Chapter 8 -- From Hera...
Note to readers:
Tethys has recounted her own version of this episode in "
Tethys, Growing the Tribe"
which you can find under
MimiRay's
author index.
They don't completely correspond, because she wasn't present for part of my adventure, and I wasn't present for part of hers, but we have compared notes, and they're reasonably compatible.
To me, it's a much better story because we shared most of it.
It wouldn't have been nearly so much fun had it only happened to her.
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There may have been a little spring I my step when I walked into the office on Wednesday morning. I wasn't late. I got there a little before most of my colleagues, and I was present when Beth walked in. I didn't know if I was looking forward to seeing her or dreading it. I'd been embarrassed a fair number of times in my life up to this point, even humiliated, but what had transpired Monday had possibly been the most unexpected, shocking, and deep humiliation of my entire life. It beat out even the shame of girls mocking my misshapen cock.
I was her senior, supposed to be her mentor. She was a new hire, still learning the ropes. I was to show her the ropes. But what I had showed her on Monday was, while ropelike in some respects, far beyond any conceivable assignment or instruction that I could have expected to give, or she to receive. A mistimed text from Tethys, embedding a photo that I very unwisely, and naively opened in full view of Beth, very graphically displayed a spread-out Sonia in all her glory holding Henri's monstrous black cock, and exploded Beth's opinion of me in an instant.
It was a professional relationship in which I held the power and authority, she was my subordinate. But now I was the one in the position requiring groveling. She could end my job, and from the smirk she directed my way as she walked past my cubicle, I knew she knew it. I hadn't even had the opportunity to discuss it with Tethys yet, she had no idea of what she'd done. I spent a few moments with my head in my hands, and then logged into my computer to check my emails. While I'd been off having an orgy party yesterday during working hours, Beth could have easily been talking to HR and lodging a complaint. I felt a knot grow in my stomach as I checked my email. This could be the last time I ever logged in here.
There was an email from my supervisor, sent yesterday afternoon. I opened it with some trepidation.
"Hope you enjoyed your day off.
For tomorrow continue training Beth. I think she understands our commenting and code formatting policy pretty well.
Take her through multiprocessing and thread management next.
That may take a couple of days.
I hope you two get along.
Confidentially:
I don't trust Vance with her, so you might be the one stuck with her for most of her training."
Well, at least I wasn't fired yet. Maybe she hadn't said anything. But having to train her? She obviously didn't like me, and I was quickly developing an aversion to her as well. I spent the next half hour or so reviewing the material myself, not that I didn't know it, but I'd never really had to explain it before. I turned my phone off and put it out of sight.
Beth showed up just before I had decided to get up and collect her.
"More training today, right?" she sounded a little chirpy. Maybe that was worse than sullen. Shit, was she running a victory lap around me or something?
"Yeah, are you ready for spawning processes?"
"Must be spawning season. Speaking of, how's your Chinese girlfriend and Stallion?" There was that smirk again.
I'm sure I looked extremely uncomfortable. "She's not Chinese, she's not my girlfriend, and you said you didn't want me to bring up my personal life." Beth let me stew for a few minutes, then she lowered her voice.
"Taylor, I didn't say anything, ok? I did ask around yesterday, and everybody says you're a good guy, nobody implied that you're a creep. You know, if I raised a stink on my first day and got you fired over an accident, I'd be the one who was toast around here. I'm already on thin ice just for being a woman in a man's world, I'm not trying to be a hated woman."
"You're not on thin ice!" I corrected her. "We don't pull that shit here. I know programmers have a bad reputation for not having social skills, and I don't claim to have any either, but here in this office we're all professionals, and we're going to treat you like a professional. Well, most of us will, anyway. If anybody gives you a hard time, let me know, and if you don't trust me, then let the boss know. I won't be backstabbing you. And I'm not trying to turn it back on you, either. It's not your fault. I should know better than to open a picture from Tethys at work. It won't happen again."
"I believe you. Case closed." So why was she still smirking?
We got through the day, and at least I had no lingering worries about her knowledge or ability to handle the tasks. We expected those we hired to already know the basics, what required specific training was mostly regarding our organization's own idiosyncratic way of approaching what would otherwise be universal good-practice programming paradigms. I didn't invent the rules, nor would I had I been the one to compile our style guide. But I and everyone else here had to adhere to them.