Submission

by Robin Roseau

  "I have parking in the basement."

  "Then it won't be so far if one of them walks you to your car."

  "I've never had any trouble-"

  "Give me one good reason why you're arguing with me about this."

  "Um. If I leave before morning, I'll take an escort."

  "Good choice," she replied.

  We made it most of the way back to the office before I stopped her. "Miranda, do you understand why people do this?"

  "Intellectually, but not emotionally," she said. "I understand lashing out."

  "Whoever is doing it is lashing out at me and the guys," I said. "And, apparently, you."

  "Whoever is doing it is lashing out at Branson and figures any employees caught in the crossfire probably deserve it for working here."

  "We build good, safe products," I replied. "They aren't sexy. But they also aren't complicated. Someone's mad because a set of crutches didn't fit right?"

  "Have you checked if any other companies are under attack at the same time?"

  "There are always low grade attacks," I replied. "We're under constant attack, but it's trivial. No one has reported anything significant."

  "I'm sorry. I don't have answers for you. I don't think that way, either."

  I nodded, and we turned into the building.

  * * * *

  She didn't walk me back to my desk. Instead, she led me to her office then gestured. There was a cot waiting, much like you might use camping along with sheets and blankets. And on her table were fresh toiletries -- tooth brushes still in their packages, toothpaste, and the like.

  "It's not much," she said. "It's your choice if you think it's safe to go home, but if you don't, I wanted to make another option available."

  Perhaps she could have ordered me home, but I actually wouldn't have appreciated it. I would have fretted, and when things turned bad, I'd be too far away to respond quickly. Maybe someone else would have felt she was taking advantage of my devotion to work, but I didn't see it that way.

  I thought of it as thoughtfulness, and I was touched. I thanked her.

  "I thought about ordering you home."

  "I'd rather you didn't."

  She smiled. "That's why I brought this."

  I thanked her again.

  * * * *

  Miranda left at midnight with directions to call her if anything critical happened.

  Davis showed up a half hour later. I sent Eddie home and told him I didn't want him back until morning.

  I checked time zone maps and turned to Davis. "I'm going to get some sleep. Will you be okay?"

  "Sure," he said.

  "Wake me at four or if something happens." I paused. "This is going to heat up again at five."

  I was off by a ninety minutes. It began turning ugly again at 6:30. Our attacker found our back door and began to hammer on it. I was expecting it and already had my response determined. It took a call to the ISP to route all that traffic to the front door -- the same door he'd been hammering on for 24 hours. The ISP gave us four more addresses for our back door, and I assigned different types of traffic to each address.

  Then I called Miranda and gave her a status update.

  "Now what?"

  "Now we wait and see if he finds one of the back doors. If he does, that tells us something about how he found it."

  "All right. I'm leaving shortly. Have you guys had breakfast?"

  I laughed. "You're not serious, are you?"

  "How do waffles sound?"

  "Where are you going to get waffles?"

  "I'll bring a waffle maker."

  "You're going to cook for us?"

  "Yep."

  * * * *

  The attack lasted two and a half days. I went home each morning just long enough to shower and change clothes. Other than that and two or three walks with Miranda each day, I didn't leave the office.

  Miranda was great. She kept everyone else away from us. She provided a steady stream of meals, snacks, and caffeinated beverages the entire time. The second night, she left earlier, but she came back shortly after midnight and told me to get some sleep. "I'll watch things for a few hours."

  When the attack ended, it wasn't like turning off a light. It was more like turning off a fan. It went slower and slower, taking a few hours before our traffic went back to its normal level. And then we waited a few more hours before we declared it as "over".

  Miranda took a look at me and declared me "unfit to drive". She had her assistant, Jane, drive me home in my car; I didn't see who picked Jane up.

  I barely got my clothes off before I collapsed in bed. My last thought were, "Maybe I can work with her after all."

  Life is Hell

  I was wrong, but it would take time before it became obvious.

  Perhaps it should have been obvious. In spite of the support she gave us, not once did she tell us we did a good job. Not once did she thank us for our devotion. She did more than I would have expected to help us manage the attack, to do our jobs. But while I thanked her time and time again, she didn't thank any of us, not once.

  The first sign that all was not rosy came during the department heads meeting two weeks after the DDoS attack. Virgil was in attendance. When we got to me, I gave my standard, brief report, referring everyone to the network statistics I kept on the intranet for more details. When I asked if there were questions, Miranda stood back up.

  "I would like to know what steps you're taking to prevent future DDoS attacks like the one that crippled our company two weeks ago."

  She caught me off guard.

  "Excuse me?"

  "It is your job to ensure the reliability and performance of our network, but we went for more than two days with degraded systems. Every single person in the company was affected. You told me personally that this wasn't our first attack; indeed, you suggested we are under constant attack. I want to know what you're doing to prevent a repeat occurrence."

  I was a deer in the headlights, and I reacted about as well as one. "I-"

  I didn't even defend myself. I stood there, saying nothing. I didn't think of any of the things I thought up later. And so I stood there, saying absolutely nothing.

  Finally she frowned. "Perhaps you aren't the right person to be in charge of such critical infrastructure."

  At that, I did entirely the wrong thing. I fled. Yet again.

  * * * *

  "It was just so unfair!" I said to Aphrodite several hours later. "I can't prevent attacks. No one can. All I can do is respond to them. Sure, if I install a bigger network, it takes a bigger attack to hurt us, but I don't have the budget for that."

  I ranted at Aphrodite for a long time. She didn't complain about my language.

  And I may have gotten a tiny bit tipsy.

  I managed to make it to work in the morning, expecting to be fired on arrival, or at least called to Miranda's office for a through lecture.

  But maybe she was right. Maybe there were things I should be doing. Maybe I had no business in my position.

  Miranda had successfully planted the seeds of self-doubt.

  * * * *

  There was no lecture. I didn't get fired. On the other hand, no one stopped by to tell me Miranda had been out of line, either. I decided that meant everyone agreed with her.

  I began creeping around the office, keeping my head down whenever I left my cube. I plugged in my phone every time, stuffing the ear buds into my ears so I wouldn't hear any whispers about me.

  I skipped the next department heads meeting. No one said a word. But when I skipped a second one, that resulted in a summons to Miranda's office. When I got there, both Miranda and Anita, from Human Resources, were waiting at Miranda's conference table. Miranda gestured to the waiting seat, and I took it quietly.

  "I would like to know why you missed the last two department head meetings."

  I lowered my gaze and didn't say a word. I felt about fourteen years old and like I was sitting in the principal's office, and I withdrew into
myself.

  They let me sit there for a good thirty seconds, no one saying anything, before Miranda asked, "Are you going to answer my question?"

  "I'm not a department head," I said softly, not looking up. "I'm just a network tech."

  "You are the senior network tech," Miranda said, "and the acting department head."

  "I don't want to be a department head," I said. "I never wanted to be a department head. I just want to do my job and have everyone leave me alone."

  "Everyone has portions of their job they don't care for," Miranda said. "I, for instance, don't particularly enjoy this type of meeting."

  "I don't think well when everyone is looking at me," I said. "I don't think well when put on the spot. I don't think well when my manager blindsides me in front of the entire department."

  "That is hogwash," Miranda said. "A lame excuse. I watched you for two days. You were cool, calm and collected while fighting off the denial of service attack. You think plenty fast."

  "That's different," I said. "Computers don't judge."

  "So now you're calling me judgmental?" Miranda asked.

  If the shoe fits, I almost said. "People judge," I said quietly. "I wasn't being specific."

  Perhaps Miranda was going to reply, but Anita put her hand on Miranda's arm for a moment. The two were silent for a moment, but then Miranda said, "For as long as you are the acting department head, I require you to act like it. That includes attending department head meetings and answering my questions when I ask them. I do not believe anything I've asked you should have been that much of a surprise."

  "Fine," I said quietly.

  "I have a letter for your file," Anita said. She slipped two pieces of paper to me. "Sign one signifying you have received a copy and understand it."

  I read the letter. I was being censured for insubordination.

  I began crying quietly while I read it. I signed it without a word, took my copy, and walked out of Miranda's office.

  She had initiated the procedures to fire me.

  * * * *

  I immediately began looking for a new job. I wasn't going to stay where I wasn't wanted. I certainly wasn't going to continue to work for that bitch any longer than I had to.

  I found job postings. There are always openings in technology fields. But everything I found was either a significant step down or would require me to work with people.

  I hated working with people.

  I began applying anyway.

  * * * *

  I continued to do my job. I showed up at department head meetings and gave five-second status updates, promptly sitting down without asking if there were questions. I few times, there were questions, anyway. If I felt comfortable answering, I did. If I wasn't comfortable, I said I would formulate a response and get back to her with the answer.

  I got away with it.

  We had another person begin to consume too much bandwidth. I didn't tell Miranda. Instead, I figured out who it was and placed a "friendly" phone call, introducing myself and then chatting quietly about how easy it is to tell when someone is watching cat videos on Youtube. Then I thanked the person and hung up.

  As best I could tell, that person amended his habits.

  * * * *

  I went on a job interview. The title was Senior Network Engineer, but ten minutes into the interview, I could tell the company was avoiding the title manager simply to keep the salary down. It was obvious to both of us the position was a poor fit. I actually interrupted the interview, admitted flat out I wasn't much of a people person, and told the interviewer to keep me in mind if a more appropriate position should open up.

  I didn't expect to hear back.

  * * * *

  Branson does formal performance evaluations every October. I had never been fond of evaluations, but this year was to take the cake.

  Miranda ordered me to prepare evaluations for Davis, Eddie and Kent. I told her I wasn't qualified. She told me to do it anyway, then reminded me I couldn't do them anywhere someone could see me. So I ended up doing them at home, agonizing well into the evenings and making myself sick with it.

  Branson also has each employee perform a self-evaluation. I disliked that as much as doing evaluations for the guys. But at least that I could do at work. I tried to be as honest as I was capable, giving myself high marks for dedication and effectiveness and low marks for interpersonal communication.

  Miranda, Anita and I met in Miranda's office to go over the evaluations for the guys. Anita said little. Miranda informed me I had done a poor job, and I quietly said, "That's why I can't be the department head. I keep telling everyone that. Why doesn't anyone listen to me?"

  In the end, Miranda downgraded the scores for the guys. She told me they were inflated and I clearly was incapable of being objective.

  I had thought I had been fair, and I had spent a great deal of time over it besides. I didn't say a word.

  But the worst part was this: she made me perform their evaluations while she sat in. She barely said a word, but she told me in no uncertain terms how important it was we present a united front.

  United front, hell. I ran the reviews the way she ordered, but I quietly told each of them later, "I'm sorry. The numbers I presented were higher, but Miranda adjusted all of them. I'm really sorry."

  They each told me they understood, no hard feelings, but I didn't think they believed me. They got poor reviews, and they each thought it was my fault. Of that, I was sure.

  Then it came time for my own review. Yet again, I sat in a meeting with Miranda and Anita. Yet again, I left, crying. And I had to give up my parking pass, too.

  At home that night, I called Elliott, my old boss.

  "I'm sorry about calling you at home."

  "Not at all," he said. "How are things at Branson?"

  "Well... I wouldn't suppose you have a job for me."

  He was quiet for a moment. "I can't," he said finally. "I'm sorry. I signed an agreement I wouldn't hire anyone away."

  I didn't say a word for a minute or so, but I started to cry. Again.

  "Hey," he said quietly. "Cassidy. What's going on?"

  I almost told him everything. Instead all I said was, "Your replacement wants me gone. She has had it in for me literally since the moment we met." I told him about some of it. "Elliott, you always gave me good reviews. If I was so bad at my job-"

  "Cassidy," he interrupted. "You are not bad at your job. You are insanely good at your job. If you weren't so deeply introverted, you could be running half the company."

  "I don't want to run the company. I don't want any of that. I just want to do my job. The job I had when I worked for you."

  "I know," he said.

  "Did you really sign an agreement not to hire anyone, or are you just saying that so you don't have to hire me."

  "Oh Cassidy," he said. "Yes. For three years I can't hire any current employees of Branson Medical Devices. You would have to quit for at least six months. Then I could hire you."

  "So if I quit tomorrow, I'll have a job in six months?"

  Again he paused. Then he said, "Cassidy, I take my promises seriously. I can't talk to you about a job."

  I thought about it. "You didn't say no."

  "No," he said. "I didn't say no." He took a breath. "Cassidy, you're phenomenal at your job. Don't let what is going on now convince you otherwise."

  "Does your agreement with Branson talk about letters of recommendation?"

  "No," he said. "It does not. It also does not prevent me from giving you the most glorious reference if anyone calls me. How does the phrase walks on water sound?"

  We talked for a few more minutes. He took my address down, and two days later an amazingly glowing reference letter arrived.

  * * * *

  I wasn't quite willing to quit without something else lined up, and so I continued to look for positions elsewhere.

  Last spring, I had also planned a Thanksgiving weekend cruise. It was already paid for, and while I would
have preferred to save the money, I took the trip.

  It was billed as a gay-friendly singles cruise. I tried to have a good time, but it was the first vacation I'd taken in years that wasn't "perfect".

  Miranda had even taken away my ability to enjoy a vacation properly.

  The End

  I got back to work on Monday morning. Twenty minutes after I arrived, Jane stopped by my desk. "Miranda wants you in the conference room."

  "Right now?"

  "Yes."

  I grabbed my tablet.

  When I arrived, Miranda, Anita, and some man I didn't know were waiting. The three of them were talking, but they noticed my arrival and turned to me.

  "Close the door," Miranda said.

  I sighed. I wondered if I were about to be fired.

  I closed the door and crossed the room. I didn't look at any of them, but then Miranda said, "Cassidy Ellis, I would like to introduce you to Fletcher Walton."

  I shook hands with him.

  "Let's all sit," Miranda said. I found myself on opposite sides of the conference table from the three of them.

  "Am I being fired?" I immediately asked.

  "No. Why would you think that?" Miranda said immediately. She didn't wait for a response. "However, I'm making some changes that I think should fit everyone much better. Today is Fletcher's first day. He is our new Manager of Information Networks."

  "I see," I replied. "Welcome aboard, Fletcher."

  "Thank you."

  "I'll need you to show him around," Miranda went on. "Give him access to everything he needs, et cetera. I'm sure you'll be very welcoming."

  "Of course."

  "We think this is for the best," she continued. "As you have said repeatedly, you're uncomfortable with many of the tasks I've asked of you. I agree with your self-assessment. To that end, there will be an adjustment in your job title and duties." She slipped a piece of paper to me.

  The title was listed as Network Technician, the same title the other guys had, a title I hadn't had for over six years. I stared at it.

  "I see," I said quietly.

  "I'm sure you'll agree this is for the best."

  I didn't say a word.