Disclaimer: This story contains almost no useful information on how to deal with bullies.
You're going to say what you need to say and then leave. No backchat. Don't even let him speak. Just say it and walk away.
Fion tapped a foot on the elevator floor as it climbed to Level 12. At this time of day, most people were going down, so she was left alone, thankfully, in the small space. It gave her the silence she needed to think over her plan a few more times.
His is the office opposite the boardroom. Past Adam's desk, on the right. Door's usually open. Opposite the boardroom.
She rubbed her palms on her thighs. She took deep breathes in through the nose, out through the mouth and straightened her spine, raised her shoulders high, just like the book said to do. She'd worn heels to feel taller to feel more powerful. The balls of her feet hurt...
The lift stopped and the doors slid open. Directly ahead of her was an unmanned reception desk, behind which was the door marked EXECUTIVE C E ROGERSON and to the left, a short corridor leading to everyone else. Fion held up her chin and marched onward.
She met with numerous faces she knew as she walked by the rows of tables. They took double takes, confused; she didn't stop to chat. She took a cursory glance, out of habit, at her husband's desk as she passed. Up ahead on the right, the door that was usually open was closed.
She stopped. Lost. Was it too polite to knock? What if Rogerson and his assistant were in there for a meeting? She couldn't barge in. That would make things worse. She inched closer to the door and tried to listen. She caught pieces of a conversation... it was all one-sided... He was on the phone.
She opened the door and charged in, driven only partly by the embarrassment of being watched standing outside. She swung the door closed behind her and it slammed. Shit. She hasn't meant to do that.
Steven Baker looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. But if anything, he leaned back further in his chair, feet firmly planted on the desk, and continued to talk casually into the phone.
"No, it's fine. We've got a new batch of interns coming in next quarter, they can pick up the slack."
This was not how she imagined. She stood in silence, staring at him with what she meant to be pure indignation, waiting somewhat patiently now for him to finish up his call. He wasn't even looking at her anymore.
"You know what they're like. Most of them are students; they think it helps with their grades," he threw in a light chuckle for that last part.
An image flashed in her mind; Adam, three days ago, fighting back tears and almost breaking under the weight of it all. Fion lurched forward and stabbed two fingers into the phone bed, unceremoniously hanging up.
Now he was looking at her.
She straightened up and he calmly placed the phone back into its slot.
"Can I help you?"
"Leave my husband alone," her voice came out steadier than she ever dreamed.
He stared at her like he was waiting for a translation. "Who?"
"Adam Burke. He works on this floor. He does
your
work because you're a lazy, troglodyte pig and you bully him," she almost choked.
You got this.
"You force him to do things that aren't even part of his job and you berate him constantly. He's lost sleep because of you. Do you even realise how many nights he spent redrafting reports for you that were perfectly good to-"
Baker raised a hand to bid her pause.
"Troglodyte?"
"It means you're disgusting." She had no idea what it meant. "Leave my husband alone."
His eyes flicked to the full-length windows. The blinds, she only just noticed, were open and people were gleefully spying on the exchange from their posts.
"Let's talk over drinks," he rose from his chair and walked over to grab his coat.
