Worthy of the Billionaire's Attention

I arrived the next day to find a box on my desk. Inside was a brand new designer dress suit. I knew it would fit perfectly. I smiled and held the jacket up admiring the color and stitching. It was beautiful and I knew it must have cost about two months of my salary. I suddenly wasn’t mad about my skirt being ruined anymore. I noticed a note tied to the box in Mr. Kings messy scrawl.

Claire,

It was great to see you last night. I hope you had as wonderful a time as I did. It was just like old times. If you are interested, I would love to have you for dinner at my place tonight. 7pm.

-GK

I tucked the box under my desk and started in on my work.

***

As Mr. Jenkins and I walked into Mr. King’s office to give him his daily briefing, I hoped that Mr. Jenkins wouldn’t sense that anything was different with Mr. King and I. After all, he probably already believed I slept my way into this position, and anything that vindicated that thought could possibly work against me in the future. I needn’t have worried.

As we walked through the double doors, Mr. King was talking on the phone. As part of my training, Mr. Jenkins has made sure to let me know that if Mr. King was attending to other business, I was to wait. Mr. Jenkins left me in the room with him, to wait for him to be ready for me. I looked him over. He was as strong and confident as ever as he let the party on the other end of the phone know in no uncertain terms that this was his company, and that if he wanted to keep arguing the point, he could start his own company. My thoughts couldn’t help but flash to the night before, and how it had been his show then too. He hung up angrily.

“Hello, Mr. King,” I said, eager to get to my report. I had spent all morning working on it, putting extra emphasis on a department that had a time-sensitive matter that needed Mr. King’s attention.

Mr. King wasted no time. “What can you tell me about the antivirus department’s development on our efforts to become compatible with the latest mobile phone operating system?”

“Um, uh,” I stammered, searching through my notes. “I know I have something in here about them in my daily report, if you’d like me to start from the beginning.”

“No, Ms. Vanders, I want the informati

on about them now. Are they up to speed or aren’t they?” Mr. King insisted, obviously growing impatient.

“Here, I’ve got something. ‘The antivirus department reports that they are working towards full compatibility with the new operating system.’”

There was a pause. “And…?” he asked.

I started to sweat as I shuffled through my papers. “That’s all I seem to have on them,” I said frantically.

“Well what the fuck do I pay you for then? I expect you to be intimately aware of many of the details of this company, not just regurgitate press releases. If I was happy with what you just told me, I could have got it from the asshole I just talked to.”

His anger was palpable, and I was starting to get pretty angry myself. Just who did he think he was, talking to me like that. He’s your boss, the voice inside me said, and I resigned myself to just taking the tongue lashing. I looked at him, unsure of what to say next. He finally broke eye contact with me and seemed to get angrier.

“Why are you hunching again?” he said, as if he could hardly believe his eyes. I sat up with a jolt, almost as if he had torn that piece of duct tape off my back again. He pulled off his shoes, and I was worried for a moment that he was going to ask me to do the same, to punish me right here in his office. Instead, he pulled a pair of tennis shoes from a desk drawer. He put them on, unbuttoned a couple buttons on his dress shirt, and jumped on his treadmill. “I want you back up here at three o’clock, this time with a more detailed report. Don’t disappoint me again, and don’t hunch when you come up here. Do whatever it takes, and hopefully I’ll have cooled off by then,” he said, as he cranked the treadmill up to a full running speed.

I left his office in a hurry, mad at myself for disappointing Mr. King and disgusted at myself for being so sexually turned on by his dressing down. I was no longer sure I’d show up at his house for dinner as he requested, but I had a couple days to decide.

***

I worked through lunch to make the report he requested, hounding Mr. Cirrus, the department head who was already mad at being yelled at by the boss. I talked with some of his managers and even some of the software production employees, and they walked me through it and explained some of it. From what little I understood of it, they were making good progress, and the department head had nothing to worry about, they would hit their deadline. One manager, Mr. Thayer, even offered to send me weekly progress reports personally, a courtesy that would make my job even easier. I thanked him and went to write up my report.

As I walked into Mr. King’s office for the second time that day, I was much more confident in my ability to impress him outside of the bedroom. Fuck him and fuck his dinner. I could do this job and I needed to prove it to myself and to him.

He was much calmer than he had been earlier as I made it to his desk. He saw the report in my hand as I walked up, and with no small talk held his hand out to accept it from me. He read it in silence, asking no questions. I managed to keep my posture correct through voluntarily reminding myself that it would set him off if I slouched for even a moment. I could see him making mental notes as he read. Suddenly, he hit his intercom button.

“Send Mr. Cirrus and Mr. Thayer up to my office, please.”

They continued to sit in silence as they waited for the two men to be summoned. Mr. Thayer was there almost immediately and sat down quietly. However, Mr. King had already read through the report and had started looking up a couple of things before Mr. Cirrus showed up. I watched as the scene unfolded in front of me, an observer to the real management of this company.

“Mr. Cirrus, Mr. Thayer here has offered me more operational details in an afternoon than you have offered me through the length of the project. Why is that?” Mr. King started off, seeming pretty calm.

Mr. Cirrus seemed taken off guard. “I’ve given you summaries every week, sir!”

Mr. King snickered. “Your one sentence blurbs are no longer going to cut it around here.” He paused. “Mr. Cirrus, Mr. Thayer, you’re both aware of how important it is we meet this deadline, correct?” Both men answered with an affirmative. “Then you’ll understand that I can’t afford a shakeup in your department right now. Mr. Cirrus, at the conclusion of this project, your role will turn into more of an advisory one. You will be teaching Mr. Thayer the ins and outs of your current job, and once he’s ready, I’ll be transferring you to a position in R&D.”

Mr. Cirrus sat there, with his mouth agape. “R&D? A demotion? Are you serious? After my department has hit all of its goals?”