The Group Chat

9:41 — "you've got this"
9:42 — "wear the blazer"
9:43 — a lion. Just a lion.
(the group chat's awake)

Interview at ten and my hands know it.
The big one. The panel one.
Bathroom mirror, second-guessing the blazer.
Then the phone starts going off like popcorn —
Dee with the voice note at volume ten —
'listen to me. LISTEN to me. You were built for this' —
Amara with the checklist she made at midnight —
salary range, red flags, one power question,
bullet-pointed, colour-coded, iron —
the kind of document nations should have,
Jo just sending lions, which is Jo for love.
Dee's voice note was forty seconds of gospel
recorded, by the echo, in her bathroom,
where, she maintains, the acoustics respect her.
Four women in three time zones
turning one nervous morning into a locker room,
into a tunnel walk, into an anthem
sung down a phone in three accents,
into armour you can screenshot.
I walked out of that bathroom
like a title fight entrance,
blazer doing its blazer thing,
phone warm as a hand in my pocket.

Nobody walks in alone
who's got a chat like mine.
Twelve years, four names, no missed mornings —
they're in my pocket, roaring.

The group chat said go!
(you've got this)
Phone in my pocket, lions out.
Four women in my pocket, roaring —
the group chat said go.

Dee said.
(you've got this)
Jo sent.
(the lion)

I got the job. Obviously I got the job.
The power question landed like a left hook.
The panel wrote things down. Amara's things.
I walked in carrying four women in a blazer.
Called the chat before I rang my mum.
All the typing bubbles bloomed at once,
a tiny fireworks display in grey.
Sorry, Mum. The chat had shares in this.
Dee screamed so loud her dog left the room.
Amara had champagne "already cold,
because I knew, and refrigeration is faith."
Jo sent one lion wearing sunglasses,
which in the ancient language of Jo
means: never in doubt.
Amara popped the cork down the line
so we all heard it land in three time zones.

Nobody rises alone
who's got a chat like mine.
Twelve years of "landed safe?" and "eat something" —
they're in my pocket, roaring.

The group chat said go!
(you've got this)
Phone in my pocket, lions out.
Four women in my pocket, roaring —
the group chat said go.

Dee: typing.
Amara: typing.
Jo: lion.
The phones stay charged. The lions stay ready.
Somebody's always up somewhere.

Truth is, we started as a lift-share rota,
four phones and one street between us.
We became a national grid.
Every one of us has walked into a room —
ward, boardroom, bad news —
electric with the other three,
and every room has wondered why
one woman came in sounding like a crowd.

The group chat said go!
(you've got this)
Champagne cold in Amara's fridge — faith.
Four women in my pocket, roaring —
the group chat said go.

Landed safe?
(eat something)
The group chat said go.