blowing a kiss to the camera.
But just as the girls start dropping off the call, a sharp, repetitive ping echoes from Zahrah’s computer. A push notification from her workspace administration tool flashes at the top corner of her screen.
The notification reads: Workspace Integration Error: Concurrent Session Limit Exceeded / Account Locked.
Zahrah’s smile instantly fades. To set up the automated Content Process Framework without incurring high software fees, she had used a free-tier automation tool. Because the free plan didn’t allow multiple user accounts, she had quietly shared her master login credentials with the creative team so they could link their submission forms.
She stares at the log. A specific IP address had logged in and duplicated her entire proprietary framework architecture, exporting the blueprint to a brand-new, separate workspace. Someone hadn’t just accidentally opened a folder; they had stolen her exact workflow layout to run their own personal project submission through it, probably planning to pitch the results to Mark as their own, or to use it for a personal gig.
“Zahrah? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Tola says, pausing as her finger hovers over the disconnect button.
Zahrah forces a nod, her fingers trembling slightly against the mousepad as she maximises the window on her laptop screen. “Yeah. Just late-night jitters. See you guys tomorrow.”
She ends the call, the silence of her dining room suddenly feeling heavy. Monday wasn’t over yet, and another headache had found her.
It seems I’m going to be really sweating for this promotion. You just wait, thief; I’ll find you!
