The Corporate Bitch

by J. J. R.

  My first meeting is with Jock, Pawn, and Vain. Together they make up the sales, merchandising and analytics team. They are the most heavily involved group with marketing, helping to deliver needs to our practices and anticipate customer expectations.

  I’m fully prepared. I’ve brought samples of past campaigns and pulled competitor materials. I’m parked at the end of the long conference table, typing enthusiastically on my laptop when they enter the room.

  “Hi there,” I say and stand to greet them.

  They give each other a bit of a sideways glance, as if to say something. I can’t read their expressions.

  Oh god, please don’t be a clique.

  “Hi,” they all say simultaneously and take a seat. I look from smiling face to smiling face.

  Pawn seems sweet, not quite simple, but more real than the others. She has a classic bob of brunette hair, a pop of rosy blush and mascara, and is wearing a Peter Pan collar under a plain grey dress. I think of all three of them, I have the best opportunity of connecting with her. I imagine she has a kind heart based on her easy smile.

  Jock is by far the least polished. She has pulled her long dark brown hair that is highlighted with premature streaks of grey into a bun. She has a very clean looking face with very tiny features and not a trace of makeup. You can tell she has the whole low key thing going on, being a mom and all, but her clothes really leave something to be desired. She is wearing a flowing white blouse over grey pants and I’m not entirely sure she is wearing a bra.

  Vain on the other hand may be polished, but she is all chest and plump lips. Big, bright blonde curls wrap around her very pretty face. She is petite but curvy and I’ve only ever seen her wear dresses that hug her waist and are about an inch too short. She is all leg and wears the definition of killer heels. I’m not going to lie—I tend to get lost in her va va voom when she enters the room. I’m sure she’s incredibly smart.

  Stop it, Mel! You are judging. These women are hardworking and have earned their way into this room. Don’t you dare diminish their intelligence with physical appearance judgment.

  I am mortified at my internal behavior. This is the last way I should be treating them. Okay, I’m sorry. This is why women are the worst. I vow to be different. Back to business.

  “Thanks for meeting me. I really wanted to pull you guys together to hear your thoughts, opinions, areas of opportunities, big ideas, you name it on the previous marketing plan. We are officially open for business for feedback and I have to tell you, I am delighted to be here.”

  They laugh a little. Good, I broke the ice. “So, I’ve prepared some samples for you of our current work and—”

  “You are eager!” Vain interrupts and shifts in her chair to give her boobs more of a boost.

  “Yes, thank you,” I say. I’m trying to impress them, but maybe I sound like a robot? I try again. “Sorry guys, I’m just a little nervous. I really am excited to be here and value your opinion.” Stiff, but better. I’m more human now.

  “Well, we’re glad you are here too. When Puppet Master told us about you, she made sure we knew you were the right fit for the job.” Pawn smiles widely. She has such a nice smile, comforting in fact.

  I relax a little. These women are awesome. No reason to be nervous.

  Jock leans forward in interest, “Why don’t you walk us through your samples. We all have opinions here, you can count on that, but we want to hear what you have to say first. You have to hear the play before you can make changes.”

  “Nothing major,” Pawn interrupts. “Just some things we have been asking for a while. Your predecessor was very busy.”

  Jock snorts and I am instantly curious. Every time she lets out that deep throaty laugh, it is a dead giveaway she is making fun of someone. And although she’s nice, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with how obvious she is with her opinions. Clearly, they didn’t like the former director.

  “Not a good listener either. You’re already doing a way better job,” Vain smiles.

  I spend the next hour talking to them about merchandising display needs, website changes, brochures they have been dying for, and ideas they’ve seen from around the city. They have so many ideas. Good ones but a lot. I spend the hour scribbling and nodding understandingly as they talk about former, unheard requests.

  Jock has needed better reporting from social media and recent SEO contracts with our outside agency. Vain has been begging for a new digital display at the front of each practice rotating through various promotions and products. Pawn feels that a sales aid for each physician and practice manager will help them to better push key products and feel comfortable speaking about them.

  “These are great ideas, you guys. You’ve really put a lot of thought into them.”

  “Honestly?” Pawn leans forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “These are ideas we’ve had for years. It’s okay though, we’re patient, and you’re here now. The marketing team was always too busy to get around to these things. And well, there was a bit of drama between some members on our team. Fresh start though, right?” She smiles and I look to Jock and Vain to see them doing the same.

  If this is a clique, I desperately want to be involved.

  Love Her

  Bitch Problem:

  It is one thing to deal with a co-worker, someone on your same level that bullies you. It is quite another when the bully is your boss.

  At three thirty, I hear a heard of heels clicking my way. I quickly close out my computer and smooth on a fresh coat of lip gloss.

  A whirlwind of red lipstick, cat eye-liner and highlights whisks into my office and pulls out my chair, shuts my computer down and tosses me my coat.

  “I thought you said four,” I say and laugh.

  “It’s four o’clock somewhere,” Puppet Master smiles.

  “Is Vain coming?” I ask, following their lead.

  Jock lets out a deep throaty laugh. Puppet Master smacks her in the arm.

  “Don’t mind her,” she says. “Look, we love Vain, really. I mean who couldn’t love her vivacious self, but she can be a bit much sometimes. She is more of a co-worker than friend.”

  “She really wants to be our friend though,” laughs Jock. “It just isn’t in the cards. Not everyone is meant to be real life friends.”

  I should feel sorry for Vain. But I can’t help it. I am a chosen external friend, and I don’t want to do anything to mess it up.

  “Don’t tell her, okay? I’m pretty sure she knows we are going out, but it would really hurt her feelings. We just choose not to tell her,” says Puppet Master.

  “She has a lot of friends anyway,” says Pawn.

  “Yeah, guy friends. Co-worker, guy friends,” mumbles Jock just loud enough for me to hear.

  * * * *

  It’s Monday, but that doesn’t stop these women. They start out with a classy glass of chardonnay. It goes down smooth and slow. I wait patiently, wondering if it will be like my normal happy hours with plates of loaded nachos, potato skins, chips and salsa to start. No, the wine is their appetizer with their main course a shot of tequila and then martinis for dessert. I want to hang so desperately it almost kills me trying to keep them in focus. But before long, there are two of Puppet Master and I’m drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk.

  I’m careful not to slur my words, but up until this point I haven’t done much talking. I’ve just listened to them gab on about their miserable husbands, pathetic sex lives, wretched cellulite on their thighs and so forth. I am so enamored by their carefully applied makeup and smooth, curled hair that I haven’t much to say.

  “But what about you, Melanie?” Jock asks in between long sips. “You’ve got to have some flaws. Give me something, it will help me sleep at night. You are far too damn pretty.”

  “Me?” I gasp, amazed that she thinks so. For when I look in the mirror I see ten thousand things on any given day that I would change. I realize they are all staring at me anxiously awaiting a reply. “I have terrible cuticles, little bumps
on the back of my arms and thunder thighs,” I blurt out.

  They all break into laughter and pat me on the back.

  “I like this girl,” says Puppet Master. “But you should know, I don’t see any of your flaws.”

  I like her. Like love her.

  I excuse myself to the restroom to try and pull myself together. I hold a hand to the wall as I pass down the hallway, muttering to myself, “You idiot! Sober up!” I splash a little water on my face and am ready for round two, but perhaps just a bit of water for me this time.

  I blink blearily as I make my way through the crowd, unable to comprehend what I am seeing. No, it can’t be! Why would she be here? And with them? Drinking? I don’t realize but my lips are mouthing the words.

  “My darling!” Queen Bee opens her arms wide and gives me a squeeze. My cheeks flushed from the shots and the mortification of her being here. It is one thing to be anything but professional and polished in front of the other women, but not her. She is my boss. Impressing her means everything to me.

  I hug her back and then attempt to slide onto my bar stool and miss it by that much. I slip wildly toward the ground, grasping at the edge of the table to catch myself. I am an inch from the bar floor when I hear an eruption of laughter.

  “We couldn’t help it!” howls Puppet Master. “She’s just a light weight.”

  I close my eyes to steady myself before springing back to my feet. I smooth my hair and attempt to smile weakly. The worst possible thing has imagined. It can only go up from here.

  “These girls are terrible, aren’t they?” Queen Bee reaches over and moves a wild strand from my eyelashes. “I told them to be gentle on you.”

  What does that mean? Did they say they wanted to get me drunk? I stifle a hiccup. “It’s my fault really,” I lie. “I am quite the weak one when it comes to drinking. I used to be much better at hanging. But, now? In my thirties, I’m afraid it’s just an occasional glass of wine for me.”

  “Well, we’ll have to change that! Won’t we girls!” She throws her head back in her cackle and takes a sip from Puppet Master’s martini leaving a rim of her red lipstick along the edge. She is immaculate in a sky blue dress, hugging her petite frame in all the right places. Her arms are showered in diamond bangles with giant diamond studs poking out from her red curls.

  “Is this a regular event for you all?” I ask and use both hands to grip my stool before sitting back down.

  Pawn and Jock nod at the same time Puppet Master leans forward to whisper. “It’s our little secret, but Queen Bee lets us sneak out early to come have a little fun with her from time to time. Nothing major, we just don’t broadcast it. Surely, you understand. It could create some jealousy in the office.”

  I nod in return, my face as serious as if they were confessing a terminal disease. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, it isn’t so serious. These girls are my pride and joy and we celebrate that from time to time. They put in an unhealthy amount of hours, and I know I can count on them, so a little reward is in order.”

  “And she buys our drinks!” Pawn grins.

  “Now that one we might want to keep a little secret,” Queen Bee says and gives me a squeeze. “I love all of my employees, but maybe, if you really want to question, these three tend to get a bit more appreciation, if you know what I mean.”

  Now, more than ever, I want desperately to be the fifth edition to their group. Not only are her right hand team, but she is their friend. I can’t think of a better place to be than in her circle. I sit up a little straighter, reach for my water and settle in to hear their stories, laugh with them and make myself an irreplaceable member of the most glamorous, intelligent and powerful women in the world.

  What did I do to deserve being here? I can’t believe I ever judged them. A fresh layer of shame envelopes me. Women should be proud to work with one another. Lift them up. Celebrate their success, not judge if they are showing too much cleavage or wearing a bra. I feel myself tearing up from the shame and blink them back. These are my friends now. From this point on, I will rid myself of all judgy thoughts and be thankful for them having accepted me into their circle.

  I am entirely too emotional. It has to be the liquor.

  * * * *

  My alarm goes off the next day and I groan into my pillows. Oliver is presently sleeping on top of my head. How do these women do this? Go out on a Monday and then go into the office the next day. One thing is for sure, this diet of only vodka may help me drop a pound or two. Coupled with the throw up...coming up…now.

  I race to the bathroom and let it all out. And then again. How utterly embarrassing. I can’t remember the last time I threw up from drinking too much. I study my reflection in the bathroom mirror after I’ve emptied my stomach. Dark black mascara rings line my eyes and my hair is presently sticking straight out of the left side of my head. I could cry, I feel so bad. I’m such a disappointment. This isn’t how professional women act. I shuffle to the kitchen and swig over three glasses of orange juice, begging it to stay down. I slop some butter on a piece of toast and stand and stare out the window at the streets below. So many people, sharply dressed and racing to the office.

  “I hate you all,” I mutter and take another gulp. “Happy little, non-hungover people, all merrily racing down the streets.”

  * * * *

  I somehow manage to make it into the office by eight fifteen. Most people come in around here at eight thirty, but I have been trying to make a habit to be here at seven. I want to be the first one in and the last one out. I walk wearily past Receptionist who is always so put together. If it weren’t for this splitting headache I have, I normally offer a warm greeting. Today, I manage a halfway hello.

  “Rough night?” she calls out.

  “Oh man, do I look that awful? Puppet Master took me…” I start and then I stop myself. I’m not supposed to talk about our special outing. I try again, “I mean, is Puppet Master in today?”

  “Not yet, usually eight-thirty,” she barely replies before answering the phone again.

  Whew, dodged that one.

  I pit stop in the bathroom to touch up my makeup and drop in some eye drops to ease their bloodshot appearance.

  “Pull yourself together, Mel!” I say into the mirror.

  The toilet flushes and the door behind me opens wide to reveal Vain, looking fabulous as usual. She has a cherry red dress on, cinched with a wide pleather belt. Her blonde curls tumble down her chest, framing her open buttons on the front.

  “What’s wrong, Mel? Why do you have to pull yourself together?”

  I grimace, remembering all that Jock and Puppet Master had to say. Play it cool.

  “I, uh, had too much to drink with Finn last night.” I say and start washing my hands for a good distraction.

  “It’s okay, Mel,” she says and studies her reflection in the mirror, rubbing a fresh coat of lipstick on. “I know they told you not to tell me.”

  A lump instantly forms in my throat. “What do you mean?”

  She turns to face me, her eyes wide with sincerity. “They used to invite me, you know? We were pretty close. I make one mistake, slept with one wrong guy, and they never let me live it down. I had no idea Pawn liked him. She never told me. If she had, I would have stayed far away. It’s okay, I deserve it,” she says softly. “They could at least change the day of the week, so I didn’t know they were going out. I hope you had fun though.” She grabs her bag and heads for the door.

  “I honestly didn’t know any of that,” I say as she reaches for the handle.

  “They would have told you. Just a matter of time. I’ve got a Scarlet A on my back. See ya.” She sighs and leaves me to wonder how on earth she could be so misunderstood. I like Vain. She seems like a good person, but there are always two sides to every story.

  * * * *

  I add a fresh a coat of mascara to try and open my eyes a bit more and make my way out into the office to start my day. I am s
topped abruptly by Puppet Master.

  “Morning, sunshine! You look great,” she cracks. She of course, is flawless in every way. How on earth is that possible? Not one short hair is out of place. She is like an advertisement for fall right now with her sleek brown knee-high boots tucked under a gorgeous cranberry wraparound dress.

  “I feel like hell. Do I look that awful? I don’t want anyone to know I went out with you guys, your secret is my secret.” I say.

  “We don’t like to consider it a secret.” She smiles sweetly. “Just a little fun we don’t want to impose on others. But you better be ready to go out on Monday.” She pinches my arm and I almost gag from the thought of another drink. “By the way, I saw Vain come out of the restroom right before you. You didn’t say anything to her did you?”

  “Um, no not exactly. She saw me pulling myself together in the mirror and said she had a feeling I went out with you guys. Is that bad? I didn’t say anything back, really. I didn’t want to lie to her, but didn’t exactly stop her train of thought. Hope that’s okay?” God, I sound like a pathetic high school girl, I could slap myself in the face.

  “Of course, Mel. Vain already knows. She is just desperate to rejoin. Did she happen to mention why she doesn’t come any more?”

  “She…” I start.

  “It’s because she has taken on quite the reputation. I didn’t want to go into it too much yesterday, you know, I am a kind person. I certainly don’t want to taint your way of seeing her, but if she explained…” she says.

  “Well, kind of, she said…” I start again.

  “Good. It’s better that she’s honest. I mean you can’t be the office slut and not own it. It’s like an oxymoron. Anyway, Pawn was absolutely in love with Sleaze from down in Finance. He is like the classic player. He is hot as hell, always put together in the finest suits and he makes bank. He had been flirting with Pawn pretty heavily, but at our offsite motivational getaway in the Hamptons in April, we all thought they would finally make it happen. But Vain started two weeks prior. We accepted her into our circle like we did you, trusted her. We really liked her a lot; I want to make sure you know that. Vain is a nice person at first, easy to fall for. She kind of seduced us like she did Sleaze.”