The Corporate Bitch

by J. J. R.

  “Although,” I hear him again, a little sharper this time and everyone snaps to attention.

  “I think the work Melanie and her team are doing is spot on, exactly what we need.” He nods in my direction and I can almost feel Puppet Master clawing his eyes out. For at that moment, Dante—formerly known as Bestie—has drawn his line in the sand, nay, he’s engraved it. He has just gone from Bestie to not just a work friend but near Jade territory. He has my back and this thought alone makes a giant smile break out across my lips.

  “Thank you, Dante. Your opinion and thoughts are heard loud and clear.” Queen Bee glances at Puppet Master and they exchange the nod once again.

  “I second that,” says Brisa—formerly known as Vain. “I’ve found the team to be more productive than it has ever been. No suggestions here. In fact, only a congratulations to Mel for putting on her running shoes and leading us to the next level.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Brisa has now made a public statement, a declaration of support, and has not only proven her loyalty to me as Dante has but has gone so far past the line she can’t even see it anymore. The room shuffles again under the weight of the politics and I decide it is finally time to speak.

  “Thank—” I start.

  Queen Bee quickly interjects at precisely the right time to stop me from saving myself, “That will be all. Thank you, team. Melanie, I trust you have your notes to work from? If you need clarification, please yield to Puppet Master for additional detail.”

  “Um, sure.” I nod and file out after everyone. Dante whispers in my ear to meet me in Level 2’s breakroom where it is safer.

  I feel the disapproving glowers from Queen Bee, Jock, Pawn, and, the ringleader, Puppet Master as I walk out, my head puffed up just a little bit from my new-found loyalty. I don’t know how on this earth I committed such a heinous crime in their eyes. I crossed over and have somehow in the last forty-eight hours become their mortal enemy. One kind gesture, one act toward Brisa, their mortal enemy, and their true colors come out like talons. I don’t know if I should feel relieved from finally seeing the truth, the reality I feared was there all along, or utterly, completely terrified for my damn life. Correction: job.

  * * * *

  Dante is brewing a fresh cup of coffee by the time I reach him. His little Prada shoes are tapping a mile a minute.

  His cheeks are flushed as he turns toward me. “Holy shit! I cannot believe what they just did to you in there. When I joked about career suicide, I was joking! I thought sure, it might piss them off a little, but they will be passive about it, the way they were to Brisa. They’ll leave you out of emails or important meetings. They’ll isolate you and never ask for your opinion on important matters. Maybe happy hours might dwindle or even give you some catty glances. But, noooo.” He sips his coffee, hands shaking and burns the crap out of his lip.

  I stand there watching all of this, eerily calm.

  “What are you thinking?” he says with a newfound lisp from a freshly burned tongue.

  “I guess I am in shock,” I say, sitting down. “I heard your warnings. I saw the way they treated other people, Admin, Brisa, but for some reason I thought I was exempt from all of that. I just figured they might say something rude, but I’m with you, never this.”

  “So why are you so damn calm?” he asks and sips, burns, curses.

  “Because all the warning signs were there,” I start and stand up again to pace around him in a circle. I never truly felt accepted. I saw the judgment, the expectation of perfection in their eyes, but I kept making excuses. Even to Finn, I would lie. They are great, I would say. I can be mentored by them. I am so lucky to fit in with these impressive women. But all the while, something was nagging at me.”

  “What does Finn think?”

  “He was afraid I was changing. He told me on Friday to heed the warning.”

  Dante steps closer to my face, eyes wide and lips, cherry red. “Heed the warning?”

  “Yep, he said all the signs were there to potentially go bad.”

  “Like what? What signs?”

  “Well, the Admin firing, the Brisa thing, and then everything Diane said last week. This is in confidence by the way.” I glance around my shoulder and lower my voice.

  He crosses his arms over his heart. Sip. Burn. Curse.

  “We had lunch and she said she hoped I would stay strong, that this place was harsh and there are way too many opinions. Couple that with my first email from the CEO when he told me not to engage in the politics,” I say.

  Dante’s eyes widen so far I think they might just pop out of his head and roll across the floor. He goes in for another sip and I reach out and take the mug from him.

  “He said that?” he whispers. “Oh my earthly idol Madonna, the queen of pop, this is too much.”

  “Exactly what Finn said: take note, tuck it in your back pocket, and play the game. Don’t trust anyone and if the shoe ever does drop, you will be safe because you saw it coming.”

  “Heed the warning,” he whispers. “Wish someone would have heeded me a little shit. It takes us both going down before you warn a sister.”

  “Warn about what?” Brisa skips into the kitchen, Dante having given her notice of our spot as well.

  We both look to her like we’ve discovered the hidden treasure buried deep in the corporate world.

  “It’s about to go down, isn’t it?” she rubs her hands together mischievously, before we divulge every juicy detail.

  My Twin

  Bitch Problem:

  Can you spot a manipulator? It’s hard. They will say and do things that pull at your emotional heartstrings to get you to reveal personal and work details, gossip and other information. When unchecked, manipulators can be the most toxic and dangerous in the workplace.

  Over a large, okay, tumbler-sized glass of wine later, I open my laptop and type in Katrina Reynolds, Marketing Director, Allure.

  My screen instantly loads to hundreds of images of her accepting awards; Best New Website 2014, Most Creative Brand Redesign 2013, Best ROI on Digital Campaign Award and the list goes on and on. She’s posing at galas and benefits right and left, graciously accepting industry awards for being a tip top expert in her field.

  I double click on one of the images and study her. She is glamourous as hell in a tight red dress, arm in arm with Queen Bee. I open the next. Green dress, CEO’s arm. Next, blue dress, her and Puppet Master laughing.

  What went wrong?

  I open her LinkedIn profile and see instantly that she has completely quit the corporate world altogether.

  “What?” I whisper to no one except Oliver. “She owns one of those wine and painting shops now in Brooklyn. What the hell?”

  I can’t wrap my head around it. She was at the top of her game, awards left and right. What happened? It’s too late to call Dante or Brisa, so instead I guzzle another glass and chew all of my nail polish off in a flurry.

  I proceed to devour her Facebook page, Twitter account, PaintingwithRed.com, photos of her with her boyfriend, her pet Shitzu and even manage to track down sorority photos. Did I mention I’m pretty good at trolling? She graduated in 2007 with her Masters at NYU. Same class. She has long blonde hair. Same as mine. She is almost exactly my height, my weight, nope, exactly my weight, as I discovered at weightlossforme.com on her profile, which I may or may not have hacked.

  “No way.” I lean back from the laptop, my eyes starting to cross. I look at Oliver who is currently too fat, too relaxed to care. He peeps with one eye as if urging me to continue. Is it me or does he truly care? Or is it the wine?

  I crawl down on his level and plant kisses on his fat little head. He smells like laundry.

  “If I were a betting woman, Oliver? I would place one point one million dollars on their intention to find a replacement Katrina and they found one.”

  * * * *

  Brisa and Dante are sitting opposite me the following day over a quick lunch-time martini. What? Queen Bee does it,
why not us?

  “I don’t think you are ready for this story,” Dante starts.

  “Wait!” I hold up both hands in submission before taking a long swallow of gin and nod. “Go!”

  Brisa laughs and we all settle into our seats to hear the magical story of a woman who looked, talked, walked, and thought just like me who went down in flames at Allure.

  “Once upon a time, there was another Amanda Seyfried look-alike with long, blonde curls, and a sweet Southern drawl…” he starts and waves his hands through the air for added animation.

  “Wait!” I stop him again.

  “Just drink your damn martini and listen, Mel.” He laughs.

  “No, I was going to say, it isn’t fair, I don’t have a southern accent.”

  “You are from Missouri?”

  I nod.

  “Same thing. So anyway, Katrina, fresh from graduate school was anxious to start out in her career. She had a small resume, but big ambition and she was determined to impress. She applied for an entry level marketing specialist role at Allure and peed herself when she got the interview. She put on her one and only suit and we’ll call them sturdy, not classy heels, and made her way into her interview. She was met at the door by the infamous Puppet Master, known by all who cross her to have secret strings in her hands controlling everyone around her.”

  Brisa and I break into a gin-driven laugh.

  “Puppet Master looked her up in down in that famous way of hers and decided she was the perfect victim. This young thing, this nobody, would be exactly the right fit. She could mold her, control her always. A new pair of strings attached to this young blonde’s head and she was in business. She would be another perfect addition to her group of Divas that worship her as the true Queen Bee.”

  “So what happened?” Brisa asked, as she wasn’t there when this all went down.

  “She was hired on the spot. Barely even went through her resume and she was rumored to be seen jumping up and down in Queen Bee’s arms, welcoming her new perfect pet to the team.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I interject again, getting an annoyed look from Dante, as he is loving his story more than anyone else. “It happened exactly like me? Exactly?”

  “Exactly,” he says and drains his martini. “Pretty little Katrina got right to work with her new mind-blowing salary driving her dedication. They paid her too much. Were too nice to her. She owed them her soul and every single ounce of her time. She worked day and night. It wasn’t uncharacteristic to see emails floating back and forth between Queen Bee, Puppet Master, and Katrina at three in the morning. She was their slave, but she didn’t know it. She was so busy working her little size ten ass off and so enamored by the glamour of the fancy office, gorgeous clothes, and spicy happy hours that she ignored all of their little quirks. Sure they were a little mean, talked a little too much about other people but that would never happen to her. She was one of them. She belonged.”

  “Until?” I ask, literally hanging off the edge of my bar stool.

  “Until she didn’t. One wrong move and she was ousted so fast the only thing she had left was her precious little awards she had won. I’ve never seen a colleague work so hard, win so many awards, do so many amazing things and fall that far, that fast.”

  “So what did she do to piss them off?” Brisa wonders.

  “Well, when her shelves started filling up from all of the awards, she got a little bit more confident with each one. She started dressing better, standing up straighter, and questioning things a little bit more. And that my innocent-eyed friends, is a no, no, no, no, no. You do not question the Queen Bee or her Puppet Master. They question you. And if they feel the tides turn, they will do whatever it takes to regain the power. Even get rid of you. One minute she was here in her fabulous, gorgeous outfits and the next day she was banished from the city.”

  We sit in stunned, dramatic silence.

  “I thought they got it out of their system with Katrina, Mel, honest to Madonna. I never dreamed that they would treat you this way. I just thought they had some kind of issue with her, maybe there was something I didn’t know. You know I play Switzerland, I always have. Even back in the Katrina days. I could have lunch with her and she’d bitch her little heart out. You know the corporate bitch sessions we coined? And then she would be totally chill if I had drinks with the Divas, actually encouraging me to go with them to prevent me having complications. She was determined to keep me out of it, swearing it would resolve over time. But it never did. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” He sighs and I notice tiny little tears welling up in his large doe eyes.

  “Wow,” Brisa says.

  “Wow,” I echo. “And now she owns her own little paint shop in Brooklyn.”

  “I bet she’s really happy. Toward the end, she got real burnt out, couldn’t keep up with the politics. She was determined to go out on her own if it didn’t work out at Allure. The only thing is, I don’t think she truly ever saw it coming. She believed, I’m sure of it, up until the end that things would go back to the way they were. What she didn’t know was that she was just a pawn in their game and if she thought, felt, or fought for anything other than what they expected her to, she was on borrowed time. I’m happy for her though. What I can’t believe is that it is happening all over again.”

  “We can’t let it,” Brisa says and slams a dainty fist on the table. “It isn’t right! You are better than that, Mel. We are going to fight for you. You did for me and I am the reason you are pushed out, but I won’t let you go down without a fight.”

  I let out the breath I never realized I was holding and lean back in my seat to process. “I may be in over my head,” I finally mutter. “I’ve never won marketing awards. Katrina was way better than me and they still ousted her.”

  “Don’t you get it? That’s what they love. They wanted someone they could control even more,” Dante says with a shake of my shoulder. “You are stronger than her though. You have a fight in your eyes that I never saw in hers.”

  “You think so?” I ask, begging for confirmation. Wishing suddenly, desperately that Finn was there to offer an arm to tuck into, some whispering words of confidence. He could make everything better.

  “Damn straight. We just need a plan!” Brisa says.

  “Damn straight!” Dante slaps his hands together.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” I say. “But if I’m going to do this, it has to be done right, meticulously planned. I need to always be prepared and know that you are with me.”

  “We’re in,” Brisa exclaims.

  “You got it,” says Dante.

  “And I want to meet Katrina first,” I say, leaving a look of shock and admiration on their faces.

  Just Stretching?

  Bitch Problem:

  Aside from wanting to climb the ladder, this particular bully may actually be striving for your job. Perhaps they think they can expose your inability to do it correctly and seek opportunities to make you look a fool. This bully often reports into you and may have even applied for your job prior to you starting. Be mindful of their spreading slanderous gossip to tear you down even further.

  My workload is on fire. I’ve never worked so hard, so fast in my life. I come in around six in the morning and stay until almost nine the following week. Queen Bee and Puppet Master are throwing so much my way, and I’m sure it’s a direct reaction to my having lunch with Brisa. The odd thing is, they are being oddly nice. And not like a fake, sticky-sweet nice, but very down to earth. I can’t get a read on it for my life, and it’s driving me crazy. Dante says to hang tight, that strike two is coming. He said that’s what they want from me, to fall victim to their niceness and not retaliate. It is a control measure.

  I don’t know what do believe. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad. That crap meeting last week was so inappropriate. But what if she really was just trying to help me be a better support? Okay, okay, I know I sound like I have Stockholm Syndrome.

  What I do know is I committed to thi
s big plan with Dante and Brisa, but I can barely keep my head above water. It is almost easier just to pretend like the whole thing didn’t happen and keep my head down. Diane checked in on me the other day and asked if I needed anything; I told her I was fine. Martyr popped in and told me it was nice to see someone else ramrodded for the first time; I told him thanks.

  Dante and Brisa give me a look at least twice a day, indicating the need to devise the plan. My only fear is that I’m too chickenshit to make it happen.

  * * * *

  And then, out of the clear blue...strike two.

  I’m on my way to the kitchen and I hear Queen Bee’s cackle from her office echoing down the hall. I keep on with my journey until I hear a loud man’s voice. I freeze. CEO is here.

  I walk slower, trying to hear what they are saying. Sure, one might call it spying. In fact, as I pass a few people’s offices, I shuffle along a bit quicker to avoid awkward questioning. She’s laughing a little too loud though and it is making me feel suspicious.

  And then I hear, “Melanie, riiiight.”

  My name. They are talking about me. I downright stop, dead stop in the hallway and cock my head to the side like a child snooping.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say she is a mistake. No, that is too harsh. But she is a bit combative. From what I’ve gathered from Puppet Master, she challenges everything,” says Queen Bee.

  “Isn’t that what we want? Don’t we want a fresh perspective?”

  “I don’t think it’s constructive. Puppet Master even says she is rude.”

  “That treacherous bitch,” I whisper.

  “Enough about what she thinks, what do you think?” he asks. “And I want to have a meeting with her myself.”

  “Fine, fine…” Queen Bee starts.

  I lean in on my tiptoes, step a little closer…

  “Looking for something?”

  I swivel to see Puppet Master, arms crossed, eyebrow arched.

  “Me, no, I was, uh, stretching out my legs, leg cramp,” I say and bend over awkwardly, even flashing a bit of my underwear despite my best effort.