The Executive Deception

CHAPTER THREE

My thoughts started to wander as I stood adjacent to James Clint's seat. The meeting lasted much longer than I had expected; and with me just idly standing there, it was only natural that several thoughts came to mind.

I scanned the meeting room - the air smelled like lavender, but with a touch of wood and polish, which they had attempted to eradicate, but to no avail; resulting in a fusion of the duo. A large oval annulus-shaped table was the most prominent feature in the room. Made from maple wood, its grains stretched beautifully across the circumference like it had been carefully and articulately drawn - like an art piece, random and abstract, mysteriously captivating in its own sense. As anyone would, I started to wonder how they had managed to get a table of such size through the door, which was comparatively smaller. "There aren’t any visible cues to show that it could have been dismantled, so how?", I wondered within myself.

Around the table sat several unfamiliar faces - about thirty of them in all. I had no idea as to what the meeting was about, but from all that had been discussed up until that moment, I could tell it had something to do with the managerial affairs of Johas Inc. as a whole. By 'as a whole', I mean all the establishments in its name. James' displeasure with how things were going was quite obvious, as he made no effort to hide it.

"It is a shame that you could not carry out this simple task given to you! How hard could it be to come up with a marketing strategy for a product? Or do I have to f*cking do everything myself?!" He slammed his hand on the table - his subordinates jerked, startled.

"Somebody should talk to me, or have you all gone dumb?" he yelled.

" We... we are very sorry", one of them finally managed to speak. A male, apparently in his early thirties. His audacity amazed me. I wouldn't utter a word if I was on the receiving end of such hostility.

"Be sorry for yourselves. At this point, I don't see the essence in paying the lot of you, if all you have to offer is your incompetence." He interlocked his fingers and leaned back into his exclusively-made black leather chair, leaning his elbows on the arm-rest. He spun the chair a few degrees to the left and right, and then continued with a calm voice. "Who is the head of the marketing department?"

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

"I am", a feminine voice suddenly answered, putting up her hand. She was clearly shaken - her eyes were fixed on the table, and her voice shook like she was going to break down in tears at any moment.

"You're fired", there was a brief pause before he continued, "and the rest of you will not be receiving your pay until the task assigned has been completed. Before the day runs out, I'll appoint someone to occupy the position of the H.O.D. in her absence." He got up and made for the exit, everyone else raising to their feet- an act of respect that I felt was completely unnecessary; at least not for someone who was so mean and hostile to his staff.

"This definitely must be what fuels his ego", I thought to myself.

That was it. He fired her just like that, without thinking twice - despite the fact that she had worked over there for a long time; her service of five years laid to waste in a split of a second. I felt bad for her, watching her face all sunken and her eyes filled with tears begging to be let out. Some of her colleagues gave her a pat on the shoulder, while she exchanged hugs with the others - those she was well acquainted with.

"You are supposed to follow him back to his office", a good Samaritan whispered in my ear, startling me. I immediately came back to my senses.

"Thank you", I said, scampering towards the exit, the sound of my heels striking the tiled floor echoing behind me.

* * *

My journey to James' office was rather long and tiring. Perhaps his earlier demonstration had sparked something in me- a feeling of unease, anxiety. I couldn't quite place it, but it was there; the gut feeling that my decision to work there was bound to be regretted. "It's all good. Everything is going to be fine" I said to myself, looking for the easiest possible means of escape from my insecurity. I took a deep breath, and proceeded to knock on the door.

“Finally, you got your brains working”, James said, clapping his hands amusingly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t really know how things work around here”. I kept my eyes looking downwards at the floor the whole time.

“You know, the only reason you are able to stand in my presence today is because someone threw in a good report about you.” He sucked on his teeth irritably before continuing. “You better be as helpful as they say, else you’re getting tossed out just as easily as you came in.”

I just stood there. I had initially intended to remain mute, and leave all the talking to him- but hey, it’s my job we’re talking about here, and I’m not trying to lose it; not on my first encounter. I lifted my head once again. “I’ll make sure to do my best. You won’t be disappointed.”

“You better do. Now go home. You start officially tomorrow.” He picked up one of the several documents on his desk, and started reading through it- indicating that the conversation was over.

“Okay. Have a good day.” I turned around immediately, walking hurriedly towards the door. My heels kept striking the floor, drawing unnecessary attention towards me. At that point, I started to wonder what had come over me; of all days, I chose the day of my interview to wear high heels, to an office. Who does that? Not to mention the fact that my outfit was already clearly inappropriate for a job interview! Anyway, the deed had already been done, so I had to manage the due consequences.

“Hey, hey” I stopped, and clenched my fists, knowing that the following remark was going to have something to do with my shoe. “Don’t you wear that to work ever again. Do we look like we’re at a fashion exhibition?” He paused, expecting me to give feedback of some sort.

I shook my head, like a naughty child who had been caught in the act of stealing, and asked whether or not there was any likelihood of him/her relapsing.

He continued, his face turning red. “This is an office for crying out loud!!... You know something? Just get the hell out before I lose it.” It was clear that he was trying really hard to suppress his anger, that it could burst out at any moment.

How I managed to leave his office that day remains a mystery - even till today. I just happened to appear on the other side of the door, thanking my stars, and so desperate to leave the premises.