I glanced at my watch. 4:33 pm. Friday afternoon. God, it's been one hell of a week. My mind couldn't function any more. I was in our file room pulling vouchers for an internal audit first thing Monday morning. As a seasoned cost analyst, I was overqualified for such a task. The truth is that I volunteered for this job. Mindless work was exactly what I needed.
4:34. Thinking about my weekend plans. My thirty-something girlfriends and I always meet up for happy hour on Friday nights. I could almost taste the salt on the rim of that margarita glass.
The door opened and a familiar voice called out, "Donna?"
"Yeah, I'm over here, Kathy."
Our department secretary continued, "Jeff is looking for you."
"You've got to be kidding. After yesterday, I really didn't expect to see his smug face around here anytime soon."
"Yesterday?" Kathy inquired.
"You didn't hear about that? Oh, my God. I thought everyone had heard." I had told this story at least a dozen times today, but didn't mind repeating it. "You know how Jeff never follows procedures? I had a stack of invoices from Brooks Electric, and most of them didn't reference purchase orders. I spent half my day working on this spreadsheet for him, trying to match things up, check unit costs against our agreement and such. So I asked him to stop by for a few minutes to sign off on the paperwork."
"I don't know why I try to be nice to that man," I continued. "It was his job to do the matching. So, after he approved everything, I reminded him that we were supposed to have purchase order numbers on all invoices. And then he went off on me."
"You're surprised?" asked Kathy. "We are talking Jeff, with a capital J. That stands for
Jerk
.
"I know, I know. I should expect as much. So, anyhow, that's when he called me a paper-pushing bean counter. He said he was too busy doing real work to deal with such things. As if
my
time isn't valuable? I just spent the entire morning straightening out his mess, doing something that's really not my job. So ..." I continued with an upturned mouth, "I told him to fuck off."
Kathy gasped. I loved that incredulous look on her face. I'm not the type of person to use that sort of language, so this was big news.
"Yeah. I've worked here eight years and this was the first time I told anyone to fuck off. Felt pretty good, actually."
Kathy laughed nervously. "Oh, that's precious. But stupid, Donna. He's the Network Manager."
"Yeah, I know," I responded. "I immediately walked into Sue's office and confessed my sins. She gave me a lecture on proper behavior, threatened to put it in my records if I did it again. But she'll cover me. I'm not worried."
"Well, anyhow" Kathy said, "Jeff is waiting for you."
Waiting for me
? I thought. That sounds good. I had about a dozen more vouchers to find and decided to take my time. "Tell him I'll be with him in a few minutes."
"Gotcha," Kathy stated as she walked out the door.
4:40. I slowed my pace to a crawl. I figured I'd wait until a few minutes before quitting time before returning to my office. Whatever he wants, I'll tell him it has to wait until next week. Perfect.
4:44. I heard the door open. Without looking up, I smiled and mused, "What's wrong, Kathy. Is the jerk getting impatient?"
A deep voice responded, "Jerk?" I knew that voice. It was Jeff.
"Oh, Jeff. It's you", I acknowledged unemotionally. Jeff followed my voice and stopped within a foot of me, purposely invading my personal space. His appearance was intimidating. Jeff was in his 50s, built like a linebacker, tall and husky, with his mostly white hair shortly cropped like a new Marine recruit. I took a step back and glanced into Jeff's steely blue-grey eyes. "I hate to keep you waiting but the auditors will be here first thing Monday morning. I absolutely have to get this done."
Jeff looked at the stack of folders I had pulled, rested the palm of his hand on them, causing the pile to topple. "Sorry," he said without emotion. I waited a second to see if he would pick them up, but he didn't move.
"Thanks, Jeff. You're a real jewel." I bent over and started picking up the folders, returning them in numerical order.
"So, you are not the slightest bit curious why I'm here, Donna?
I ignored him as best I could, and continued to pick up the folders.
He continued, "When the Network Manager pays you a visit, it may not be because of silly invoices. I have many roles and responsibilities, you know. Now, I can see that you are busy, so let's say you meet me in my office today at 5:30 sharp."
Without looking up from the folders I said, "No can do, Jeff. I've made plans after work. Why don't you check my scheduler and we can pick this up next week?"
Jeff rested his hand on the stack of folders I had been sorting, preventing me from working. I glared at up at him. He was peeking down my blouse, and I disliked the smug look on his face. "You're still not getting this, Donna. If you value your job, you
will
see me at 5:30." He turned his back and left the room.
To say that I hated Jeff would be an understatement. My heart started racing, and I could feel my face growing red with anger. I took comfort in the thought that I had cleared my sins with Sue. He had nothing on me.
5:04. Stack of folders in hand, I returned to my office.
The hell with Jeff
, I thought to myself.
It's time for happy hour
. I reached for my purse, pulled out the compact and started fixing my make-up.
Not bad
, I thought to myself. My wavy blonde shoulder-length hair was still presentable. I touched up the lipstick and applied some fresh powder. Halfway out the door, I realized that I forgot to log off. When I returned to my desk I noticed that I had an unread mail message on my monitor ... from Jeff. Subject: "Tonight's meeting." I laughed and then closed my mail application. But curiosity got the best of me. If nothing else this whole episode with Jeff would make a good story at happy hour.
I reopened my email and then double clicked on his message. It read: "Below is a list of web sites that you have accessed within the past 30 days that do not appear to be work related. This is a violation of our Internet Use policy. Considering the extent of the abuse, my recommendation to management in these sorts of cases would be immediate termination." My face grew flushed as I reviewed the list. OK, so I used the internet. Sure, I made some travel reservations, did some banking, played some on line games, read the news, placed a few E-Bay bids. I hit page down and the list continued. There were the My Space entries. I checked the weather. I had read reviews of the new movies. Page down again. More web sites. Page down again. I hadn't thought I abused the internet, but this wasn't looking good.
I wondered if Sue would support me. At my last review she'd commented that I was professional, productive, and quality oriented. But would that be enough? Sue's also got her eye on the Comptroller position, which should be opening in a few months. With so much at stake, I doubted that she would go to battle for me when I had clearly violated company policy.
To be fired, at this point, would be devastating. The ink on my divorce papers hadn't dried yet, and I was just getting by. Thanks to the ex, the only way I could purge myself of his gambling debts was to declare bankruptcy. I didn't have any credit ... only a debit card. And that wasn't going to hold out much longer.
This was revenge, pure and simple, and I knew it. But that didn't matter. Jeff had me. At least until I could find another job.
5:30. I was outside Jeff's office, prompt, just as requested. His door was open but he was on the phone. His tall, bulky frame leaned back in his chair, feet up on the desk. I could hear him laughing. He swiveled around, glanced in my direction, and then turned his back to me again. I took a seat in the outer office.
5:39. More laughing from Jeff's office. This was a power play, pure and simple. Inside I was furious. Outwardly, I was calm. I wasn't going to let the jerk win. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of acting anything but calm. I reminded myself not to play the "helpless girl" card. And whatever was to happen, I would make sure that there would be no emotional outburst.
Keep calm, Donna
, I coached myself.
5:44. I heard Jeff wrap up the call. I stood up and moved towards the door, but Jeff picked up the receiver and made yet another call. I returned to the seat outside the office. This time he was making an appointment to get his hair cut. I heard him say, "No problem. Take your other call. I can wait."
5:48. Jeff hung up the phone, but I dared not move towards the door again. I heard Jeff approaching me, so I stood up. Except that he walked right past me, saying, "Sorry, honey, I'll be back in a few minutes." I sat down as he headed towards the restrooms.
5:56. Let's see. After the restroom, he took a long drink of water. Then he started reading the bulletin board. Finally he passed me on the trip back to the office. Without stopping or looking at me, he stated unemotionally, "You may come in now, Donna."
Jeff reclined in his chair, with his feet on the desk. I followed him in, unable to sit in the side chair which was cluttered with an assortment of papers.
Part of his game
, I thought. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Without attempting to sit down, I stood directly in front of his desk. "Jeff, let's cut to the chase. What do you want?"
Jeff seemed amused with my confidence. He put his feet down and reached for his pencil cup, sending the contents to the floor.
"For one," Jeff started, "You can pick up my pens."
I leaned over and picked up the pens and pencils, returning them to the cup. I wished that I hadn't worn a skirt to work that day, particularly such a short one. But this was Friday, and that's what I typically wear to Happy Hour. When I'm out I enjoy the attention that I get; men tend to check out my long, thin legs.
I knew that the spilt pencil cup was a planned game. Jeff is just so creepy. In conversation, he'll unashamedly stare at an attractive woman's chest in lieu of her eyes. He'll turn his head and follow a skirt.
"I don't see the red marker, Donna. Would you be a dear and check again?"
I glanced at the area again. Innocently, I replied, "Sorry, Jeff, I don't see it."
"It's got to be there, Donna. Oh, look, it rolled over here ..." referring to the leg room under his desk, "Would you mind?" I'm sure he planted that there. With Jeff, nothing is an accident.
"Not at all," I lied. In order to retrieve the marker, I had to get on my knees and lean over Jeff's large black lace shoes. I returned the marker to the cup and straightened my skirt. "Now, Jeff, back to what we were ..."
"I prefer them point down, Donna."
"What?"
"The pens and pencils in the cup. They should be point down. I see three that are point up."
I rearranged the contents of his pencil cup, and stood before him. I dared not talk. After an awkward silence, Jeff stated, "Donna, you are certainly more cooperative today than you were yesterday. Remind me, honey. What did you tell me yesterday?"
"We talked about many things. I suggested that you preauthorize the electrical work, ensuring that all invoices reference a purchase order number."
