The Evolution of Eriko
Eriko had always known she was ahead of her time.
For years, she had pushed against the inertia of outdated workflows at the hospital, advocating for the implementation of AI-powered procurement, OCR-driven invoice processing, and automated reconciliation systems. She had fought, argued, and—on more than a few occasions—sarcastically dismantled the resistance of her more traditional colleagues.
"Oh, yes, let’s manually process another hundred invoices. It’s not like the rest of the world has moved on or anything."
"Ah, yes, let’s keep photocopying forms like we’re living in a 2008 time capsule. Maybe I should bring in a fax machine for authenticity."
Her editorializing had been biting, but it had worked. The logjam of resistance had cracked, then splintered, then broken apart entirely.
Now, people were changing.
And Eriko realized—with no small amount of discomfort—that she needed to change, too.
A Quiet Crisis
Sitting at their apartment's kitchen counter one evening, Eriko frowned at her laptop screen.
Sammi, cross-legged on the couch with a book in her lap, glanced up. "You’re making the face."
Eriko barely looked away from the screen. "What face?"
"The 'I’m-too-smart-for-this-world-but-now-it’s-causing-me-existential-dread' face."
Eriko sighed, rubbing her temples. "They’re finally using the AI tools. The OCR implementation went live last week. They’re actually improving procurement efficiency by 20% just by following the automation workflows I built."
"That’s great, isn’t it?"
"It is," Eriko admitted. "But… I don’t know how to talk to people now. I’m—" She hesitated, struggling with the words. "I’m used to pushing. I’m used to arguing. I’m used to being the one pointing out the historical context of why they should have done this years ago."
Sammi smirked. "Yeah, you do love telling people they should have seen the light back in 2019."
Eriko shot her a glare.
Sammi held up her hands. "Okay, okay, but seriously—what’s the problem now?"
Eriko closed her laptop with a heavy sigh. "The problem is… I don’t know what my persona is supposed to be anymore. They don’t need the ‘frustrated advocate’ Eriko anymore. But I don’t know how to be the ‘nurturing leader’ Eriko, either."
Sammi’s amusement faded. She set her book aside and leaned forward. "You want to help them keep changing, but you don’t know how to do it in a way that fits who you are?"
Eriko nodded. "I can’t just become some fake ‘rah-rah’ team motivator overnight. I don’t want to lose what made me effective… but I also don’t want to be that person—the one who keeps saying ‘I told you so’ while everyone else is actually making progress."
Sammi tilted her head, thoughtful. "So what does that leave?"
Silence stretched between them.
Eriko tapped her fingers against the countertop. "Maybe… maybe I become the one who refines. The one who sharpens the edge now that the blade is already cutting. Less of a battle strategist. More of a—"
Sammi grinned. "A master craftsman?"
Eriko exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. "Something like that."
Sammi stood, walked over, and slid an arm around Eriko’s waist. "I know you’re worried about how you come across, but let’s be honest—you’re never going to be a ‘soft leadership’ type. And that’s fine. People don’t need you to change who you are—they need you to apply yourself differently."
Eriko leaned into the touch, a rare moment of surrender. "And if I slip up? If I get frustrated again?"
Sammi squeezed her hand. "Then I’ll be here to remind you to take a breath. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll even bring you a milk tea."
Eriko snorted. "Bribery through bubble tea. That’s cheap."
Sammi smirked. "And yet, incredibly effective."
Eriko exhaled, staring at her laptop again. Tomorrow, she would walk into the office with a different approach—not as the frustrated prophet of progress, but as the master craftsman of the future.
And no matter what, she knew one thing:
She had Sammi beside her.
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