The Corporate Bitch

by J. J. R.

  The bathroom stall door opens and a small, frail elderly woman makes her way over to wash her hands in the sink next to me.

  “I talk to myself sometimes too.” She smiles up at me. “It helps. Especially in this wicked city.”

  “Oh yeah?” I laugh at being caught and find myself enamored by how adorable she is in her little pink tweed skirt suit and double strand of pearls.

  “You know what helps even more than a good heart to heart with yourself?”

  “What’s that?” I ask in genuine curiosity.

  “Never get involved in the first place.” She dries her hands with a paper towel and scoots out the door.

  “Never get involved in the first place,” I repeat.

  * * * *

  “Took you long enough.” Puppet Master is now on her second glass. “I’ve been dying to know what CEO said to you that day in the hall. Everyone is talking about it. I heard you threw a donut at him?” She laughs in horror.

  “No, that isn’t what happened at all. That’s what everybody thinks? No, I tried to toss it in the trash can and missed.” I could just die. I can’t believe that’s what they think!

  “Not much better.” She laughs. “And you were crying on his shoulder? What did he say?”

  “No!” This is absolutely horrifying. “I was just stressed. My own fault really for all of the web issues. He just told me to stay strong,” I say in defense.

  “Was that a dig at Queen Bee? Sounds like a dig.” She brings her glass to her lips.

  “No! We didn’t say anything about her. He was just trying to make me feel better.”

  “Hmm… ‘cause you know they have, like, this history. He’s always trying to control her, but she does all of the work. Like everything. She not only keeps the business running, but is the only reason it’s grown. He really should just retire, hand it over to her. He’s too old to be there and stay up-to-date with all the newest trends. The Board thinks so too.”

  All I can think about at this moment as more secrets pour out is my friend from the bathroom, “Never get involved in the first place.”

  “Just don’t expect much out of him. That’s all I’m saying. But you didn’t hear any of this from me.”

  Am-Bitch-ous

  Bitch Problem:

  Are you always on the defense at work? Maybe you made a past mistake or didn’t speak correctly about a certain situation. As a result, a bully has it out to make you question your every step and defend yourself constantly by bringing up past situations.

  I commit to keeping my head down and powering through the next week. After all, I only have until Wednesday. It is gorgeous Thanksgiving weekend and I’m more ready than I have ever been to stuff my face with turkey and green bean casserole. I even manage to skip out a bit early on Wednesday to make it to the airport with Finn by six. Back to good ole’ Missouri. The Show Me State.

  Finn is sleeping on my arm, snoring in fact, as the plane slides in to the cold, November farmland. From my window, I can see the start of flakes floating around the air like little pieces of cotton. Before I realize it, a smile has spread across my face. I’m home.

  * * * *

  Mom and Dad fling the door open wide to the sound of our rental car inching down the gravel road. By the time I am pulling into the drive, my Dad has his big bear arms outstretched wide, ready to lift me right out of my snow boots.

  “Dad! Mom!” I scream and race for them. I realize it doesn’t matter how far I go, how much I accomplish, I’m still their little girl.

  Finn follows suit and kisses my mom on the cheek before presenting her with a little jewelry box from his right pocket.

  “You silly boy!” she squeals in delight. “It isn’t even Christmas or my birthday.” Her rosy cheeks are round with delight as she snaps the box open to find a pair of diamond studs. She gasps. “No, no, I can’t accept them!” she says as she immediately starts putting them in her ears.

  I laugh and wrap my arms around both of them and let them lead me into the house, leaving Finn with my overstuffed bags. He is always such a stud muffin that way.

  * * * *

  And the feasting begins! Mom has a large cherry pie with vanilla bean ice cream just waiting for us. I am barely at the table before she plops a large plate in front of me, cherries dripping from the crust.

  I stuff a big bite in my cheeks and grin. “I love you, Mom,” I say.

  “You’re too thin. Look at that thin little waist of yours! Are you using those waist trainers the Kardashians are raving about? I tell you, how on earth we are still using corsets in this day and time, I’ll never understand.”

  Dad cuts her off, “How was your flight, peanut?” He plops a big slice of pie on his plate and nestles in beside me at the table.

  At the front door, I hear Finn burst in with heavy groans. “Got it! No worries, doll!”

  “Thanks, sweetie!” I call through a mouth full of pie. “Isn’t he such a good man?”

  Dad chuckles. “How you landed that one, I’ll never understand,” he says and pokes me in the side.

  “You and Jenny McCarthy?” I laugh.

  * * * *

  My mom doesn’t waste another second before racing to get her wedding collection. She told me over the phone that she had been working on it for months, just counting down the days until I came to visit. She plops it on the table, a big fat, five inch binder filled to the brim with floral arrangements, cake designs, tuxedo colors, bridal gowns, wedding vow snippets, song lists, mother of the bride ensembles and her favorite section...centerpieces.

  I lean back in my chair and smile as I watch my giddy little mom, barely five feet tall, flip from page to page with the enthusiasm of wedding planner. I snuggle up against Dad and listen to her rant and rave about her favorite, hand-etched invitation.

  “So, what all have you done so far?” She looks up at me expectantly. “I know you were working on the registry and all…”

  “Most important part,” says Finn and plops down at the octagon-shaped kitchen table.

  My Dad slides a beer across the table with a wink. “You earned it chap.”

  “You can say that again.” He laughs and takes a long, slow swig of beer. “Honestly, Diane? We have been in a little bit of a stalling point with Mel’s new job and all. I swear she is marrying Allure and not me.”

  I shoot him an evil glare, just knowing he is ready to pick a fight and let my parents side with him.

  “Is that so?” My mom looks at me over her reading glasses.

  “Well maybe a little. Hey, they’re paying me a small fortune. It’s expected of me.”

  “Whatever it is.” Dad pats me on the head before heading over to the fridge for another beer. “It isn’t worth it. Family first. That’s what we always taught you. And Finn’s your family now.”

  “And what are you going to do when you get pregnant?” Mom asks in horror. “How are you going to be a mom and work all those hours? I’ve been getting emails from you well after midnight, young lady.”

  I shoot Finn an even darker glare.

  “Don’t go giving my son one of your death stares,” Mom says with a note of seriousness. “He’s just worried about you, that’s all.”

  I sigh. “I know. I know. I know. Listen, I get it. It’s only going to be for a little while. I have to prove myself right now. The girl that was there before me had a pretty tough time, and I don’t want that to happen to me.”

  “How so?” My dad ruffles the grey wisps on his forehead.

  “I’m not too sure honestly. That girl, Puppet Master, the one I told you about? She’s told me pretty much everything else but that.”

  “Like what kind of stuff?” my Mom asks, sliding her wedding book aside and giving me her full attention.

  “Oh, I don’t know, like how the Queen Bee is pushing the CEO out because he is worthless, that other girl Vain has a reputation for sleeping with everyone in the office, and just last week she fired her assistant for advice I gave her to just talk to
Puppet Master.”

  My Dad let out a long whistle and my Mom’s hands draw to her lips.

  “My word,” she said under her breath. “Why is she telling you all of that stuff? It isn’t right.”

  “Damn straight,” Dad said and Finn nodded along for good measure.

  “Before I retired at the hospital, I had a woman that was eerily similar. She was always spreading the gossip to further her case. You’ve got to watch out for those types. After all, if they’re talking to you about someone else, they are talking to someone else about you.”

  Finn raises his eyebrows and frowns a bit.

  “What did we call her, John? That girl Gale from the hospital?”

  “Am-bitch-ous,” he said, plain as day, serious as hell.

  And we all burst out laughing. Ambitchous. I love it.

  * * * *

  After a night of poker and margaritas with the neighbors, Finn and I collapse into bed without one word to one another. We sleep until noon. I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt so tired. Normally, I toss and turn, anxious about emails but not here. Not in my childhood home surrounded by all of the familiar, comforting smells of laundry detergent and homemade baked goodness. Regardless of how important I may feel out there, working in the big city, making a living my parents never dreamed of, when I am home in my old room, I’m just Mel.

  I wake to find Finn on his back, mouth wide open and snoring. He looks so adorable, all snuggled under my pink comforter. I reach over and wrap my arms around his waist and breathe him in.

  He groans and stretches a stretch that only inhibits more sleep. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly a quarter past noon. Can you believe it? I haven’t slept this late since my college days.” I smile as Baxter, Mom’s little Toy Poodle, climbs his little doggy ladder and snuggles up against Finn. Max, their gorgeous Calico cat, has already staked out his claim on my pillow, leaving me less than an inch for my own sleep.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he mumbles into my hair, pulling me into a good morning hug. I love how he smells in the morning, like warm sleep and shampoo.

  “Baby,” I say. “I can tell you are really frustrated with me. About work and all.”

  “Frustrated for you, not so much me,” he corrects me. “I’m a big boy. I understand when the work needs to get done, and I know how much you love this job. I also understand that you have your father’s entrepreneurial spirit. You work hard, Mel. No one is doubting that. It’s just, well, to be honest, it doesn’t feel like you. Kind of like that square peg, round hole saying. You’re so damn smart and you can succeed at anything you do. I don’t mean to make you feel like you don’t have my support.” He’s on his side, staring straight into my eyes.

  “Then what is it, Finn? Because I’ll be honest, I have never worked so hard in my life, and I am not feeling your support.”

  “Oh man, that is how it’s coming across, isn’t it?”

  I nod and stick my bottom lip out. He laughs and pulls me into a bear hug.

  “I’m sorry, baby girl, doll face. I’m an ass. I’m so terrible at explaining myself. Let me try again.”

  “Okay,” I encourage and sit up and lean on my elbow to give him my full attention. This man never complains about anything, ever. He supports every wild idea, every random purchase and every single emotion I’ve ever had. This doesn’t feel an ounce like us. I’ve known something was bothering him for some time, but I suppose I was too nervous to ask him what he was really thinking.

  “Here goes one last, pathetic attempt to say what is rolling around in good ole’ Finn’s head.” He laughs. “The word…honest. That triggered some of the feelings I’m having. When you said you were being honest? Allure just doesn’t feel honest. These women, I know you love them, admire them, but it’s so far from who you are, it doesn’t feel right. I guess I’m afraid you are going to get caught up in this world, the money, the bags, the high heels and lose who you are. And it bothers me that they expect you to be available every single hour of the day, but it isn’t because I’m that needy. It’s because it isn’t right.” He lets out a long sigh and stares back at me with puppy eyes awaiting a reply.

  “Are you done?” I ask. “Okay, now here me out. I agree with about fifty percent of what you said. Regarding these women, this life, I’ll be honest…it isn’t exactly me. Honesty, integrity, loyalty, those are my values, and it isn’t exactly a perfect match. They are mad with ambition and from what I can see don’t exactly give people a second chance. But, and there is a huge but, they have been nothing but nice and welcoming to me.”

  “Ha!” Finn laughs. “Huge but! Get it?”

  “Shut up,” I say, smacking him in the arm. “And listen. As far as the lifestyle goes? The glitz, glam and so much money? How could I not be enamored by it? It is intoxicating. I use words to describe these women that I have never once in my life considered using to describe me.”

  “Such as?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Such as fabulous, sexy, and desirable.” I say, raising mine in reply.

  “And who says you aren’t any of those things? I for one don’t agree,” he says, pulling at the string on my flannel jammies.

  I smack his hand. “It doesn’t matter if you do. Okay, okay, it does. But it matters if I do. I don’t feel those things. For once in my life, I’m not chubby, chubby as I was, having lost ten pounds, I make good money, and I can literally feel my confidence growing. So what if I’m not all of those things, act that way. What if I want to?” I sigh.

  “But that’s not who I fell in love with. You are more than that, Mel and you know it. So go ahead, be glamourous, buy the fancy shoes, cause God knows you make enough and you earned it, but all that I’m asking is don’t change who you are. Deal?”

  “Seal it with a kiss?” I grin.

  “You’re just using me for my body.” He puts his lip out and rolls away.

  I pounce on him and kiss him on the ear, right where he likes it. But when he reaches for my flannels again, I smack him harder than the last time. “What are you doing, perve? No hanky panky in my parent’s house. Who do you think I am, some glitzy big city girl?”

  “That’s all I see from where I’m laying…” He pulls me into his arms and I melt against him.

  * * * *

  I hear my phone, on Thanksgiving for that matter, ding over fifty times during the parade. Finally, I reach for my phone, begging for forgiveness as I do. It could, after all, be an emergency.

  I scroll through and read subject lines only.

  Queen Bee: Ideas for Strategic Plan

  Puppet Master: Amendments to Strategic Plan

  Jock: Strategic Plan Changes

  Queen Bee: Priorities

  Pawn: Needs

  Martyr: Ideas…only if you want them

  I stop after Martyr’s and glance at Finn. He is presently rolling his eyes at some teenage dream boat lip synching on a Candyland float. He is so focused. Maybe just one email.

  I open “Priorities” from Queen Bee.

  And read:

  Melanie Darling,

  Let’s talk tomorrow about setting some immediate and long term goals for you. After talking with Puppet Master, I think it is crucial we are all on the same page.

  See you then,

  QB

  My face crinkles into a thousand lines of confusion. What were they talking about? What priorities? Am I doing something wrong? I’m doing everything and I mean everything Puppet Master has requested. So what am I missing? Why is she emailing on Thanksgiving? And the last and worst question...tomorrow? Meet tomorrow? I’m not home!

  Finn is now reaching into the candy bowl to start in on a pile of pre-Turkey Snickers. I quickly reply.

  Hi Queen Bee-

  Happy Thanksgiving! Hope you are enjoying your day. I got your note about tomorrow and I am so sorry to report that I’ve gone home for Thanksgiving—to Missouri. I sent you an email, but I know you are busy and may have overlooked it. Please let me know i
f Monday is okay to touch base.

  Enjoy your day!

  Mel

  Less than thirty seconds later, her reply:

  Melanie-

  Missouri? You said you were spending Thanksgiving with your family, but I had no idea you meant on another continent. I’ll be there Friday and would really like to make the best use of time. You understand?

  Ciao,

  QB

  “Shit!” I burst and slam my phone against the armrest. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  Empty

  Bitch Problem:

  Is it a case of just a control freak? As in they want things done their way during their time.

  Don’t be fooled, this is still a type of office bully. They spend more time telling you how to do your work and not doing theirs. They believe they are smarter and better and want their thumb print on everything.

  I graciously accept the flight attendant’s offer for an extra bag of peanuts, feeling Finn’s eyes on me the whole time.

  “I can’t believe you’re rushing back on Thanksgiving night,” he says, letting every bit of anger drip off his tongue. “The pie hadn’t even been served yet.”

  “I had pie yesterday,” I crack, trying to make light of the situation. He doesn’t bite, instead he leans his head back and closes his eyes.

  “It isn’t right. You emailed her, requested off in the payroll system and just because she doesn’t remember, you ditch your family and rush back. I hate to say it…”

  “But what?” I hiss.

  Now I’m getting ticked. I’m acutely aware that I’m now officially taking it out on him. All of it. Every bit. The looks on my Mom, Dad, Aunt, Uncle, and cousin’s face. The exhaustion from traveling this far in two days. The flat out pissed off feeling I have toward Queen Bee. Although, I would never tell him that. No, it’s far easier to just pretend it is his fault for being mad at me.