What the fuck? That was the thought running through my head as I sat there and watched the statuesque blonde stand in front of the room and shit on my plan.
"Where is the plan for television? I want to put this company on the map. Clearly, you're thinking small. I'm beginning to think I was wrong about hiring you," she said. On and on she went, and the more she spoke, the angrier I became. Finally, I interrupted her.
"Excuse me Amanda. You're asking a boatload of questions without waiting for a single answer," I said.
"Clearly, you don't have any," was her retort. "That's the problem."
"Perhaps you'd like to take this discussion off line later on during break?"
"Well, we might as well break now. From what you have just presented, this entire sales conference is going to be a complete waste of time. The cost of this debacle will come out of your bonus, if you even get one," she huffed. "The morning meeting is officially over. I expect everyone back here at two this afternoon, sharp." And you," she said, pointing at me. "Meet me by the pool at noon." With that, she stormed out of the room.
I was two months into my new job as the Chief Marketing Officer of a commercial real estate company. Two months wasn't an awfully long time to prepare a multi-year marketing plan designed to drive substantial growth, but I felt quite confident that I had an excellent strategy. My presentation was flawless, and everyone in the room grasped what I was trying to do. Everyone, that is, except for one Amanda Peters, the CEO.
Amanda had brought me on board after an extensive interview process. She was well aware of what I was capable of, because I had worked for a competitor that had gone from an also ran to one of the market leaders. I had leapfrogged Amanda's company on the way up. During the interviews, Amanda had made it very clear that she wanted a change from the approach the company had been using. They did not have a clear, integrated marketing approach. Instead, they threw money around, seemingly without thought or purpose. There was no real analysis as to what worked and what didn't. Amanda not only wanted growth, she wanted to be able to measure the return on marketing dollars she invested.
I sat alone in the conference room, fuming. She had let loose a ten minute diatribe that argued for exactly the type of plan that she specifically told me she didn't want. There is no way I would have taken this job if I knew she was going to stick with this type of approach. Failure was not something that I tolerated, and her ideas would lead to failure.
The door opened and the head of finance walked in, followed by the VP of sales.
"I guess it's time to officially welcome you to the company," said the finance guy, Sam Collins. He looked at the sales VP and shrugged. "It's getting a bit tiresome to have to do this every time she hires someone, isn't it Ross?"
Ross let out a sigh. "Yes it is." He turned his attention over to me. "Don't feel bad. She does this shit to everyone. She is batshit crazy," he laughed.
"I knew that she had a bit of a reputation, but I really didn't expect this."
"She spends an awful lot of effort and money making sure that her reputation doesn't get completely tarnished out in the marketplace," said Sam. "We call her the black widow around here. She has terminated more careers than you can imagine."
"What the fuck is her problem," I asked.
"We don't know," said Sam. "She just seems to thrive on intimidating people and breaking them down, especially men. She has made a few literally break down and cry in meetings in front of their colleagues. I think she gets off on it. There was this one meeting," he said, trailing off.
"What?"
Ross continued for him. "The part that's really fucked up is that she does it to the best, brightest, most confident people. She breaks them. I swear, there was this one meeting that she just brutalized this poor guy. He was crying, snot was dripping down from his nose. The look on her face...we are both convinced that she had an orgasm sitting there watching this guy bawling and begging to keep his job."
"Get the fuck of out here," I laughed.
"Mike, I'm completely serious," he said. When Sam said we think she gets off on this shit, he meant it quite literally."
"We're reasonably convinced she keeps men locked up in a cage at her home. One of those types," Sam laughed.
"Have there been any rumors about that kind of stuff?"
"Not like that. But she does seem to like to play games with people. She comes onto them in very subtle ways. Nothing concrete that you could pin on her, but little things that add up over time. You know. In a one on one meeting, she might have her blouse buttoned a bit too low. Or she might do that crossing and uncrossing of her legs like Sharon Stone in that Basic Instinct movie. Stuff like that. When she realizes she has someone's attention, she really pours it on, until they finally make a move. Once they do, she lashes out at them. Demeans them. She pretends to be in shock that they would do such a thing. She has fired several. It's insanity."
"What about the board? Has anyone ever gone to them?
Sam and Ross looked at each other. "Daddy is Chairman," said Ross. "What do you think?"
"Well, thanks for the input guys. I wasn't anticipating this, but I'll have to plan accordingly," I said, a smile coming across my face as the inklings of an idea took root in my brain.
I went up to my room and got changed, pulling on a pair of loose black swim trunks and a baggy linen shirt. I grabbed some sunscreen and a book, and headed down to the main pool. At least she has good taste, I thought as I walked. Escaping the tail end of a New York City winter at the Hotel del Coronado in San Diego was at least one good thing Amanda had done. I scanned the pool area for Amanda, and she wasn't yet there. Neither was anyone else, really. It was nearly deserted. I selected a lounge chair facing the sun, and settled into it. I slipped on my sunglasses, and spent some time concocting a plan in my head.
At about 11:45, there was a commotion over by the pool entrance, and a moment later Amanda walked through the gate and into the pool area. She was followed by a pool attendant carrying several towels and a bag that Amanda had brought down. She was barking orders at him and he scurried trying to keep up with her.
Amanda was wearing nothing but a black bikini that left little to the imagination. She was nearly six feet tall, and in the high heel sandals she was wearing, she approached my height of six-four. She had long legs that led to a perfect ass, and was well toned with all the right female curves. Being an athlete myself, I could tell that this was a woman that worked hard, picking up heavy things and training for performance. She had a perfect pair of natural tits, a full C cup that strived to be a D. On top of all that, she was beautiful. High cheekbones, full, soft lips, and bright blue-green eyes that stood out like neon. Add her long blonde hair, and it was easy to see how she had been able to manipulate so many men.
She had the attendant put towels on the lounge next to me and open her umbrella, and then waved him away without a second look. Her hair was pulled back tight into a bun, as she always wore it in the office. Amanda stood at the foot of my chair, quite theatrically undoing the bun and shaking her hair out into a full blonde mane. I sat there with my arms crossed watching her closely, just as I did as she made her way across the pool area. I was intentionally being obvious about watching her and examining her body. She turned towards me and scowled.
"What the hell are you looking at," she growled. "You're down here on business, and you sit here and openly leer at me? I'm the CEO of this company! What's wrong with you," she demanded."
"I could ask you the same thing. You've asked me, a coworker, to meet you by the pool, and then you come down here, practically naked, making as much of a scene as you possibly can. Flaunting your body, and making sure I notice it. And then, you call me out for looking at you? That's pretty comical."
"Oh, I get it. You're one of those...the woman was asking for it types, huh?"
"Asking for what," I asked her.
"To get raped! You know damned well what I meant."
"Am I raping you right now?"
"You know what I mean, "she hissed.
"Actually, I don't at all think such a thing. But I'll tell you what I do know. When a woman comes down to a public pool dressed like you are dressed, and behaves how you have behaved, she is demanding to be noticed."
"I came down here to get a tan. That's why I'm dressed like this."
"To get a tan?"
"Yes. To get a tan. Did you not understand me the first time?"
I laughed. "Then why did you ask me to meet you down here?"
"I can talk and tan at the same time. It's called multi-tasking.
"Ah, I see," I said with a smile on my face. "Well, let's have at it then, shall we?"
"I need to put on sunscreen first," she snapped.
"What happened to that whole multitasking thing," I chuckled.
Amanda glared at me as she applied sunscreen. When she had put it everywhere she could reach, she held the bottle out to me. "Do my back," she commanded.
"Excuse me? I'm not smearing sunscreen all over your body. Why don't you ask the pool boy to do it for you?"
"You're kidding, right? Do you really think that I want his disgusting, chubby little Mexican fingers on my flesh?"
"Are you saying that you want MY fingers on your flesh?"
"There you go again. No. I want sunscreen on so I don't burn. Are you really that stupid?"
"Wow, Amanda. You really are a charmer," I replied. "I think you're safe, seeing as you're sitting under an umbrella anyway. Now, what is it that you wanted to talk about?"
