Carmen followed Rosalind up the corridor of the South of Market residence with a gate that could’ve been cited by West Pointe staff as a demonstration of proper charging technique. “Well, the rumor always was, he has a hard time saying no to a pretty face. But, Miss Betters, I don’t think that was it at all. BetaHouse makes a great, highly-marketable suite of applications. Yomiko-san has always understood the value of giving the consumer what he wants. He would have picked it up even if you were forty-three, balding, and had a beer gut.”
“Maybe, though maybe not if I looked like that and still wore this skirt.”
As the two women boarded the elevator, Carmen pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. She illuminated the screen and handed it to her boss. “Thought you should see this.”
This was – frankly - very complimentary photo of Rosalind under a headline on Yahoo! Finance that read “It doesn’t get any Betters than this.” Rosalind gave her eyes permission to roll. Having such an easily mocked name meant she had heard it all in her time. It saddened her that so few people could surprise her with anything original any more.
The blurb summed up the publicly available facts. Clicking through, she couldn’t help but notice how the brief article closed out with a mini bio:
Rosalind Betters (31) holds master degrees from Stanford University in both Computer Science and Business, and founded BetaHouse two years ago with the help of several prominent Silicon Valley capital venture investors. She is unmarried and lives alone in San Francisco, CA.
“You ever notice how they never do that for men?” She pointed accusingly at the offending text.
Carmen leaned over and read it, giving it a disapproving glare. “As if to say, ‘well of course she’s successful in business, she has no social life’,” she concurred as she took back the phone. “Still, you are the headline of the day. That’s got to be something, right?”
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