Linda Hu stared at her computer screen for a good ten minutes, even though it only took seven seconds to read the email. She double-and triple-checked the sender and recipient lines to make sure they were legitimate, then re-read the content one last time:
"Reid, plz double-check this. Linda thinks the comp plan impact projections are wrong. that gook finance bitch should stick to handling the impact projection under my desk."
The email came directly from Mike Davison, Sales VP at the Voelker Corporation where Linda was interning this summer as a rising sophomore. Linda wasn't in Sales herself and didn't report to Mike, but as a Finance intern, found herself doing a lot of work to support him in compensation analysis for his sales team. She was also, without question, the 'gook finance bitch' referenced in the email. Aside from her name being Linda, she was very Asian, her Chinese mom and Korean dad had met as immigrants in the US.
Mike was clearly unhappy with Linda's modeling of his latest compensation proposal. Linda cautioned that it would drastically overpay Mike's sales team members and hurt profitability, even if the team increased their sales by 20 percent. It seems Mike meant to complain to the other Finance intern, Reid. Mike must've overlooked that Reid's internship ended last week for his school schedule, so all of Reid's emails were now forwarding to Linda.
Linda was somewhat surprised, but not shocked by Mike's email. It was certainly dumb to send something like that over his work email. Mike was probably in his mid fifties; old enough, wealthy enough, and provided enough "cultural commentary" that she could guess how he voted.
He'd said a couple stupid things before, repeatedly mistaking her for Japanese with jokes about karaoke and anime, and even made a reference to her "going kamikaze" one time. But in a business email she would've expected something more subtle, like, "Someone like her should know math better." This email was certainly an escalation.
It was maybe also disappointing because there was something about Mike that Linda had considered attractive, all things considered. He was a successful salesman, tall and broad shouldered, so he had an inherent charm, with a masculine face and a good head of silver hair. His sharp sales suits also did a good job hiding the inevitable dad bod that was starting to win out.
She took a quick moment to reexamine the Excel model she'd sent to Mike. Maybe he was right and she'd made a mistake...but she hadn't. She didn't make mistakes.
Her hand hovered over her mouse as she carefully weighed her next steps.
Saved it to her jump drive. Forwarded it to her personal email. Printed it. She wanted all the copies in all their forms.
She poked her head out of her cubicle and scanned down to Mike's big, glass windowed office. Quarter past four and he was gone already, probably at the golf course or bar. Not a big deal. She could start tomorrow. She never left early, but she could use the time to collect herself, so she quickly packed her messenger bag and left the office, quiet except for her heels clicking behind her.
The next morning, Linda kept poking her head out of her cubicle to see if Mike had arrived in his office yet, but hours passed and there was no sign of him. She didn't have to look though because around 11, she heard him at the far end of the office, loudly blabbering about a deal on his phone as he stepped onto the floor.
"I'm telling you, Connor, they wouldn't still be in negotiations with you if they had a better price somewhere else." Mike was confidently coaching one of his team members on the phone. "You've got 'em by the balls, man! Close it."
He went quiet again as he went into his office and closed his door. Every few minutes, Linda poked her head out of her cubicle to check for him getting off his call. When she peeked out at 11:45, he was done, his back to his office door, which was reopened, and he was reading something on his computer.
Linda took a deep breath, grabbed a few papers and headed toward Mike's office. She stood in his doorway and knocked on the frame. As he spun his office chair around, Linda took the opportunity to really examine him more than she ever had before, sizing up if she wanted to go ahead with her plan. Everything about him was so fratty, which she hated. But also DILF-y, which she loved. She was doing it.
Mike gave a friendly enough smile, one that hid he'd called Linda a "gook bitch" yesterday.
"What's up, Linda?" He asked.
"First of all," She began coldly. "The projections are right. I don't make mistakes in my models."
Mike's face fell. She'd never been this direct with him, and this was the first time he'd sized her up face to face. Before he'd admired how her slight hips swayed when she walked past his office. Or he'd note her porcelain skin, fluttering eyes, and modest makeup when she was taking notes in the corner of a meeting they were both in. But now she was standing in his doorway and staring right at him, wearing her black heels, gray pencil skirt, and white blouse, her hair up in a slightly messy bun.
"Okay, uh..." Mike wasn't understanding the information Linda had. "I guess we can set up some time to take a look at it again."
"Great," Linda responded sharply. "Six o'clock this evening."
Mike laughed and shook his head at a 19-year old intern telling him to work late. "I have a four-thirty tee time today," he explained.
"I think you'll want to cancel it to review the projections." She responded again.
Mike shook his head, incredulous at how dense she seemed, spinning back to face his computer. "You know what, Linda? I sent it to Reid. He'll take a look at it and let me know if there's anything I should change."
"Yeah..." Linda took a deep breath, knowing she was approaching a point of no return. "The tricky thing is Reid ended his internship a week ago. So I get his emails now."
Mike straightened up slightly, staring blankly into his computer screen. Slowly, he pulled up the email he'd sent from his phone when he was in the car yesterday, as if to confirm the contents. He started to spin in his chair but Linda turned and left too.
"Let's talk at six, Mike." She said before she went through his doorway, heart racing with adrenaline from the power play she'd just made, and leaving Mike to ponder the implications.
He rubbed his temples as he considered what would happen next. Probably termination, these days. It didn't matter how successful a VP he was. And at his age...it was hard to imagine getting another job that paid as well as Voelker. What would his wife Stephanie think? Would he have to tell his kids they had to take out student loans? He wracked his brain for a way out of this.
Six o'clock rolled around and all the employees on the floor had left and the cleaning crew had come through.
Linda went back into Mike's office with her tablet and some papers under arm, as if to take notes in case anyone stumbled across them.
"So..." Linda said, sitting down in one of the simple stationary chairs across from Mike's desk.
"So..." Mike replied louder, confidently. It caught Linda off guard.
"Projections look GREAT," he continued, acting like the conversation earlier had never happened. "Thanks for doing those. Great work. You've got a bright future here. And...it's crazy...when I was looking back through my email for the file, I saw the wildest email in my sent box to you. I am SO sorry you got that. I must've been hacked. I'll tell IT first thing in the morning."
Linda stared blankly, blinked a few times, then smirked. "That's what you came up with after five hours?" She asked, shaking her head. Mike's face fell. "I don't really know why every time you boomers do something stupid, you think you can write it off as a 'hack' or 'fake news'. Aren't you the one always telling us we don't have any sense of personal responsibility? Are you seriously going to report a 'hack'?"
