by Gillian Zane
“Miriam said I was taking a coordinator position.” I stood firm. I knew from her profile that if I backed down she would walk all over me. She also wouldn’t take me seriously and I needed her to think of me as competition. When I was established as competition to her, she would be compelled to put me in my place. I needed to get these karma wheels churning.
I hadn’t expected my target to engage me immediately, but she was one of those people who had to establish dominance, come Hell or high water, or more literally, come karma or high water. It was one of her signature moves, according to her case file. Establish herself as the de facto leader with new employees, place herself in a position where they would come to her for information and mentorship, then feed them bad information and advice to make them look stupid to the real bosses. She had burned most of the employees she worked with, but they all smiled at her face, not wanting to get on her bad side.
“But, weren’t you Phillip’s assistant?” she asked, not letting this go. Her voice was soft and curious. She was good at playing cute and cuddly.
I nodded slightly, knowing where she was going with this.
“So, you only know how to answer phones? Nothing about marketing? Right?"
I nodded again.
"Aww, sweetie, yeah, you’re going to be the receptionist. I get so many phone calls, someone needs to screen them.” She laughed and rolled her eyes up to the sky like she was embarrassed to admit how popular she was.
“Oh great, Lori, you’ve met our new coordinator,” the AE who I think Miriam introduced as Charles said and he came barreling down the aisle between cubicles. He stood in the center and snapped his fingers like he was the teacher in a classroom of grade schoolers trying to get their attention.
“People, quick pow wow in conference room three.” He hurried away, expecting us to follow. He headed toward the back of the office and Lori and I began to trail behind him like good little employees. The whine of chairs across their plastic carpet protectors and the clacking of feet followed us.
Charles led us into a conference room down a side hall and stood at the head of the conference table, not bothering to sit down. He motioned for everyone to take a seat. There were five others besides me and Lori and one of those other people was Lauren. She frowned when I caught her eye, not looking pleased to see me.
“We have a new coordinator, she’s taking Bryan’s spot. Stand up, Kelly,” he said.
“Cassidy,” I corrected. Why couldn't anyone get my name right?
“Right, Cassidy,” he smiled uncomfortably. “As everyone knows, we’re in crisis mode. I’ll be on the phone doing nothing but ass-kissing for the next week. Ass. Kissing.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled like crisis mode was the usual way of life.
“The big E’s are flying out to personally do damage control on Ripley’s and Nutastic. For some reason, Miriam thought it would be nice to finally give us a new coordinator.”
“The big E’s are the five Account Execs,” Lori Kay whispered loudly to me. Miriam had told me all of this. There were only three of them and each had their own department.
“We lost five clients yesterday. It’s a fuck-fest, people,” Charles continued. “FUBAR like they used to say when I was in the military. The clients that are sticking with us are going to want everything accounted for, and that’s where you’re going to come in. I expect exceptional work from each and every one of you. We’ll work as a team…”
He kept droning on and on with every business platitude you could think of, interjected with misplaced acronyms from his “military days.” If this guy had served, I was a virgin. Charles had corporate worker bee down to a science, complete with the memorized script. The people around me nodded their heads and sucked down the juice he was spewing. They were probably zoning him out just as much as I was, their necks on bobblehead mode.
“Spreadsheets should be on my desk by four today. The only exception should be Kranston and Cassidy.” He looked at me and I tried to look engaged. “I want Cassidy fully trained by the end of the week, Kranston.” A man who I assumed was Kranston nodded and smiled at me. He was a young guy with glasses. He could do with fewer cheeseburgers and a little less hair gel, but overall he looked nice.
“Alright, let’s get this shit done, people!” Charles didn’t give us any chance to engage with him before he turned on his heel and raced down the hallway back to his office.
The group wandered back to their cubicles. My new trainer, Kranston, trailed next to me, chatting the entire walk back to our department.
“Your job is to keep the clients on track with their marketing calendars. You run intermediary between them and Charles. If you run into an issue, you get Charles. If you run into a question about budget, you get Charles. If your client does anything not on script, you get…”
“Charles,” I finished for him. He laughed like I was so witty.
“We keep the client files in drive G.” Kranston, with a K, and a penchant for quirky socks and tea, never coffee, well, maybe only the frozen kind, droned on and on as he pulled up a chair next to my desk and settled in. Kranston was currently single and abstinent, by choice, not by circumstance, or so he stated emphatically. He was also toying with the notion that he might be asexual since he identified as neither gay nor straight, but God forbid if you were to call him bisexual. His life was this job and the job was his life. He was heartbroken with what Phillip had done to the company and considered breaking his alcohol ban over it. If the company lost more clients, it was a given he would be at the bar tonight.
Kranston knew how to make small talk. He shared all this information with me in between walking me through the filing system, the different charting processes that tracked buyer personas and the churn spreads…whatever that meant. After two hours of non-stop chatter, he suggested we grab a drink at the shop that had recently opened in the building next to us and I eagerly accepted. I thought I would get a reprieve from the endless talking when he started slurping his tea, but he continued. In the elevator. In the lobby. Down the hall that joined the buildings. In the coffee line. After we got our coffees, he still managed to sip and spew endless information as we walked back to our cubes.
I took a big sip of my double espresso, mocha, frozen frap with extra whipped cream and sighed contentedly. I tasted every bit of the chocolate yumminess in that one monster sip. Bliss.
“Oh, you got coffee,” Lori Kay greeted us with her usual fake smile. I could tell she fought to keep the smile in place by the way her cheeks twitched to turn down into a frown. Must be hard to be fake all the time. I made no effort to pretend that I was happy to see her. Her commenting on the obvious was a recent pet peeve of mine, which seems to be a common thing among office workers. It’s like they have to hear themselves speak, or make themselves pertinent by walking around and commenting on obvious endeavors.
“Oh, you’re wearing shoes.”
“Oh, you’re typing fast.”
“Oh, you look busy.”
It took most of my self-control to not comment on my obvious observances, of them, which were never very flattering.
Kranston didn’t share my distaste on Lori Kay channeling Captain Obvious. He smiled back a real smile. I liked him more and pitied him in the same moment.
“Yes, oh lawd, can those people make a frap.” Kranston held up his drink as if it was a prize he won.
“I used to love getting those when I was pregnant and didn’t have to worry about calories.” Lori Kay’s smile went from fake to real as Kranston’s cheeks reddened. My first impulse was to dump my calorie filled iced drink on her head. I was proud of my self-control. My mouth on the other hand had no restraint.
“Must be a bitch to have to worry about what you eat and drink all the time. I have a high metabolism,” I slurped loudly. Why waste a yummy drink on someone’s head? Lori Kay’s eyes flicked to me. “If I do gain any weight, it goes straight to my tits.” Kranston choked on his frozen delight and I pointedly looked at Lori Kay’s push-up
bra that wasn’t doing a lot of pushing.
“What’s her deal?” I asked Kranston as she flipped her hair and marched off in the opposite direction.
“Don’t trust her as far as you can throw her,” Kranston said and then blushed as if he couldn’t say a bad word about anyone.
“I get that,” I said with a nod.
“She’s got something going with Charles. We think she’s blackmailing him or something. She can’t do anything wrong and anyone who crosses her ends up fired. ’That’s what happened to Bryan, the guy you replaced. He pissed off Lori Kay and then he’s suddenly fired.”
I knew exactly what Lori Kay had going with Charles. Lunch blowjobs according to my case file. Lori Kay was married with two small children but she found the time to swallow Charles every Tuesday under his desk or in the copy room where they had a lock on the door. It was her job security, or so she rationalized it. She didn’t let him screw her, that was for her husband alone, but what’s a little oral sex between co-workers?
“What did Lori Kay have to say?” Lauren chirped to Kranston as we passed her desk. She looked at me, her eyes distrustful.
“The usual.” Kranston rolled his eyes as if this was a normal script he had with Lauren.
“She’s such a…”
“…bitch.”
“Shut it, Lauren.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you and Pete were fucking!”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Screw that! We’re all best friends, it is my business!” Tears streamed down her face and I felt a terrible pull of guilt deep in my heart. “Because,” I said lamely.
“I don’t even know why I’m friends with you. You’re such a liar,” she cried.
“This is why I didn’t tell you,” I said quietly. “I knew you would freak out.”
“Liar!” she screamed.
“Earth to Cassidy,” Kranston said. I popped out of the memory and blinked as the room came back into focus.
“What? I’m sorry, did you say something?” I asked. Lauren peered at me, her scowl replaced with a constipated look. I knew I had been best friends with her since I was young, but I couldn't drum up any feelings for this woman sitting in front of me. No positive feelings at least.
“I was saying,” Kranston drew out the words in an exaggerated tone, “that you got her good, in your little verbal sparring match. A slight bit tasteless, but still a good one.”
“It’s my first day in this department, I don’t want to get on anyone’s bad side,” I defended, trying to make it seem like my words were less than they were.
“Don’t worry, honey, just by being here you’re on Lori Kay’s bad side. If you can’t help her to the top, she’ll use you as a step.” Then he realized he had voiced something that should have been said somewhere more private. He slapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes bulged. I was starting to like Kranston.
“Welcome to the group, Cassidy,” Lauren drawled, but it didn’t sound welcoming at all.
5
Passive Aggressive Diaries
Marketing people like meetings. Morning meetings. Client meetings via phone thingies that sit in the middle of the table and have a lot of buttons on them. Lunch meetings. After work meetings that include cocktails. Endless amounts of meetings.
If you were going to screw up, you did it in a meeting. If you were going to shine, well, there was a meeting you could shine in. But I learned quickly that you were only as good as the last thing you did. Who cares that you helped a client save a couple thousand and increased their customer retention by ten percent. Your last suggested idea about the social media contest tanked, so you're a bad employee. They always let you know in a meeting too, in front of everyone. I felt sorry for most of my co-workers as they were berated in front of each other by Charles. It hadn't gone in my direction yet. I was too new. But Lori Kay made a point of never leaving me out of the mix. She had a subtle way of insulting me at every meeting.
Tuesday morning meeting:
Lori Kay: “I told my cousin to apply for the open position in Jeremy’s unit, she doesn’t have a degree or any experience, but that seems to be acceptable here now.”
Wednesday pre-client meeting pow wow:
Lori Kay: “Stacey {me, she had taken to calling me the wrong name, like Charles had a habit of doing.}, I had a dress like that, like, ten years ago when I was a little less particular about letting it all hang out.”
Thursday morning meeting:
Lori Kay: “I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to have caught on by now, it’s only been a week.”
By Friday I would have welcomed Phillip back with open arms. You know, my previous case? That Phillip? The one who tried to rape me and sexually harassed me on a daily basis. At least he was upfront. This underhanded passive aggressive bullshit had a way of getting under a person’s skin and eating them from the inside. Every time she came near me my heart sped up and I could feel the adrenaline spiking in my veins. I was gearing up for a fight. I wanted to do small, stupid shit to her to make her pay. Little things like make her car break down, or have her computer shut down in the middle of work with an unsaved document, of course.
I walked by her cubicle.
"Wish I had extra time on my hands so I could just wander around the building too," floated from her chair. I didn't look at her or acknowledge her statement. But her computer sparked and popped and then went blank. Maybe a little overkill, but her instant upset cry had me smiling.
These little things weren't going to cut it, though. I needed to find a solution to this case, and quickly. I hated being here and Lori Kay was in serious need of karmic retribution. I spent most of my days trying to think up something good for her, but my mind kept spinning, nothing good coming to the surface.
There was always the obvious. I could get her fired. I could have her husband discover her dalliances with Charles, which would possibly break up the marriage. Yet, I didn't want to do this. I knew Lori had a golden tongue. I had an intuitive knowledge that she could talk herself out of almost anything. I had to make it stick, whatever I was going to do to her.
“Cassidy, is this your budget report for Maki?” Charles was waving something in front of my face bringing me back to the job. I couldn’t see what he had in his hand because he was moving the paper back and forth too quickly.
“I don’t know, Charles, I need to see it.”
He huffed out a breath and shoved the paper in my face. It looked like the report I had done earlier today. My first initial budget, but there was something off…
“It looks like it, but something…”
“It has your name on it, saved under your jobs folder, where you’re supposed to submit it.” He had attracted the curious with his huffing. I saw my co-workers slyly shift in their chairs, heads turned in our direction, all ears on Charles and me.
“I guess it is,” I gave in.
“It’s preposterous. Did you just make up numbers?”
“No, I used…”
“Five hundred thousand for a monthly billboard advertising campaign when their budget allotment is a quarter of that for the year?”
“I didn’t put that figure,” I said with conviction because I hadn’t.
“Look, I get this is your first one, but this is silly work, haphazard.” he pointed to another figure. “Really, you didn’t even do the math. Ten and five doesn’t add up to thirty, Cassidy.” He shook his head.
“No, really, those are not the figures I put in there. Look, I backed up the files on my hard drive-” He held up a hand to stop me.
“Why can’t you just admit when you’re wrong, Cassidy? This is so juvenile. Don’t do it again or you'll be looking for a new job.”
“Wait, but…” I tried to stop him, but his back was to me and he was walking briskly away, the weird budget proposal in his hand.
I rushed back to my computer and pulled up the file on the shared drive. None of it made sense. The figures were all wrong. Numbers
didn’t add up, the math was sloppy, the numbers crazy as if someone had just punched in fake numbers. I pulled up the file on my hard drive and sure enough, the numbers were all different. Someone had changed all my figures after I uploaded to the shared drive.
I turned around and looked toward Lori Kay’s cubicle. She was standing and talking with her cubicle mate. They both glanced in my direction. Lori Kay smiled a big fat fake smile, her aura pulsed black. Guilty.
6
Playing Around
“Progress report, Cassandra,” Persephone called from her office as I passed. I tried not to preen because she had gotten my name right. Her office was comprised of a big comfy chair on a raised dais. Her weird one-colored minions buzzed back and forth to do her bidding.
“Ma’am?” I stopped and approached her.
“How’s your case?”
“I’m working it.” I tried to hide the annoyance in my tone.
“It’s been a week and there has been no discharge of negative energy from you. Are you actually working it? Or are you playing around in the living world?”
Discharge of negative energy? What did that mean? Did the PTBs collect the negative energy that discharged from people? It would explain some things.
“I want to make sure the proper karma is delivered,” I said in the most demure voice I could muster.
“How hard can it be?” She waved her hand and a paper file appeared in her grasp. She flipped through it and then glanced at me with disdain. “Get her fired, get her husband to leave her. Case closed. I could do your job.”
“No offense, ma’am, but don’t you think that’s too simple of a solution?”
