A poised black woman extends her hand across the polished conference table. The white executive, Leonard Harrison, glances at it with undisguised disdain. I don’t shake hands with staff, he says, smirking at his colleagues. The room temperature seems to drop several degrees. She withdraws her hand with practiced composure. I’m not staff, she states quietly.
Leonard laughs, turning to his all-male executive team. Then what are you doing in my building? She opens her leather portfolio with deliberate movements, deciding whether to withdraw my $2 billion investment. Her voice never rises above conversational level.
The room freezes. Leonard’s smile vanishes. The executive’s face drains of color as security guards suddenly stand at attention.
Olivia Johnson steps out of her deliberately modest sedan in the Terra Nova Technologies parking lot. At 45, she carries herself with quiet confidence, her understated elegance a calculated choice. Today’s mission, evaluate whether Terra Nova deserves a $2 billion investment from her venture capital firm.
She surveys the gleaming headquarters with practiced neutrality. Glass and steel stretch skyward, a monument to tech success, and from her research, potentially toxic corporate culture. Inside, the receptionist, Miranda, glances up with a customer service smile that falters when she sees Olivia.
I’m here for my ten o’clock with Leonard Harrison, Olivia states. Miranda’s eyebrows lift slightly. Are you with the administrative applicants? HR is on the third floor.
I have an appointment with Mr. Harrison directly. Olivia’s voice remains even. Olivia Johnson.
Miranda checks her screen, skepticism evident. Please wait in that area. She gestures to a side seating section rather than the plush VIP lounge where two white men in suits are currently being served coffee.
Olivia notes this but takes a seat without comment. She observes everything. The flow of employees, predominantly white and male.
The hushed tones when someone glances her way. The assumptions operating beneath the surface. 45 minutes pass before Harrison’s assistant retrieves her.
Not the executive boardroom, but a small windowless meeting room awaits. Leonard Harrison barely looks up from his phone when she enters, gesturing vaguely toward a chair across the table. Three other executives, all white men in variations of the same gray suit.
Exchange knowing glances. One suppresses a yawn. Internally, Olivia recognizes the pattern.
20 years in finance has taught her to read these signals with precision. Each slight is familiar. The extended wait, the downgraded room, the dismissive greeting.
She decides to observe how far they’ll take the disrespect before revealing her position. Harrison finally sets down his phone. He looks at Olivia for the first time, his gaze a cursory assessment.
So you’re here about some diversity initiative? His tone suggests this is an obligation to be endured rather than a meeting of equals. I’m here to discuss potential investment opportunities, Olivia clarifies calmly. Harrison barely conceals his skepticism.
Right, investment. The word carries an undercurrent of disbelief. As Harrison prepares his condescending pitch, Olivia’s phone vibrates with a text from her CFO.
Confirm, to about be ready to deploy or withdraw based on your assessment. Let me walk you through what we do here at Terra Nova, Harrison begins, pulling up a presentation clearly designed for non-technical audiences. The slides feature cartoonish graphics and oversimplified diagrams.
We’re developing cutting edge AI solutions for enterprise clients. He speaks with exaggerated slowness, pausing after basic concepts. Are you following so far? He asks after explaining what an algorithm is.
Behind him, one executive whispers something to another, prompting muffled laughter. Olivia leans forward slightly. Your prospectus mentions a proprietary deep learning architecture.
Could you elaborate on how it differs from conventional transformer models, particularly regarding inference latency when deployed at scale? Harrison blinks, momentarily thrown. He fumbles with the presentation remote. Well, it’s quite technical.