The Corporate Bitch

by J. J. R.

  “Can I just ask one thing?” Brisa says. “Trust me, I’ve had my heart broken. And I didn’t exactly dress like a trustworthy woman before, so I can really forgive you for jumping to conclusions about me. Dante and Mel helped me with that.”

  Dante straightens his tie says, “Stop,” with a wave of a hand.

  We all laugh nervously.

  “I just want to know, why now? What changed?” Brisa finishes. And suddenly I realize how real this all is to her. This is a serious apology. She has been waiting for this for months and it is written all over her face. Dante reaches for my hand and clutches it as we watch this soap opera unfold.

  “I think I owe you answers for more than that one question. I owe you an apology. Sincerely, I hope you can forgive me. A woman should never be judged by the way she dresses or one mistake she made. And maybe it never felt like a mistake to you. Maybe you really liked him.”

  Brisa drops her head and laughs a little. “Not anymore.”

  “But in answer to your question, I guess the tides turned when I saw how much you and Mel got along. Melanie is a really great person and sees the best in everyone. She didn’t judge you based on your past, she accepted you for who you are. She didn’t let your beauty threaten her. And the bottom line is, that is the real truth. You are so drop dead, damn gorgeous, it made me feel like the scum of the earth.” She tears up again.

  Dante glances at me, eyes overflowing with tears and shrugs. “Oh, don’t cry, Ashley! You are beautiful. You are!” He jumps from his bar stool and races around to hug her and pet her hair.

  She laughs and the tension is broken. “I guess I just want to be as confident as Mel.” She looks at me here and says, “You’ve taught me a lot. The corporate world is so full of competition and mean, power-hungry behavior, that you forget what being a Christian means. You are a good person, Melanie and you have reminded my sorry, jaded self to be a little bit kinder.”

  That’s it. Any doubts I had of this sweet, quiet woman are gone. My tears flow over and we’re all dabbing at our eyes and reaching over to hug one another.

  We break up the pathetic crying that, as one might imagine, is currently getting us some pretty heavy stare-downs, with a tray full of appetizers. We pass around the fried potato skins, crispy onion straws, mozzarella sticks, and chips and guacamole. We order another round and gorge ourselves on the worst for us but most delicious food around.

  We chat about everything: our families, what brought us to New York, my wedding, Dante’s obsession with different colored, fake eyeglasses—presently green—and finally, finally, office drama.

  “I can’t believe how hard on you they are being. You are so smart, Melanie. You’ve done a lot already and have definitely done everything I need. I guess, I just don’t get the need for a marketing agency and why that decision was ever in Puppet Master’s court,” says Ashley.

  “What isn’t in Puppet Master’s court?” I grunt and Dante kicks me so hard under the table, I almost start crying.

  See! I can’t be trusted to not let anything leak!

  “It’s okay though,” I say calmly, desperate to redeem myself. “She’s super smart and determined to help make me a success. In fact, I think it is a great idea.”

  “Ha! Smart? She barely finished her undergrad at some tiny college in Wisconsin. She is all balls, no brains,” Ashley says and takes a long swig of her drink and then immediately shoves a large chip loaded with guacamole into her mouth.

  “You don’t mean that,” says Brisa sweetly. “She may have been tough on me, but that is the only person I’ve ever seen her be mean to.”

  “Oh you mean, Admin? Melanie? Katrina? Sonya? Mark? Terry? The best was when she marched into Diane’s office and tried to tell her how to do HR. The list goes on and on. She has cold blood running through her and the only reason I trusted her is because she seemed so humble at first. She makes you think you are her best friend and then I’ve seen her flick a switch and be a cold bitch within hours. Exactly what she is doing to Mel now.”

  “Whoa.” Dante lets out a breath. “I agree, she is being pretty shitty. The whole agency thing and the meeting last week where she called her on the carpet in front of the whole staff. Why do you think she is doing all of this to our Mel?” he says innocently and way too rehearsed. Ashley doesn’t notice at all and keeps on her rant.

  “She is determined to make you crack. She thought she had you after your little breakdown on Thanksgiving. She planned that whole thing, the little misunderstanding, and despite her best efforts, Queen Bee ended up apologizing to you! She was pissed! And then you handled yourself so well with all the other stuff that she—”

  “Wait!” I interject. “That was all planned? What the hell? What did I ever do to her? She hired me, for God’s sake!” I’m about to lose it, but Dante puts his hand on my shoulder and I start my Lamaze breathing, which is a new, highly unattractive trend of mine.

  Ashley drains her drink and before she can even think twice, Dante has planted a fresh one right in front of her. “Go on.”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you all of this. She is going to kill me,” Ashley says.

  “I think you know you are safe within this group, Ashley,” Dante says. “And I think you know more than ever that Puppet Master isn’t exactly good people.”

  Brisa nods. “But you are. And if you tell us what is going on, we can protect Mel. We can’t undo what she has done to everyone else, but we can protect her.”

  Guilt. The best tactic there is.

  “You sure you guys won’t say anything? I’ll deny it if you do.” I suddenly see the seven year old version of Ashley and my heart breaks a little for her. I think she is keenly aware of how much of a pawn she’s truly been.

  “Cross our hearts,” says Dante. And we all cross our hands over our chest in solemn oath, Brisa’s taking a bit longer as she has much more real estate.

  And then Ashley spills…everything.

  “Okay, here goes nothing! So what you need to know is that she thought she could hire somebody that she could control. She wanted someone fairly inexperienced that was so enamored by the place they wouldn’t challenge a word out of her mouth. Sorry, Mel.”

  I shake my head, pretending it doesn’t hurt. I’ve known it all along after all, why should it sting when it is truly revealed. I can’t help it. It hurts.

  “Mel, what she didn’t realize is how smart and capable you actually are. And it screwed up her whole plan.”

  “Which was?” I say, a bit too sharply.

  “Queen Bee and Puppet Master have been plotting take over for years. Queen Bee is trying to push Tom out to the Board and then Puppet Master would rise with her. They only ever shared this in confidence to Jock and I and no one else. They promised to take us to the top with them if we helped. What I didn’t realize was how much of a pawn I was being.”

  There it is again, that tragic expression. She has clearly been bottling this up for a long time.

  “So, we played along. I guess you could say the whole thing was seductive. They are so glamorous and powerful that they suck you right in.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say.

  “Ditto,” says Dante.

  “Me too,” says Brisa quietly.

  “See? Everyone wants to be like them. Be one of them. If you aren’t one of the Divas you are replaceable. But after the first six months, I saw the real them come out, mainly Puppet Master. Just such vindictive, hateful behavior. Anything to get to the top. I saw them throw Sleaze, Martyr, and so many others under the bus. Dante, for some reason, you are exempt. Puppet Master says you should never piss off a gay.”

  “Damn straight!” he says and sits up straight.

  We all laugh but are offended at the same time.

  “I tried to stop her at first, but she would snap and would exclude me from stuff until I apologized. I’ve honestly never seen a better manipulator in my life. But back to her master plan. So, the goal was to push Tom out and take over, but Mel, you
threw everything off. You see, Queen Bee tried to sell you up the river when he kept saying how great you were doing. They never ever want someone to shine brighter than them. So, she threw you under the bus saying you weren’t really quite the right it. Tom wanted to judge for himself and walked away so damn impressed with your proposal that he wants to make you VP of Marketing within the year to make sure you never leave.”

  “What? Shut the freaking fuck up!” My jaw is presently on the table.

  “That a girl!” Brisa claps.

  “Here you are, all feeling like a failure because Puppet Master thought she could control you and boom! You are better than anyone they’ve ever had!”

  My cheeks are rosy red, my hands are shaking, and I want to squeal like a prize pig at the Missouri fair. Instead, I simply say, “Well, I’m honored.”

  Dante laughs heartily at that one.

  “Yep,” Ashley continues. “He said you are exactly what we need, the best thing that has ever happened to Allure and he doesn’t want to lose you like we did Katrina. Little does he know they pushed her out. And now, they’re after you because nobody becomes VP without them deciding and no one looks better than them. So insert all of the manipulative shit that has been happening to you and it all makes sense.” She lets out a big breath and sits back looking both pleased and terrified at the same time.

  “Oh! The most important thing!” Ashley snaps back to attention. “Before you impressed him so much, he was starting to become unengaged, which meant their plan was working. It was just a matter of time before he was right out of the door. But now he is so excited about all of your plans, he wants to come to more meetings and get more involved. So logically, they have to push you out the door.”

  The three of us sit there stunned. For we knew they didn’t like me, maybe wished they could control me a bit more but never this. This is deeply cut-throat, irrational, Wall Street behavior that I’ve only ever read about in books.

  “I can’t believe it.” Brisa sighs. “These women are scandalous.”

  “We have to stop them,” I say. “I have to stop them. No one can do this in the freaking grown-up world. How have they gotten away with it?”

  “Because no one has stopped them,” says Dante.

  “Until now,” I say with a newfound confidence that is so deeply rooted, not a damn thing can stop me. No more happy hours or smiling through gritted teeth. I. AM. PISSED.

  Worth Fighting For

  Bitch Problem:

  How do you deal with flat out immaturity? When you sit in a meeting and someone rolls their eyes or snorts with laughter at your ideas it can be one of the most demeaning forms of bullying.

  The following afternoon, I’m sitting in the middle of a team meeting when I see Martyr tap on the window of the conference room. I wave him in.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” He looks around nervously. “Mind if I steal you for a second after this meeting?”

  “Sure!” I smile brightly, for I know this is my moment to win him over, no matter what is on his agenda. He is going to love me if it kills him. I need all the allies I can get.

  After my meeting, I find him in his den with Pepsi and Star Trek paraphernalia splashed around his office.

  “Hey Martyr! What can I do for you?” I say and take a seat. His office furniture has conveniently been forgotten. Meanwhile, everyone upstairs has an office décor budget, while Martyr is sitting in chairs with holes in them.

  “Nothing for me, I get by without much,” he starts in true Martyr fashion. “Just wanted to ask you about the recent app updates. We’ve made some changes and thought it might be a good thing for you to promote through social media ads. If you want to, that is.”

  “That is a great idea! Did you think of that?”

  “Well, sure, no big deal really. Not important who gets credit as long as we all succeed.”

  “Great attitude,” I say, scribbling in my notebook. I raise an eyebrow as I go on to say, “You are one of the few team players I’ve met around here, I tell you. Good to have someone I can count on.”

  That does it. The dam breaks. One little humanized moment, one opening for venting and he’s all in.

  “Right? This place is so full of mean, self-serving people. I’m sure you’ve noticed how Puppet Master and her little clique, the Divas are? I’m sure glad you’re not like that Melanie, I don’t think I could have taken one more person joining that cult.”

  “Oh yeah?” I probe.

  “Yeah, they used to have it out for me. Like I told you, nice to see someone else get it for a change. But that wasn’t very nice of me. You’re doing great things, Mel. You don’t deserve that.” He twirls his fingers around in circles nervously.

  “Thanks, Martyr. I knew you were a great guy when you refused to let me take the hit for the website hack. I’m not going to lie, they’re a pretty tough crowd, but its people like you that keep me trying.”

  Compliments. Key to every door that won’t unlock, trust me.

  “Oh well, thanks. I’m just trying to do the right thing. I used to be a lot more vocal you know, spoke up in meetings, but after what happened three years ago, I am best focused on just getting through the day. I try to keep my head low, stay out of trouble and count down the days until I retire.”

  “What happened?”

  “They fired me. Said I was incompetent and way too old. I said it wasn’t right and was going to report them, but they said I could never prove it. I packed up all this crap, you can imagine how long that took, and stormed out.”

  “They really said that?” I interject.

  “Yep, those exact words. Too old. Never forget it. I was only fifty-six at the time. Never felt so low in my life,” he says and if I’m not mistaken, I see his eyes glistening a bit.

  “But you are here now? Did they change their minds?”

  He clears his throat. “Yeah, called me up stuck in some big system error days later. I never should have come back, but I needed the job.”

  “I’m glad you said yes,” I say and genuinely mean it. I’m quickly learning the lesson you pick up as a child but somehow forget over time. Everyone has a story. People may act mad, bitter, forgotten, frustrated, sad or combative, but when an effort is made to truly get to know them and hear their story, everything changes.

  “So am I, Melanie. Keep fighting the good fight,” says Rick—formerly known as Martyr.

  * * * *

  I have to use the restroom after that one to pull myself together. My eyes are glistening like a child on Christmas morning and I’m dumbfounded at how emotionally attached I’ve become. These are good, no great people, and it’s breaking my heart what a few ruthless women are putting them through. God, if I could just remove them, ironically the only two clamoring for the top, we would have a beautiful, kind-hearted, intelligent, hardworking team here at Allure.

  I dab my eyes and splash cold water on my face before heading down to see Dante. This plan is going so well it’s actually starting to make me nervous. These are smart people, not pieces on a chess board. I should never be trusted so easily. Aren’t they all, or shouldn’t they all be a bit more jaded? I could so easily storm in and sell them up the river as Queen Bee did to me.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful. I never would get through a day around here if they were all Puppet Masters. I need the Ricks, Dianes, and Ashleys of the world, because they, as Tom put it, restore humanity. They remind me that business is personal. That people are kind and good. That people do care.

  They’re worth fighting for.

  * * * *

  This weekend I am walking away from my secret ploy and master plan, just for a few days. I need a mental break. I need my fiancé.

  I traipse up the stairs, lifting each foot a bigger chore than the last. I’m exhausted. Plotting for corporate domination is exhausting. I have no idea how Puppet Master does this on a daily basis. After a while it starts to wear on you. I’m so busy keeping my plan and all of my mischievous ways in check tha
t I’m starting to look haggard. I land on the final stair and let out the sigh of a woman at the finish line of a marathon.

  I’m home.

  I let myself in and Oliver bounds toward me, his fat rolls jiggling side to side. I scoop him up and smother him in kisses noticing, hark, the sound of Christmas music floating through my apartment.

  “What is that? Did you and Daddy get some Christmas spirit all of a sudden?” I plant one last kiss on his warm nose and head toward the music.

  Bing Crosby swells through my apartment. I stop to remove my stupid killer heels and close my eyes for a moment. Nothing like sweet music to set you right again.

  “Babe?” I call out. “Are you up to something?”

  He pops out of my bedroom door and beams. “Close your eyes!”

  “Well, hello to you lover.” I grin and excitedly plant my still freezing fingers over my eyes. “You know I love/hate surprises. It better not be your naked body. That isn’t really all that new.”

  I feel him slap my arm and pull me forward.

  He whispers in my ear, “My sweet cheeks, you have been working your little ass off lately. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard.”

  “You mean all of my plotting? Yeah, hard work,” I scoff.

  “That too, but there has been real work. You are so determined to prove your value, but what you don’t realize is how valuable you are to me.”

  “Awe, treasure chest,” I say and reach my hand out to touch him and he kisses it.

  “I wanted to stop tonight and breathe. Just you and me. It’s almost Christmas and you need a little spirit in your life. You need…” And he pulls his hands away to reveal hundreds of multi-colored twinkle lights all throughout my room. They are draped from the ceiling like a merry-go-round, intertwined around my headboard, night stand and lamps and covering every surface of my room. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

  “Oh babe, it is beautiful,” I say breathlessly, feeling warm tears trickle down my cheeks. “I can’t believe it.” I turn to him and pull him into my arms. His strong arms around me shred my last bit of stubborn pride and before I can stop it, I am sobbing.