The world belongs to those who won't shy away from a fight.
As one of the youngest female executives in the history of my company, I believe I qualify.
Oh, don't get me wrong, I don't have delusions of grandeur. I'm no politician, oil magnate, or billionaire. Ultimately, I'm still a cog in a very large machine. But I've only gotten to where I am by fighting, tooth and nail, for everything I have.
Every time I see the plaque outside my office door -- Monique Hartman -- it reminds me of all those who tried to slow me down. The world of corporate politics is for cutthroats. It's why so many people end up stuck in middle management, or worse, in a cubicle, for the rest of their lives.
They can't take the heat.
I certainly can. You don't get far in such a male-dominated industry as finance, as a woman, unless you've got -- in increasing order of importance -- brains, determination, and ruthlessness. I've had to put many men -- and a few women -- in their place. Their defeat has elevated my success.
It's that simple: a zero sum game.
Not many people are cut out for this life, and that's okay. There's no denying the sacrifices I've had to make. The lone university years, spent burning the midnight oil over books. The summers spent doing internships and volunteering and publishing articles, while everyone else was off holidaying.
I collected one academic accolade after another, while others collected friends. Where they lived intense and all-consuming relationships, I carefully built my CV. It was painful, at times. Required the suppression of my own desires.
Left me with the feeling that I was a permanent outsider, looking in.
But today I can say, with full confidence, that it was worth it. I have my own house, which I like. My husband Jason, whom I love. And my executive position... which I love even more.
So, if everything is so perfect... why do I feel so uneasy today?
There is one dissonant note these days. It's my new secretary, Heather Rawlings.
Not that there is anything wrong with the girl. It's just that I'm a creature of habit, and it will take me some time to get used to working with someone new.
Maybe.
Oh, who am I kidding? I know the real reason, and it has nothing to do with our work together.
So far, Heather has conducted herself very impressively. She's fresh out of university, but extremely professional, and surprisingly clever for someone working as a secretary.
I wondered, more than once, what's up with that -- but never felt bold enough to inquire directly to her.
That's the clue as to what unsettles me about her, actually. Secretaries in my field -- especially when assigned to big time executives like myself -- tend to bend over backwards, or lack self-confidence, or live in hope of career advancement.
Not so Heather. She is oddly... assertive. I usually feel no remorse bossing my employees around, but I'm considerably more guarded with her. I feel like there's an invisible line she won't let me cross.
She always holds her head high, and while she completes every task assigned to her, she manages to look non-deferential while carrying them out.
Her grit, her determination, the aura of supreme confidence that surrounds her at all times it... speaks to parts of me that I've repressed far too long. Like a crack of light, suddenly shining into a room that's been kept in darkness for years.
Giving what's inside a hope that it may be time to come out, at last.
I shudder at the thought, and repress it, again. It's worked for me so far.
But Heather... she reminds me of a younger version of me. I never had to work as a secretart, thank the heavens, but she has the same steel in her spine, and the same glimmer in her eyes.
There must be ten years between us, but sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a peer, rather than a secretary.
One such occasion is taking place right now.
"I don't understand," Heather says, in a matter-of-fact tone that fails to hide her simmering frustration. "Why do we have to enter the data twice? It took me a whole week last time, and it slowed the rest of my work down to a crawl!"
"Because the contractors who designed the IT system are dogs," I say, even-handedly. To be clear, Heather is absolutely correct. This is ridiculous, and I don't understand why we seem to always pick IT firms that overcharge and underdeliver.
But to have a secretary question company policy so openly in front of an executive is rare enough. It's not just that Heather is independently minded. She clearly gets so annoyed by other people doing a poor job. A trait I very much sympathise with.
Of course, her frustration is doubly justified in this instance. As my secretary, she'll have to enter my own employee records data as well as hers.
She stomps her foot in frustration on the floor -- nothing dramatic or unbecoming of the office, just a little tap -- but that draws my eyes to it nonetheless.
Heather is quite pretty to look at, and a redhead besides. I may be her boss, but I'm human and I have eyes. But it's her feet I've been paying attention to, lately. With worrying, increasing frequency.
The way they look in flats. The way they look in heels. The sheen of the black nylons as they catch the light.
That's another part of me that should just go back to the pit and stop bothering me. I fight to push it down every day, and it's exhausting.
I only half-listen as Heather mutters that she has more important work to do, and that the least the higher-ups can do is not saddle us with extra menial labour because they can't even pick the proper IT service provider.
And again, she's right. I do have a number of presentations and positioning papers coming up that require proofreading, a task I always assign her due to her excellent writing skills. My mind is elsewhere, though.
It goes right back to what I said earlier. I had to suppress -- sometimes crush -- my own desires to get here. Even with Jason, our love life is comfortable... but not really exciting.
Now that I'm an executive, now that most of my goals have been achieved, it's becoming harder and harder to keep the lid on what's been simmering underneath for years. I know I've missed out on so much, in my university years.
It was a necessary immolation. But now...
Now I wonder, more and more often, what it would be like to act on some of the fantasies I've always harboured.
I... don't even have real names for them. Not yet. I never allowed myself to delve too deep into them, after all.
But I know girls are definitely involved. And so are feet -- which some of my roommates mentioned frequently when talking about their sexual escapades. Often in the context of a power dynamic.
And... trance. That's something else I also overheard in my student years, and pointedly ignored. Perhaps because it sounded -- sounds -- too good to have a safe opportunity to get out of my own head for a while...
I gulp down. That's enough. I'm married, and Heather is my employee besides. I've kept my fantasies on lockdown for years. I can do the same now.
