Jessica's Change Management Ch. 20
--- Week 4 -- Friday Morning ---
I was still catching my breath after barely making it back to the train in time. I mean, my agitation was totally valid, what with all that razzle-dazzle that had been going on during the stopover. Remember? Matty and Fatty taking me behind that wooden shed to teach me the meaning of those porn stunt thingies like 'water sports' and 'a2m'. It had been kinda informative, but more like sexist, and mostly exciting. I mean, the old hillbilly vendor interrupting us, watching the action, and giving me a facial had been really shocking. By contrast, his young hillbilly son making me pay for the box of tissues with my mouth had been totally expectable.
No matter what, all that fuss paled in comparison to what happened on the train. I got stopped by my boss, Ortega. Obviously, he had been looking for me, as he had been seated in the first class. I bet he would have loved witnessing that trivia game thingie. Oh well!
Anyhow, he seemed more interested in my progress with that workshop exercise. Apparently, he didn't give his ass-istants that much credit for coming up with creative stuff in a short time. As if! Yet, he wasn't wrong about it, what with me having absolutely no idea to show for. He was really upset about that, which was a good thingie, 'cause he didn't even notice my disheveled appearance and mussed up uniform in his anger.
Oh! Remember my outfit? The totally chic and super sexy sky-blue stewardess uniform with broad golden trim along the edges and broad golden belt. Despite the fancy style, the smug exec didn't detect the tiny drool splashes around the big oval-shaped cut-out at breast height. He didn't notice the mud stains on my golden ankle boots with 5" stiletto heels either.
"That's inconvenient! Surrounded by idiocy, I have to say." The Latino exclaimed. "But frankly, what did I expect?"
Breaking news! Ortega called me some variation of stupid, which was totally innovative, especially during this train ride... not! Whatever! He quickly started questioning me about some gossip spreading through the train about a cheap porn skank that was causing a stir with some indecent behavior. Apparently, the first-class passengers were afraid of getting pestered with a repellent and off-putting scene. Of course, daddy suspected his head bimbo, I mean airhead bimbo.
Obviously, I did a pretty convincing job of playing clueless 'cause he stormed off to find Shelly and quiz her without deigning me another look. Whatever! The rest of the train ride, I was occupied with two thingies. The first one was totally logical. I used the washbowl in the train's toilet facility to clean my uniform and reapply my makeup. The second one figured, too. I was servicing Matty and Fatty by fetching drinks and snacks and stuff for them.
--- Week 4 -- Friday Noon ---
Without another incident, we eventually arrived at our destination. It was a city well known to me 'cause I had gone to college here, not that it mattered much nowadays. When I met up with Shelly and Ortega outside the station, the smug exec had already hailed a cab. This time, the taxi driver ogled us chicks extensively via the rear-view mirror. Finally! I would have been totally disappointed otherwise.
Not only that, I couldn't help but entice his attention. Leaning forward super wide, I let him peek into the oval cut-out all the way to my belly button. Putting my fresh manicure to awesome use, I ran the tip of my golden Leopard-print nails all the way up my right leg. When I reached the hem of my uniform, I used the super long tip like a slider to ruck up the skirt inch by inch until it reached the curve of my booty. Eventually, I fetched my lip enhancer from my clutch and plumped up my lips, earning a chuckle from the cab driver.
The drive was too short for me to really get going, though, 'cause we arrived at the hotel way too soon. Stepping outta the car, Ortega reminded us to put those long black coats back on to hide our 'idiotic outfits'. I guess he wanted his ass-istants to literally fly under the radar for starters.
Entering the building, I noticed that this wasn't just a run-off-the-mill hotel. No way! Instead, it was a super fancy, ultra high-class five star hotel. Gasp! However, I noticed another thingie. I still hadn't come up with a somewhat creative idea for my workshop. Gulp!
I mean, I had been way too busy during the train ride, hadn't I? The taxi journey had been another distraction. After all, I had been obliged to give the driver a bitching show... sorta. In the end, wiggling around to let him leer at my curves was way easier than pondering ideas. Duh!
Whatever! I still had no clue what kinda conference we were attending. I would wait and look pretty until I had gathered all the information. Then I would make a spontaneous decision, like making a totally well-informed choice. Really clever, girl!
Anyhow, the type of conference became clear super quickly. You wanna know why? Cause it looked like a meeting of some kinda service club in the hotel lobby. You know these ultra elitist old-boy-societies for the business and cultural establishment? Just picture super old men in über-expensive suits sitting in mega vintage wing chairs smoking ultra luxurious hand-rolled cigars. Totally like that!
Kinda stunned, Shelly and I processed the surprise scenery. Meanwhile, Ortega received a message from the reception desk. After reading the note, he told us that an unexpected development had occurred. Some kinda thingie that made it necessary for us to meet the conference manager for a chat first. That was why we were heading over to a conference room. There, daddy stopped before entering. Turning around, he gave his ass-istants a stern look before addressing us.
"I have to make one thing clear, I suppose." Ortega said sternly. "I need to insist on you acting in a decent manner."
"We have to make up for your failure of losing projects, I'm afraid." He addressed me directly. "This is our chance to gain new contracts indeed."
"I cannot have you screw up again, Miss Bimbo. More to the point, I cannot tolerate any bimbo talk. If I hear words such as 'literally' or 'like', I have to give a penalty point for the outplacement center, I'm afraid." He added menacingly.
Um... gulp! I mean, it totally made sense. After all, we had to secure new projects to make money and maintain a professional appearance in fronta potential clients. However, I so couldn't tell if I could promise a difficult thingie like that. For sure, I could try but it had kinda become my go-to-talk. As soon as Ortega opened the office door, though, all of that was forgotten. Why? Cause I knew the manager and he knew me!
Shocker!
What was more, I couldn't hide my surprise when I saw him. Not at all! I was ultra startled and über-staggered, so much so that I didn't know what to do, so much so that I made some unintentional displacement activity thingie. What exactly? I gave my bestest duckface, like I was about to shoot a selfie.
Stunner!
Oh, you wanna know who the dude was? It was Mr. Moore. Remember him? He was the committee chairman from my failed project pitch. He was the old man with a coil of gray hair who had been totally annoyed with me. Worse than that, he wasn't alone. Next to him stood Mr. Wilson. That was the fat middle-aged committee member who had dropped the cap of his pen to peak up my skirt. The worsest? The grouchy chairman was just as vexed with my current presence as he had been during the pitch. He gave me a stone cold, icy glance. Noticing my 'duckface look' didn't make it any better 'cause he shook his head in dismissal, which literally shook me to the bone. Uh-oh! Good thingie, I didn't say that loud 'cause literally. Duh!
Meanwhile, my brain felt like it was about to explode. We were going to a conference managed by the company where I had given my final presentation? The one where I had totally screwed up? The one where I had totally embarrassed myself and my consulting firm? Oh no! Oh no, no, no!
This couldn't be true! This couldn't be happening! I so didn't want to meet the project committee again, like ever. I so didn't want them to see me as the total office bimbo, like ever. But wait! Just moments ago, I had yearned to be treated like a total bimbo by every passenger on the train. Not only had I craved it, I had basically demanded it! More than that, I had totally indulged in it. So confusing! So complicated!
That had been a different situation, though. It had been a different group of people, too. Still, people and places shouldn't matter, right? A bimbo should always be nice and happy and pleasing to men whenever, wherever, whatsoever. Too confusing! Too complicated!
Wake-up call!
All confusion aside, running into the committee functioned like an alarm call. Suddenly, I felt like someone had poured a cold shower over my head that brought me down to earth. Suddenly, I felt extremely embarrassed about the ditzy, stupid bimbo way in which I had acted. Suddenly, I felt extremely eager to behave like my former professional self again.
"Oh Mr. Moore! What a surprise to meet you here." Ortega quickly addressed the old chairman while I was busy fighting my internal struggle. "I didn't expect to see you, I have to say. Mr. Wilson told me he was the conference chair this time."
"I'm sorry but I have to stop you right there, Mr. Ortega." Moore interrupted the Latino exec with a piqued voice. "That question shouldn't relate to me but to her."
"What is she doing here?" He asked pointing at me.
Oh wow! The way he said 'she' was a mixture of rejection, disgust, and reproach, so much so that it caused a shiver to run down my spine. In response, I forgot to act like a serious business woman. By default, I pouted even harder and turned my head to show off my cholaface in a better light. What was I thinking? Did I expect the committee chair to change his opinion by seeing how much I had dolled up myself? Of course, he didn't! Of course, his icy glare intensified. Silly girl!
"I do understand your concerns, Mr. Moore, but there's no need to worry." Ortega tried to assuage the chairman. "I can tell you, we arranged all the details with Mr. Wilson in advance to avoid any sort of misunderstandings. Miss Addams won't give a presentation or lead a workshop, I can assure you."
The Latino tried his best to allay Moore's suspicions and quieten his concerns. The way he talked about me and my previous performance, however, rubbed me the wrong way. He acted like I had made a great number of mistakes and botched the project. That wasn't true, though. Despite the failed project pitch, the change management process had been a complete success as we had reached all our objects. In a nutshell, the committee had disliked my presentation style and decided to go in a different direction. In spite of that, the men acted as if the pitch was all that mattered. So unfair!
"Doubtful! Our company has certain standards that need to be upheld." The chairman didn't seem convinced.
"However, I might condone that colossal affront if I receive a formal apology." Moore offered.
