Tinsel In A Tangle

by Ainslie Paton

  The next few weeks were a little rocky for Dave, Christina, and both of their teams since the couple reconciled only to fall apart again—fortunately not in the bathroom this time—and everyone had an opinion about them.

  Dave was a dickhead.

  Christina was a hardcase.

  They were a car crash. Good thing they broke up.

  They were made for each other. We should help them get back together.

  There was a collective gasp when they argued across the tops of the workstation spine, and Shelby had to step in and remind them of their responsibilities. It was an uncomfortable conversation for everyone.

  Back in the bad old days, companies banned office romances, but since you couldn’t stop people being attracted to each other, affairs went underground. People snuck around and kept it quiet, and since the woman was always the one asked to leave if a romance was discovered, not being caught was once a serious thing, instead of a half-baked notion.

  Shelby could never be sure the office didn’t have its fair share of one-night stands and full on flings, but if it did, the other couples had worked out how to do it on the sly. Good for them. So when Felix wanted to restructure the product development team, effectively demoting Christina, she saw red.

  ‘It’s not a demotion,’ he said when he showed her the new structure. On paper it certainly didn’t look like one, and Christina wasn’t about to lose salary, but she’d lose authority, and that was a demotion in whatever outfit you dressed it in.

  ‘We can’t do that,’ she said.

  ‘We have to do something, since you’ve failed to get the two of them to act professionally.’

  Harsh but also real. ‘I’m not a relationship counsellor,’ she groused.

  ‘HR is about relationships. Since you failed to create a solution to this and the two teams are dysfunctional because of it, I need a better suggestion than “we can’t restructure”,’ Felix said.

  ‘It will settle down.’ Dave was due to take leave and that would help reset things.

  Felix quit playing with his fidget cube and glared at her. ‘Instead of finding a solution, your strategy is hope and a prayer. And in the meantime, we’re losing productivity and morale has taken a hit. Stella and I didn’t build this company on wait and see.’ He slid the new organisational chart across his desk to her. ‘Make this work.’

  She’d have argued, but he had an infuriating way of being largely right about the big picture at the same time as he was wrong about the detail. He had a knack for making her feel ineffective and weak for not knowing how to make him see other sides to the story.

  She stormed into the print room to make a copy of the org chart, taking her frustration out on the copier by poking the print screen extra hard. She’d talk to Christina first and then to Dave, one last time before she forced a restructure on both their teams. She wasn’t weak, and she wasn’t ineffective, but it was easy for a big, loud person who was higher up the chain than she was to make her feel that way. Felix’s plan was almost as disruptive as the broken romance had been. There had to be another way and she’d find it. Not that he’d thank her for it.

  Copies of the chart in hand she turned to leave the print room, eyes down on the page filled with little boxes, lines and arrows connecting them. She didn’t see Adam until almost too late, his boots appearing in her line of sight right before they near collided, her printed pages smooshing against his stomach, her forehead almost bumping his shoulder.

  ‘Whoa,’ he said, so softly and so close to her ear it made her shiver.

  Boots, blue jeans, a black shirt, the cuffs rolled back, the swell of his chest, the wide span of his shoulders. That neat beard lining his jaw and filling in his cheeks, the soft lips framed by it, the gentle eyes, and a brow wrinkled in expectation of her response. He’d put lime and basil in her water jug this morning. He smelled like green trees after a thunderstorm.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he said.

  No, her inability to step back made her feel ineffective, and his long dark eyelashes made her feel weak, and that was incredibly irritating. She was allowed to have a favourite colleague, but she wasn’t allowed to show it, and Adam had been her favourite since he started in January. By halfway through the year, the only way not to show it was to avoid being alone with him.

  And yet she didn’t step back, just breathed him in, weak in her resolve and ineffective in her will, and smiling all over her body, in all the secret places no one could see, where favouritism was allowed to grow ripe and flower and spark indecent thoughts in the quiet moments before she dropped off to sleep.

  Adam shifted to put some space between them. ‘Did I step on you? You came out of there like the room was on fire and I wasn’t quick enough to avoid you.’

  ‘I’m good.’ A near collision shouldn’t make her feel lighter and more capable. Adam shouldn’t make her think about clandestine couplings away from gossip-greedy eyes.

  ‘You’re sure? Your printing got scrunched.’

  Better that than her heart. ‘Lime and basil.’

  He shrugged and stepped aside. ‘No idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘At least let me kick in for the fruit and veg.’

  He’d moved past her by the time she got that out and the only indication he’d heard was the slight turn of his head, the crooked hitch of his smile.

  The fact she aced her meetings with Christina and Dave, got them to agree to a truce, a return to normal work behaviour instead of a restructure was no surprise, except to Felix. A half smile, given reluctantly, went a long way to making her feel unbeatable.

  Half smiles from impossible crushes didn’t make a career though, and they were about to enter the most anxious time of the year, the annual performance review period.

  For Shelby it was three weeks of planning, working back late, chasing paperwork and soothing egos. For everyone else it was the dread of having to find constructive ways to give and take feedback without resorting to meaningless platitudes—Muhammad always does excellent work, or hurtful opinions—Arnie needs to shup up about Mortal Combat because no one is interested in violent video games about killing people.

  If she survived the reviews this year without an argument with Felix, it would be an outstanding achievement. Knowing that was unlikely should’ve meant it wasn’t disappointing when a dispute smacked her upside the head.

  It was early evening of week one, and the two of them were last in the office. When Felix suggested doing her own review then and there over a plate of guacamole instead of when it was scheduled in week two, she almost baulked, but it would be good to dry run the process before everyone else did it, and the call of the avocado and sour cream was strong.

  They settled in the kitchen, the guac and a bowl of corn chips between them. Everyone else would book a private meeting room for their discussion.

  The first half of the review went well. It was mostly scores against key job competencies and Shelby’s were as expected. Not five out of five, Felix was stingy and said no one’s performance was ever perfect, but certainly in the above average category, which was pleasing.

  The second half of the review was designed as a more fluid discussion. It was supposed to be the valuable part where people learned about how they could get more satisfaction out of their jobs, but it could also be where things went off the rails if the reviewer wasn’t careful.

  Careful to Felix was shark to crowded beach.

  And Shelby was chum.

  They went off the rails, ploughed up the sand, and got buried in salty verbal combat.

  He opened with, ‘Although your day-to-day performance is good, you need to adopt a more professional attitude.’

  That was it for the guac, it was no longer delicious. She abandoned her pursuit of a corn chip. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You’re too friendly.’ Felix scooped, crunched, double dipped, then licked his finger while she waited. ‘You have almost no authority. And you have obvious politics.’

&n
bsp; This from a man who used his relationship with Stella as the basis of his own authority and had a cabal of mates who always had the inside track on what was happening in the company before it happened.

  She used the line she coached others to use when their feedback was confusing. ‘Can you give me an example of that?’

  ‘You always side with the women.’

  Their population was seventy percent male. ‘I don’t think I do that.’

  ‘You sided with Christina.’

  ‘No, I was even-handed. There was no need to take a side. It wasn’t even a real work problem.’ He was steamed that she didn’t execute his restructure plan, that’s what this was about. And now she was steamed. Reviews were not about airing petty grievances. ‘Can you give me an example of my lack of authority?’

  He lunged at the corn chip bowl. ‘I don’t want to totally destroy your confidence.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ She had to cough that out.

  With a full mouth and a slimy green tongue, he said, ‘Half the time I have to finish your work for you.’

  It came out mumbled, but it was a direct hit on her competence. Never, he never had to do that. ‘That’s not true. You’re mad I didn’t do your re-org.’

  ‘Do I look mad?’ He went for another corn chip as if he’d never borne a grudge in his life. ‘I guess I expect too much from you. I shouldn’t assume you can upskill to work you’re not well-suited to. It’s unfair of me.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’ That was some twisted mix of not about her, insulting, damaging and cruel to boot. But she’d made a mistake by raising her voice. She pinched the skin between her thumb and first finger as a reminder to keep it together. Shouting at Felix would only make him decide she was too volatile or too emotional or too whatever it was he didn’t think was effective because—because—because, she had no idea what his problem with her was.

  ‘Have you considered going back to uni for more training?’

  ‘Wait, I don’t understand what you’re saying.’ Her heart understood the conversation had moved into fight or flight territory, it was hiccupping hard against her ribs. ‘What part of my job am I not suited for?’

  He waved a corn chip. ‘These are general comments. It should be clear I’m saying you have room to improve.’

  Clear as the mucky water in Shelby’s bucket when she’d mopped her kitchen floor. He’d given her above average gradings on all of her job performance criteria, and now he was casually attacking her in the vaguest way while he chowed down. ‘How are you dissatisfied? Nothing you’re saying shows in my scores.’

  He pulled the bowl of guac towards him. ‘You’re taking it too literally.’

  ‘This is my performance review and you’re questioning my abilities, what other way is there to take it?’

  He smirked and then stuffed his face with a clump of avocado. ‘You need to practice your listening skills. They’re bloody vital for a people person.’

  ‘I’m listening, but I don’t understand you.’

  He gave a dramatic sigh and looked at the celling. ‘Shelby, you’re making this harder than it needs to be. I’m just saying you need to act more professionally.’

  No amount of skin pinching was helping. She threw her hands up. ‘How?’ Up went her voice too, making her sound frantic, how she felt, but not the emotion she wanted to show him. She tried never to let him see he was getting to her. It only gave him more ammunition to work with.

  He shrugged as if he hadn’t considered he’d need backup data. ‘You could dress differently.’

  If her face got any hotter, she could roast the guac just by looking at the bowl. ‘What does that mean?’ They were a casual office, and even on the big event dress-up days she was careful not to look ridiculous because she knew she was held to a higher standard. She’d already planned her Melbourne Cup day outfit. Not a micro miniskirt or fascinator in sight. Jockey silks all the way.

  ‘Aw, you’re upset.’

  He said that like it was one of the world’s greatest mysteries, instead of having poked and prodded her into anger. He couldn’t be that clueless, so it must be deliberate.

  ‘You’re not being clear, and it is upsetting me, and you meant it to.’

  He scrapped a corn chip around the edge of the bowl, making it squeak. He didn’t even look at her. She’d just made mistake number two by calling him out.

  ‘Don’t be such a big girl,’ he said.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ She shouted that. The lid was off her temper. ‘You did not just say that like it means something. My gender has nothing to do with how I do my job, but you wanted to insult me. It’s unfair and unreasonable,’ and since Felix was snivelling, she said, ‘and you know that, but you did it anyway. It’s juvenile and—’

  ‘Is everything okay in here?’

  Mistake number three, thinking they were alone in the office. Adam stood in the doorway, a mug dangling from his fingers.

  ‘I didn’t know anyone was here,’ she said, startled. How much had he heard? Embarrassment burned a hot hole in her chest.

  Adam didn’t move any further into the room. He was staring Felix out, but that didn’t make her feel any better. Of all people to spring her in a situation where she’d lost her cool it had to be Adam who never lost his.

  ‘We’re done here,’ Felix said, standing.

  Adam leaned on the doorjamb. ‘I interrupted.’ He was going to make it hard for Felix to leave and they were not done here, but she didn’t want an audience. ‘Shelby was speaking.’

  ‘We probably interrupted you,’ she said, getting to her feet and shuffling her papers into a pile. ‘We’ll finish this in Felix’s office and let you make your coffee.’

  Maybe the look Adam gave her said are you sure, and maybe it just said, great I need my caffeine fix. She much preferred the latter because she didn’t need him as a witness to the fact she’d been ranting at her boss.

  Adam moved first, going to the coffee machine and letting Felix shuffle around him and leave.

  She took a second to clear up, taking the bowls to the sink and scraping the leftovers into the garbage. ‘I’m sorry you heard that. It’s nothing to worry about. Robust discussion,’ she said with an attempt to laugh it off. ‘We often argue things out.’

  That would’ve worked on just about everyone else and just about anyone else wouldn’t have made her feel like a dope for what was essentially a defence of Felix and what he’d done to her. But there was something about Adam and the way he quietly assessed the world and saw all the people in it, saw her, in a way no one else did, that made her squirm under his regard.

  There was no misinterpreting the look he gave her this time. He wasn’t buying. He’d made no attempt to make coffee either, had put his mug in the dishwasher. He took the bowl she was holding out of her hand. ‘I’ve got this. Go do what you need to do.’

  She couldn’t get out of the kitchen fast enough and she was half way across the room chased by bewildering shame and rancid fury before he said, ‘Don’t let the bastard get you down, Shelby.’

  Which told her two things. He had heard more than her raised voice and he’d come to check she was okay. It was sweet, and it was also humiliating in a way she couldn’t explain, except to realise she cared what Adam thought about her.

  Quick as she was to follow Felix, he was nowhere to be found and she went home feeling like a Chinese dumpling steamed too long—congealed and sticky and stuck. If she backed Felix into a corner to continue the discussion he’d call her pig-headed, a dog gnawing a bone, or he’d pretend not to know what she was talking about.

  It wasn’t the first time they’d disagreed passionately and left things unresolved, but every time it happened it hollowed out a part of her enthusiasm for the job. Maybe it was time to move on. Find a boss who didn’t have a problem with her being a big girl, who could celebrate her competence instead of fearing she might be after his job.

  An office without Felix would be a delight.
It would also be an office without Adam and his water-jug-filling, shout-investigating, gentle eyes and caring ways, and that shouldn’t make any difference to her thinking.

  It really shouldn’t.

  It took her the rest of the week working back to wonder what Adam was working on that had him working back too. For the next four nights, they were the last to leave, locking up and riding the lift to the street together. He never mentioned the fight in the kitchen, so she let it slide with him, the same way she let it slide with Felix, except that for the rest of the week she wore t-shirts with girl power slogans on them. Starting with I run like a girl, try to keep up, moving on through Girls just wanna have fundamental human rights and The future is female, to Nevertheless she persisted and ending with Nasty women get things done.

  Felix got the point. Not that he was cured. He was still a gaslighter and a bully, but she felt a whole lot better about things, especially since her formal written review didn’t mention any of her supposed failings. It did make that whole argument and t-shirt protest pointless, but she’d take it.

  And Adam stopped working back late a week later, about the same time she did. Curious that.

  It was another fortnight before she spoke with him again. She’d woken with a head cold and was seriously snuffly with a voice that was all Miss Piggy after an all-nighter of alcoholic nightcaps. He arrived at her cubicle with a hot lemon drink.

  ‘You should be at home,’ he said, putting the mug in front of her.

  How did he even know she felt bad? ‘It’s just a cold.’

  ‘You’re pale, you look like you didn’t sleep well, and you sound terrible. You’re a walking germ factory.’

  She picked up the mug. She was so stuffed up she couldn’t smell the lemon. It was a little unnerving that Adam had paid that much attention to her to know she felt sick. ‘You just don’t want to catch my germs.’

  ‘You’ve got that right. Please go home. We promise not to trash the place while you’re gone.’

  A voice from over the cubicle spine said, ‘Do what Adam says, Shelby, or it’ll be a sickie fest and you’ll have to fumigate the whole office.’