Interaction at the main office Aug. 1, 2012

  

Pity or manipulation?

We come back to the main office, and I don’t know what to expect. Will it be open hostility? Or will I cease to exist?

I knew I had to keep my head down to avoid her stare and not look at her if I could help it since she claimed I stared at her at the office. So, I had to deliberately look elsewhere.

I hunker down at my desk beneath the stairs – feeling more than a little like Harry Potter – to wait out the inevitable staff meeting where we have to deal with each other across the table.

I collect my notes, bring it up to the conference room, put it on the table, and then retreat back to my desk.

She passes me as she makes her way down the stairs and outside for a smoke. I stare straight at the computer screen, barely aware of her passing since she is only a blur in my bad eye.

She pauses just long enough, as she has done before, perhaps daring me to look up, perhaps testing my resolve to remain oblivious to her.

A short time later we get the call for the meeting. I go up, settle in a chair as the others come in. She comes in. I keep my gaze diverted, even when I have to look in that direction at one of the other staff members at the table.

I mostly stare down at my pad, jotting notes I have no need of, or looking over at our boss at the head of the table when she speaks.

Suddenly, it is her turn to speak. I still do not look at her, the ultimate test of my resolve, and then, she is speaking to me, asking a question she does not need to ask, drawing my attention in her direction despite my will not to, an unavoidable moment which passes and then the meeting ends and I hurry back to my Harry Potter place under the stairs, only to have her come up to me, asking me for a phone number she knows I have, and then she moves on, going up the stairs and then down again later and I continue to ignore her. Finally, later, I am at the copy machine, and she rushes past me, not looking at me but at her cell phone, clucking her tongue with a sense of efficiency.

I wait until she’s gone before I make my way back down to my desk, trying to sort it all out, thinking maybe we’re back to that point of professional interactions, or perhaps this was a fluke and the next time she will be hostile.

Who can tell?


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