Rude Boss

She continues inside and I trail her to the elevators, entranced by the trail of jasmine and honeysuckle scent that bounces off her and lands inside my nostrils.

She steps on.

I step on behind her. The doors close. We go up a few floors before I press the emergency stop button and turn my attention to her.

“What are you doing?” she asks with narrowed eyes and a frown disturbing her beauty.

I want so badly for her to recognize me and remember all the good times we shared, but she has no idea who I am. I say, “I’m getting your attention.”

With a daggered glare, she asks, “Why do you need my attention?”

I shrug. “You’re in a hurry today. Take a minute to breathe.”

Confusion washes over her face. I take a moment to appreciate her presence, her face – her aura – the too-small jacket she has on and her wind-tossed hair. I can tell how heavy she’s breathing as I imagine she’s intimidated being in close quarters with who she thinks is a psycho boss. I hear her heart drumming. I soak it all in while she looks like she’s in panic mode.

To put her somewhat at ease – well as best as you can put a woman at ease after you’ve trapped her on an elevator – I ask, “How was your day yesterday?”

“Good,” she says, tight-lipped. “Why do you have to trap me in an elevator to ask me how my day was?”

“It gives me one-on-one time to talk to you without any interruptions.”

“Okay, cool. Can I get off this elevator now?”

Ignoring her question, I ask, “What about orientation? How’s that coming along?”

“Orientation is orientation. It sucks, especially since it mostly involves watching all those videos.”

“I’m sure the few videos I’m in captured your attention the most, huh?”

Quintessa doesn’t crack a smile. She’d rather be anywhere but here. She throws a hand on her hip. “Can I go now?”

“You can go when I’m done talking.” I know I’m coming across as authoritarian and sycophantic. I just can’t help myself. This is my Tessie. My girl.

Why don’t you know who I am? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I withhold it. If she doesn’t know who I am by now, it’ll be to my advantage to get to know her again without all the baggage of the man I used to be.

She narrows her eyes and backs into the corner of the elevator away from me, crossing her arms again, shifting her weight from one side to the other now. She asks, “Why are you talking to me in a stopped elevator? Do you do all the new hires like this? Is this some kind of initiation?”

“Would you prefer we talk in my office?”

Her frown grows deeper. “I would prefer to come to work and do my job without being harassed.”

“I’m not harassing you, Ms. Bailey.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Talking. Getting to know who’s working for me. I only hire the best—”

“And you told me I was the best unless you were just gassing me up to get me to work here.”

“I wasn’t gassing you at all, but I do think you need to work on your people skills. You need to have the acumen to communicate across various teams and levels of management. You can’t come across like you’re annoyed most of the time.”

“Oh, you think this is how I am normally? Let me enlighten you and put you at ease at the same time—it’s not. I’m just this way with you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know why.”

“If I knew why, I wouldn’t be wasting my time asking.”