"Hey, did you check out the new boss yet?"
It was that pain in the ass Carl Dixon poking his head into my office.
"No, Carl. I didn't."
"You should. She's really something, gorgeous.
He was rubbing it in. The Vice-President of sales job was supposed to be mine. My twenty-five years at BLF industries apparently meant little to the president, Archie Hawthorne. We'd had our differences in the past, but I had always been his top salesman. Selling his fiberglas storage units wasn't easy. Now, he passed me over and hired a woman from outside the company.
"I guess I'll go down and meet her," I said.
Hell, I'd already made up my mind to make this work. I still made a good buck, and anyway it wasn't her fault that Archie was an asshole and gave her the job. What was she supposed to do? Refuse it?
It was a short walk down a narrow hallway from my small, gray office with no window, to the oversized, luxurious VP office with windows looking out over Sunset Lake.
Ms. Hunter. They didn't waste any time painting her name on the door. I knocked.
"Come in."
And there was Ms. Hunter just sitting at her desk, yet knocking the wind out of me with her striking beauty. She wasn't "just" a woman. She was a black woman, and gorgeous, as Carl Dixon had said.
She rose from her chair and stuck out her hand, "I'm Barbara Hunter," she said.
"I'm-she interrupted.
"I know who you are. Archie pointed you out to me this morning when you came in. He told me that I should watch out for you. That you might hold some resentment."
She had come around the desk and was standing only a few feet from me. Her big, brown eyes dominated my soul and made my heart beat faster. I took her hand.
"I don't have to watch out for you, Terry. Do I?"
Her voice, gentle but commanding made me want to hear more. Ms. Hunter's hand was tiny and her nails unpainted, and long. Despite her tiny hand, she was about 5'9" with big bones and an athletic grace to her movements.
"You don't have to worry about me," I said. "You never did. Archie is just an asshole."
She laughed and motioned for me to sit in the big, black leather chair in front of her large, mahogany desk. I had trouble concentrating. She must have noticed this.
"We'll keep how you feel about Archie, between us. Still, I know it must be difficult for you to have not only a much younger boss, but a woman on top of that."
"Look, Ms. Hunter..."
"You can call me Barbara."
"I'd rather not. You're my boss. You deserve my respect."
"All right. It's your call, Mr. Shay."
"As I was saying, I'm fifty-two years old. I'm white. I've been all over the world, and one thing I am not, is prejudiced against women in the workplace. That you are a black woman makes no difference to me. I prefer it, actually. I would rather have you than some whiney, complaining, spoiled white woman who has lived her whole life as a privileged citizen and then benefits from being a "minority," while black women get the crumbs. It may bother me some that you are younger, and less experienced, but I hope that you will come to me any time you need anything or have a question. My experience is yours to tap."
"I, uh...you are a gentleman. Thanks for the generous offer. But how do you know that I was not "privileged?"
"Like I said, I've been around. I sense that you've had to work for everything you have. Like myself. I'm impressed with that type of person."
"You're observant. I did grow up poor. But my parents loved me and took care of me and taught me to take care of myself and not be afraid to work for a goal."
"And you've done well," I said. "I better get back or you'll be getting on my ass for not working."
We both laughed. I got up and she came around the desk again. I was glad, it was fun to watch her graceful movements fill the room. Walking me to the door, she said, "Have dinner with me tonight. You can fill me in on some things."
"I'd like that. Where?"
"My home. I'll cook. One forty-four N. Colgate. Eight."
Dinners with the boss were not uncommon in the sales game, so it was no big deal getting out and away from my nagging, spoiled wife.
