Bob had that look on his face again. His nose crinkled in a distinct expression of disgust. Disgusted with himself, perhaps. Or more accurately, disgusted with me.
“Carol, the printer is out of paper again,” Bob said. His voice was quiet, but his anger was as clear as the coming storm.
I watched from across the room, one eye peeking from behind my computer. Prepared to snatch it towards the screen should he feel my nosy gaze. Carol, his secretary, and his wife, never uttered a word. She continued tapping away on the keyboard as if he hadn’t spoken.
Yep. This spat was definitely not about the printer.
Maybe it had something to do with that email Bob sent me. The latest of many, actually. The one asking me to go with him to dinner and after dinner we could visit a nice hotel. There was also that last sentence. The one implying that the status of my employment relied on the response.
I decided not to respond at all.
Instead, I went back to work. Checked the rest of my messages and forwarded some important ones to my coworkers. One of them was Carol. I added Janice’s email, the head of HR. It wasn’t until I pressed send that I realized I had forwarded the wrong email. Instead of the quarterly production reports, I sent the invitation to a job-dependent dinner date Bob had sent. Silly me. I make the clumsiest mistakes.
At least that’s what I told Bob when he called me into his office fifteen minutes later. He had the same look that he was wearing now. Eyes squinted. Face red. Nose crinkled. Lips tensed in a snarl.
Bob leaned down on the table on his knuckles; his voice raised this time. “Carol!”
The woman in question swirled in the chair so violently that I thought she would fall out of her seat. She shrieked, “What do you want from me, Robert!”
I stood, evidence in hand. HR had scheduled an appointment with me, and if I waited too long, I’d be late. Down the hall, I heard her shouting but couldn’t understand what was being said. Although Bob deserved this, I hated to be the cause of a lover’s quarrel.
The walk to HR felt longer than it was. I was swerving between guilt and triumph. Was it worth it? I could become the reason Bob lost everything. I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? I stood up for myself. He wrote those emails. Even after I told him, ‘No,’ and ‘Stop trying.’
In the meeting, I gave Janice every inappropriate email Bob sent me. I answered questions and told her my side of the story. I was told there would be an investigation, as was fair.
Upon returning to my seat, I couldn’t help but notice that Bob was gone. He wasn’t even in his office. A small crowd surrounded Carol’s desk. There were shoulder pats, tissues handed, and whispered words of comfort.
Carol looked up as I entered the room. The scowls sent my way caught me off guard. I could understand it from Carol, I suppose. Bob was her husband, and I was interfering with their lives something awful.
The gathered crowd shot eye daggers at me. Like I was a snarling, rabid animal.
I sat at my desk timidly, glancing between them and the work I had left. Maybe they hadn’t heard the whole story. No need to do anything, the office gossip would bark up my tree soon enough.
Just as expected, after the crowd dispersed from Carol’s desk, Richard sauntered over.
“Hi, Rebecca. Heard you got into some trouble?” Richard said. That was the one and only thing I liked about the guy. He always got straight to the point.
Annoyance crept up and almost leaped from my mouth in the form of a, ‘Are you freakin’ kidding me?!’ But my calm prevailed. I struggled to find the words, mindful that HR asked me to keep the matter private.
“Well…” I hesitated, crossing my arms, “Well, someone sent me emails asking for something inappropriate and implied that could lose my job if I declined.”
Richard’s frowned, the worry lines making him look older than he was, “Oh.” He said, seemed genuinely surprised.
“What?”
“I just…heard something different.” He said, “Thought you were the one sending inappropriate emails.”
I snorted, “No, I have all the emails to prove it.”
“Wow,” Richard said. “Sorry about that, Becca.”
I shook my head, “No need for you to be sorry. You didn’t send the emails.”
We small-talked for a bit before he walked away. His gait was more determined now that he had fresh gossip. An hour passed, and harsh glares turned into sympathetic smiles.
A weird Monday, sure. A terrible start to the week. But nothing compared to the week after. HR requested a visit and I went enthusiastically, assuming it had something to do with my harassment case.
It did alright. Janice informed me the investigation was over, and no evidence of Mister Robert Dawson harassing me was found. To top it off, oh so beautifully, I was being let go for discussing the details of the harassment case when told not to.
I stared at Janice as if she was mentioning the weather, too shocked to feel anything, like my soul had to step away from my body to process the news. To her credit, Janice gave me the time I needed. She even had the decency to look guilty.
After many moments she broke.
“Look, I know it’s unfair,” she said in a hushed tone. “But Mister Dawson has friends in high places. But don’t worry. When you’re looking for a new job, I’ll give you an excellent reference.”
“Oh, wonderful!” I exclaimed, aiming for genuine, but it came out as sarcastic as I felt. Janice cringed, looking down at her worn, pleather shoes. I thought I had more to say, maybe my soul was still taking a walk. Or perhaps I realized it wasn’t entirely her fault. Bob was powerful, his friends more so. Janice was being toyed with as I had been.
Standing with as much dignity as I could muster, I said, “Well, I suppose I better gather my things.”
A sheepish look settled on Janice’s round, aged face. She squirmed, looking between me and the other side of the room. “We took the liberty of cleaning your desk. Your things are in the corner.” She said as she slid the letter of termination across the table.
I turned, following her sight. A box of my few desk possessions was strewn haphazardly against the wall. My soul tapped me on the shoulder, informing me that anger was starting to bubble up. Somehow, I kept the anger in check. Maybe I was overcome with the indignity of it all.
Actually, no. There was no way I was going to grab my things and shamefully shuffle out of this building.
I was down the hall before I truly realized I was walking, ignoring Janice calling my name. Entering the work area, I saw Bob standing at the door to his office. A charming smile, and a sly wink as he chatted up a woman I didn’t recognize. Probably my replacement.
Carol stared intensely at her screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard without a single clack of typing. No longer ignorant and no longer blameless.
Bob had been out of the office during the week of investigation. Seeing his face again, so chipper and unharmed, made the anger in me froth and simmer.
Bob saw me thundering into the room, his smile dropped. My ex-coworkers went silent, pretending to work. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I stood there, glaring at his ugly face.
He smiled again. Victorious. “I see you’ve heard. Goodbye, Rebecca.”
That bastard.
I guess my soul decided to rejoin my body at that exact moment. I don’t remember grabbing the flowerpot on the accent table beside me. But when I saw it hurling through the air, I knew I had thrown it.
If Bob had moved a fraction slower, it would have hit him. Somewhere deep in my soul, I was grateful it hadn’t. I probably would have faced charges if it had. For now, when the ceramic pot crashed and shattered against the wall, pieces falling to the floor, I was enraged at my lousy aim.
The crowd stopped pretending to work. They stood at their desks, gasping and whispering surprises. My replacement jumped back and kept inching away as if she thought I was there for her. I saw the flicker of Carol’s cardigan as she left the room.
“Fuck you!” I yelled. I don’t know if I was yelling at Bob or everyone in the room. Or maybe throwing my voice at Carol’s back. I turned to leave, shoving Janice and her dropped jaw out of my way.
I could probably kiss that “excellent reference” goodbye, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t over. Armed with the emails Bob had sent me, the letter of termination, and the constitutional right to inform the press, I was ready for battle.
They had declared war. But I was going to win it.