by J. J. R.
Admin and I do an initial scan of the gorgeous, stunning store before I walk her over to my new baby. “I may be way overstepping and honestly have no idea what my budget is, but I assume something like this pink couch might work?”
The sales attendant perks back up, but quickly corrects me. “We don’t exactly call it pink. Our Ploum sofa comes in a range of colors; Mood, Spirit, Bifoam, Manhattan, and Dia.”
I raise my eyebrows at Admin who giggles from the seriousness. “What color do you think means pink? My bet’s on Dia,” I say, and she bursts into a fresh round of laughter.
Despite our inability to appreciate or understand the finest furniture and design store in Manhattan, we make our selections for delivery and head back out into the chilly afternoon. We spend the next two hours selecting lamps, framed art, a unique floating desk and the centerpiece, my mile high, silver wingback chair. Bestie is going to be so proud.
Dang it, I should have brought him!
Admin is courteous enough to arrange for everything to be delivered so our arms are free to dangle at our sides as we skip through the streets. While I feel nervous spending this kind of money on my office, Admin insists saying she will be the one to pay the price if we don’t spend a couple thousand minimum. The guilt is most certainly centered on my mistake of a lifetime yesterday.
“They must really like you,” she says as we nestle into a corner booth at Schnipper’s in the Flat Iron District.
“Why do you say that?” I ask. My face is playing it cool, but my heart is beating out of my chest in anticipation.
“They didn’t let the last Marketing Director buy a thing for her office. What you see in there now is exactly what it looked like.”
“Really? Did they ever say why?” This question is inappropriate and none of my business, but every little thing I can learn sets me up for success.
She shrugs. “Not really. If you were to ask me though, I’d say it was because they didn’t expect she would last very long.”
“Oh?” Admin’s got my interest now.
“I probably shouldn’t be saying all of this. Puppet Master would kill me.”
I smile and pat her on the hand. “I didn’t hear a word.”
We pause to order two green chili burgers with a side of mac and cheese. Two regular Cokes to top it off. She ordered it first, and I simply followed her lead. And for the record, I’ve been starving myself for weeks. It is the least I deserve. And I probably walked it all off during our shopping extravaganza. And my stomach really has shrunk to the size of a peanut, so I’ll only manage a few bites anyway.
I am busy tucking my straw into my sugar loaded soda, eyes closed as I sip, when I hear a sniffle. I look up to see her lifting her glasses to dab at her eyes. Uh, what did I miss?
“You okay, Admin? Did you get something in your eye?” I reluctantly set down my delicious drink and offer her my napkin. She accepts it gratefully.
“No, I’m sorry. I am a bottler, you know?” She blows her nose.
“Hmm...a bottler. Can you give me a bit more context?” I grin, hoping she will too. She doesn’t. More tears slip out.
“I bottle my emotion,” she continues. “I hold everything in, swallow every degrading remark, and then I burst into tears with our newest manager over burgers.”
“Degrading remark?” I ask. Now I’m beyond intrigued.
“I really do have it pretty good. A lot of my friends are still trying to find a job, spending their parent’s money on rent. It’s just that lately? Lately, I’ve been feeling pretty low. It seems nothing I do is right. I come in early, stay late…”
“Work Saturdays…” I smile in appreciation.
“And I don’t even get a nod of thanks. I’ve even had some responsibilities retracted from me without explanation. And when I ask? All I get is ‘I’ll manage it from here. You’ve done enough.’ What does that even mean? Am I that completely worthless? And the straw that broke this pathetic little Admin’s back? I heard her whispering about me in the kitchen, saying that I was a complete disappointment and she was blaming me for her mishaps. I’m her scapegoat!” With this, Admin breaks into full on sobs.
The server approaches our table reluctantly with giant burgers and the creamiest mac and cheese I’ve ever seen. I smile awkwardly as he slips our plates in under Admin’s tissues. I decide to not interrupt and take a bite of my burger instead.
Pause.
Oh. My. God.
This burger is freaking delicious. De-li-cious.
Okay, back to Admin. “What did she blame you for?” I ask with a mouthful of burger.
“Stupid stuff really. Late reports, missed emails, anything really that she doesn’t want to have to deal with. She is so busy in other people’s work that she doesn’t do her own.” She clamps her hand over her mouth. She’s gone too far. I know it. She knows it.
Okay, I’m a manager here, but can I also be a confidant? Am I obligated to tell Puppet Master what I’ve learned? Her Admin’s lack of loyalty or slandering of her name? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what to do. But whatever next steps are taken, I need to diffuse this situation stat.
“Listen, Admin. I understand where you are coming from. It is so hard coming into work every day with a cheerful smile and never letting anything get to you. It sounds like you have been holding this in for a while. And when that happens, it is so easy to make things bigger than they are.”
She bobs her head up and down, eyes brimming with tears.
“Have you thought about talking to her? Asking her to help you be a better success? If we put the ball in the other person’s court, it is easy for them to feel a bit sought after and appreciated.” She looks lost. “Do you understand what I am trying to say?”
She shakes her head no.
“Sorry, I’m trying to choose my words so carefully right now, they aren’t making sense!” I laugh. “So what I am saying is if you seek out her advice, make her feel important, as if you are trying desperately to please her, she may offer more insight.”
“You think so?” she asks. “What if she is upset I am even asking? Sometimes I think she just wants me to be invisible and shut up and do my job.”
“I doubt it. She seems pretty great to me. But we all go through issues with our co-workers, especially our bosses. My advice, for whatever it is worth, is to talk to her like a friend. Tell her you want her to shine and to do that you need a bit more guidance. How could she refuse you? Now please, I’ve been off carbs for a month. This burger is staring through my soul.”
She bursts into a fit of laughter and the tension is broken.
After we devour our meals, I pick up the tab and offer her a world of thanks. I can tell she is nervous she has revealed way too much. It is an adolescence thing. We learn to zip our lips as we grow, but in the beginning? You think you can trust everyone. Lucky for her, in this case it is true.
“Don’t worry,” I say and give her a warm hug. “I won’t say a word. It is important to maintain a level of confidence in your co-workers. My lips are sealed. But I would talk to her first thing Monday.”
“Thank you, Melanie. You are the best. Everyone is saying so. I shouldn’t have involved you, but I didn’t know who else to talk to. Our world is filled with all kinds of agendas, but I just felt like you actually cared enough to listen.”
“Anytime.” I smile, turn on my heels and wave goodbye, all the while my posture is drastically more confident. Everyone is saying so.
Wrong Move?
Bitch Problem:
Have you ever been openly ignored at work? As in you say, “Good morning!” and they choose to just walk away. Or you had a tough debate in a meeting and they give you the silent treatment for a week. Ignoring, or as children do, pouting, is unacceptable in the workplace.
After spending the evening with Finn to make up for our lost day together, it is only then that I am starting to feel in control again. It was just a stupid week. I made a mistake with the website and I was called o
ut for it. Lesson learned.
But look at all the greatness that happened also! I had a wonderful bonding lunch with Admin, learned that everyone thinks I am awesome and made up with Finn. Things are right as rain.
I made him a gorgeous dinner of spaghetti and meatballs with two delicious bottles of red wine. I’m no chef, but it was quite scrumptious. Okay, frozen meatballs and canned sauce still count.
Today I’m going to get my happy ass back into the yoga studio with Jade and pretend the burger and two servings—okay maybe four—of pasta never happened.
We are mid Downward Dog when she asks, “So things are still going well?”
I shift my ankle a bit to steady myself. “Yes, it’s great. I spent yesterday afternoon spending Allure’s money on my new office décor!” Why did I say that? Now she is going to feel even lower than before.
“Cool,” I hear somewhere behind her thighs.
“I did have a mishap with our website though. Some pornographic material somehow leaked onto our homepage. No biggie. All fixed now.”
I see Jade’s head poke out from between her legs. “Porn? Did you say porn?”
“I know. Total disaster. Well, that little situation and then you know the Puppet Master I was telling you about.”
“The one you really like?” She shifts to Warrior Pose.
“Yeah, she sent her assistant to meet me yesterday and she ended up pouring her little heart out. Going on and on about how she doesn’t feel appreciated. How Puppet Master blames her for everything that goes wrong.”
“Whoa.” Her eyebrows raise. “How’d you manage to deal with that?”
“I think I handled it pretty eloquently. I recognize that I am on the Executive level and can’t be gossiping with entry level team members.”
“So what did you tell her do?”
“I simply encouraged her to consider talking with Puppet Master.”
Jade fell from her pose. “Oh, hope that doesn’t backfire. I mean how well do you really know Puppet Master? That kind of thing could piss her off.”
“No, absolutely not. She seems very understanding. And Admin is so sweet, I’m sure it will come out peaceful as can be. Isn’t open communication the best method?” I ask.
“Normally, but...oh well. You did what you could. We’ll see what happens. Oh and by the way, Trevor’s gallery opening is in less than two weeks, don’t forget.”
I smile and nod as if nothing is wrong, but honestly I’m not sure I like Jade’s reaction. She is supposed to be my best friend. She is supposed to say things like, “that was nice of you,” or “you are such a good person, Mel”. Not put fear in my heart. She’s wrong though. I know it. Puppet Master may be powerful, but she’s kind, as well.
* * * *
Um, I was wrong. Jade was right.
My first vision of the morning. Admin racing by me, clutching her plant, toward the elevator. I try to stop her, begging to all the stars in the sky that this isn’t a result of my little chestnut of advice. She doesn’t stop, she continues running, a blubbering mess and I am left holding my cappuccino in her wake.
Shit.
I make my way down to Puppet Master’s office. She is standing in the corner, gazing out the window with her hand on her hip.
“Morning,” I say with a slight knock at the door.
“Oh hello, Melanie. I trust your shopping went well.” She turns to greet me and I have a chance to take in her salmon-colored twill wrap sheath dress with matching stilettos. Gorgeous.
“Yes, wonderful. Admin was great. A real eye for that sort of thing.”
She grimaces before sitting down in her chair. “That’s the only thing she has an eye for.”
“Oh?” I ask. “Everything okay?”
“Not really. Melanie, can you believe it? She actually had the nerve to come in here and question my authority, my management! I fired her. On the spot. I can’t take that kind of back talk. Who does she think she is?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What exactly did she say?”
Puppet Master motions to the chair opposite hers and I take a seat, silently praying that she went rogue against my basic instructions. You can offer advice, but if she went berserk with it, well that’s not exactly my fault, now is it.
“She tried to act all innocent saying she wanted to be a better employee, wanted to help me succeed. A load of crap if you ask me. I know that it was because after she said all that, she asked why I blamed her for my mishaps. Said she overheard me in the kitchen last week.”
No, Admin, why did you go there.
Okay, so not entirely my fault.
“Wow,” I manage. “And firing her was your only choice?” I regret asking it as soon as it comes out.
“Yes, Melanie. It was. I can’t have someone like that walking around slandering my name. I mean did she say anything like that to you yesterday?”
Here it is. The hot seat. Not just hot. Burning my ass cheeks all the way to Timbuktu. She is glaring at me. My sweat glands open for business. Do I lie? Say no? Do I tell her the whole truth? Will she understand? She taps her foot and I realize my time is up.
“She just said that she was feeling a little frustrated and I encouraged her to talk to you. She didn’t go into any detail though.” There, a partial lie. A little white lie. Completely harmless. I hold my breath.
She leaps from her chair. “That brat! I nurtured her. Pulled her from the streets. I gave her everything and she is going to complain to you about me. How dare her! Good riddance. I regret the day I hired that little snot.”
I scratch my head nervously. She turns back to me quickly.
“Thank God she came to you, Mel. If she had poured her bratty little heart out to anyone else they would have fed into the gossip. I can trust you.”
I swallow hard.
“Yes, you can,” I say, very aware of the sweat trickling down my spine.
“What do you say? Let’s celebrate! Heck with her. I can find someone that’s beating down doors to work for me. Can I take you to lunch? My way of saying thank you?”
What the hell just happened?
I stare at her blankly.
“Oh, don’t say you are too busy. Clear your schedule for me.” She bounces over to me and gives me a hug.
“Sure, Puppet Master. Anything for you.”
I spend the next several hours in a state of shock. How on earth in one week did all of this happen? How did I get that poor girl fired? I mean, granted she went too far, calling her out on the kitchen conversation, but I feel so responsible.
I should have told her to grit her teeth and bear it. Never be combative or question your boss. But why? I guess that is where I’m getting stuck. Why was a heart to heart constitution for firing? Shouldn’t Puppet Master have been just a bit more understanding? I mean, Admin is so young, she should be forgiven those little missteps.
What is killing me the absolute most? What could I have done to stop it? What could I have said to prevent this self-sabotage?
I try desperately to focus on my work. I tap away at emails, meet with Digital Strategist and Marketing Manager, but all the while, I am picturing sweet little Admin, clutching her plant, tearing out of the lobby.
Guilt. That is what I am feeling and it is the absolute worst emotion. Give me fear, anger or exquisite pain any day, but guilt? How do I go about my day remembering those sad little tears? All I can see is the younger version of myself being fired. I wonder if I can somehow manage her number from someone around here. I will send her a bouquet of flowers. I will give her job recommendations. Call a friend that can help her. I’ll send her a check! A big fat check to make up for it.
Calm down, Mel. Don’t do anything that is traceable. Money is definitely traceable. And isn’t it pathetic to think I could buy my way out of this little guilt train. Ultimately, I find her on Facebook and send her a private message. No friendship. That’s traceable. But a quick message won’t hurt.
Hi Admin-
I am s
o sorry to hear of the day’s events. I apologize sincerely if any of my advice on talking with Puppet Master was misguided. I’d like to sincerely help you find something new and know quite a few people in the business. Call me anytime at 555-555-1234.
Sincerely,
Melanie Michaels
There. Nothing out of the ordinary. I told Puppet Master after all that I spoke to her briefly. There is nothing about this message that is inappropriate. And I’ve offered my number to take this conversation offline. It’s the least I can do.
I still feel like crap though.
And I continue to feel this way until I hear the clicking of Puppet Master’s heels leading up to my office.
“Ready for lunch?” She has a completely new smile on. Fresh, without remorse. Clearly, she is over it.
“You doing okay?” I ask, curious if she will break down.
“Yes, I had a long chat with Queen Bee. We are great now. She has just the right replacement for Admin. One that I can actually trust. Moving on, right?”
“Right,” I say and grab my purse.
We dine at Lincoln Ristorante on West 65th Street, indulging in beds of lettuce with beef sirloin, Treviso, blue cheese dressing, and toasted walnuts. Puppet Master insists, at Queen Bee’s direction, that we celebrate over a glass of Barolo Luigi Pira to calm our nerves.
I feel a new layer of guilt rising in my throat as we clink glasses to…what? Firing an innocent young girl? To being supreme and wealthy enough that we don’t need to feel guilt. I suddenly think I might be sick.
“Can you excuse me, please?” I smile self-consciously as she continues to gulp her drink.
“Hurry back, we have a lot to catch up on,” she says as I slip away.
* * * *
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m thinner, yes. I’m styling my hair with care these days, having gone from frizzy, long locks to straightened and then curled. It’s still me though. Still the same girl inside.
“You can do this.” I give myself a little pep talk. “You can climb the ladder, be successful, but not lose yourself. Give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Believe in the goodness of humanity.”