"Don't feel bad about yesterday, Asifa, it's only natural, and besides, I like it when women fart," Clive Winston said enthusiastically, and he flashed Asifa Thumar a rather suggestive wink. You did not just say that, Asifa thought, flabbergasted by what her co-worker just said. Asifa's sheer discomfort regarding every word that came out of Clive's mouth somehow went over his head.
The two of them sat inside the crowded food court inside the Rideau Shopping Center. Asifa had dined there many times, but couldn't remember a more awkward dining existence in recent memory. Asifa blushed and looked at Clive, who seemed oblivious to her concerns. Presently, Clive was taking a look at something of great importance on his phone.
Clive is unreal, Asifa thought, shaking her head gently. The young woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat, intensely regretting having had a ton of beans for lunch the previous day. It's an odd thing, not being able to trust your own body. Asifa's culinary choices led to an unforgettable aftermath. Thanks to a moment of gastrointestinal discomfort, Asifa felt like she was becoming the company laughingstock.
Like I'm the first woman to fart in a staff meeting, Asifa thought morosely. Just thinking about what happened made Asifa want to dig a hole and disappear inside of it. Asifa hadn't felt this embarassed since, during a flight from Paris to India, she ate something which didn't agree with her and spent a LONG time in the restroom.
Asifa looked at Clive, wondering how to get out of that conversation with a shred of dignity intact. She felt like wringing Clive's neck, since it was his fault that the staff meeting had dragged on and on. Oh, and to add insult to injury, Asifa's boss James Rawlings assigned her to work with Clive on a new special project...
Clive Winston epitomized a new kind of corporate person, at least in the minds of many. Six feet tall, lean and athletic, with dark chocolate skin and a shaved head, Clive had Afro-Caribbean good looks and a type of rugged masculinity found more among day laborers and construction guys than tech dudes. He insisted on wearing fancy suits at the office and liked to remind everyone at KPMG of his fancy business degree from McGill. Asifa thought of Clive as a pompous ass.
"Um, thanks, I apologize once again," Asifa Thumar said finally, and Clive nodded. When addressing her colleague, Asifa spoke softly, like the prim and proper young lady that her conservative South Asian family raised her to be. Still, Asifa's eyes communicated everything that her lips did not utter, and an oblivious or deliberately obtuse Clive shrugged and took a sip of his Pepsi.
At KPMG, Clive had something of a reputation as a skirt chaser, and Asifa knew to be wary of him. Ladies at work let her know all about his bad habits. Clive had been warned by human resources. Asifa could see why Clive thought he could get away with the things he allegedly said and did. The guy was easy on the eyes, sure, but he did seem to have an inflated opinion of himself...
"Don't fret, my pet," Clive said, and he smiled patronizingly at Asifa, and resumed browsing on his phone. Asifa fumed, and felt her eyes grow moist. In today's Canadian business world, where men are encouraged to be polite to the ladies, lest they get sued or fired, Clive liked to give people ( mostly women ) unwanted little nicknames. Also, the bozo just told Asifa that he liked women's farts. Seriously, what's up with that?
"Please call me Miss Thumar," Asifa replied icily and Clive finally looked up from his phone, flashed her a wan smile and nodded. If he saw the look of pure fury on her face, he certainly didn't react to it. Clive is one of those guys with the gift of being blissfully unaware of anything that messes with his flow. Or so he likes to think of himself. Asifa thinks of Clive as a pain in the ass...
"Alright, Miss Thumar, I was looking over facts and figures, we need to branch out, extend the KPMG brand to companies like Mitel, Avaya, Canada Post and others," Clive said, effortlessly switching to a businesslike tone. Asifa looked at him, startled and fascinated by Clive's change in tone, demeanor and body language. The guy was indeed full of surprises...
"Let's get to work," Asifa said, and she finished what was left of her meal with a speed that astounded Clive. The two of them walked up the escalator, and headed to the Mackenzie King Bridge, the hub of all Ottawa. From there, they could see the offices of local tech giants like Shopify and of course KPMG in the distance.
While Asifa practically made a beeline for the doors, she bumped someone...hard. The person happened to be a tall, lean white dude with tattoos, a shaved head and unfriendly eyes. He looked coldly at the short, plump young Indian woman and Asifa actually shrank before such a gaze. Nevertheless, she mumbled an apology.
"Watch where you're going, bitch," said Mr. Tattoos, and Asifa actually flinched in the face of such raw hostility. Why was the dude so mad about? Asifa was puzzled by this. She hadn't bumped him this hard, and he didn't have to be so damned rude. Looking into Mr. Tattoos face, Asifa summoned a reply, but before she could utter it, things got dicey...
"Hey, buddy, you don't talk to the lady like that," Clive said, and he surprised the hell out of Asifa by placing himself between her and Mr. Tattoos. The two men went back and forth, trading insults, and looked like they were about to get into it. People walking by stared at them. Asifa found the whole situation surreal, this wasn't happening...
