“Paul, I didn’t know you were married.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Yes, so?” I said, focusing on the presentation scattered on the conference room table.
“Kids, too?” she asked. She blinked her big eyes at me and shook her head.
Of course she was surprised. I’d never met with her in my office, where the photos of my perfect family are displayed. And recently, I’d gotten into the habit of forgetting to wear my wedding ring. I’d been keeping her busy on the essential oil pitch, so busy she hadn’t had a chance to bond with anyone else at the agency, hadn’t had an opportunity to get the real scoop on me. But so what? So she didn’t know about my family, but they didn’t have anything to do with us, with Caroline and me.
We hadn’t even made out yet, I hadn’t kissed her full lips. I had been just about to make my first move. Such a missed opportunity. She didn’t seem to be as sad about this development as I was. She seemed mad, come to think of it. Ah, the folly of youth. I knew she’d come around, welcome me into her life once she got over the little shock of my wife, and kids. Of course she would. She could feel the electricity between us.
Back in the Little Shop of Horrors I said, “There are two sides to every story, Rebecca.” I sat up straight in my chair and leaned a little forward, full of power and anger at being wrongfully accused of something by this woman. She was a rank below me, Rebecca was, and should call me Mr. Strom. Caroline was several rungs below me—I thought of that and an image of Caroline’s young, beautiful body, naked and below me, sent shivers down my spine. I composed myself and added, “Caroline is a young, impressionable junior account executive, barely out of college, and fully delusional.”
Rebecca did that annoying, snarky head tilt again and said, “So you’re denying the harassment?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you know what harassment is, Mr. Strom?” Rebecca asked.
“Of course I do. That’s why I can say with authority that I’ve done nothing of the kind. There is nobody who loves and cherishes women more than me, Rebecca. I’ve promoted women all of my career. I prefer working with women over men. That is the opposite of harassment,” I said. I was growing tired of this meeting. I wanted her to hand me the file, and then I wanted to go to Mr. Thompson and have her fired.
“You call her cell phone five times a day, both during work hours and in the evenings. You text her sometimes fifteen times per day. You are angry she will not go out with you, Mr. Strom. You are angry that someone has told you no, aren’t you?”
“Of course not. I’m calling her for work-related issues. She is assigned to many of my accounts,” I said.
“You are clever, Mr. Strom. No voice-mail messages except to call you, no threatening texts. Just to contact you. Why is it so urgent that she call or text you, all the time? What work-related topic, Mr. Strom, could possibly require that type of constant communication on weekends even?”
“We are a busy agency, Rebecca. Surely you know that clients don’t care if it’s after hours or on the weekend, not if they need things,” I said. Everyone has needs, I thought. I wondered what Rebecca needed. Unfortunately, she was not my type. We both knew that.
Rebecca had put her glasses back on and opened the file again. She appeared to be reading some sort of printout, a list of some kind. “This is Caroline Fisher’s personal cell phone record from last month. She has not turned over any other communications from you to me, and won’t if you cease.” I wonder what I was forgetting about, what else Caroline might have from me. I swallowed. Rebecca stared at me and waited for an answer.
“Sure, fine. I’ll immediately assign Andy Pool to my accounts and replace Caroline Fisher. He’s a great kid, much better at his job than Ms. Fisher, actually. Maybe she will enjoy working on the technical manuals? Those high-tech clients just churn through our young people. You should place her there,” I said. “My accounts will be fine. They’ll love working with Andy.”
“Great. So glad we understand each other,” Rebecca said. “This is your one and only warning, Mr. Strom. As you know, we have a zero tolerance policy in regards to gender discrimination and sexual harassment. You are a director of this company and you should be setting the appropriate example. You have not. Unfortunately, without more proof or evidence from Ms. Fisher, I cannot fire you today.”
Rebecca stood and placed both hands on top of my file. She glared at me through her ridiculous glasses. And said, “But I assure you, I know the proof is there. If you go near her, threaten her, call her, or otherwise just cause her to have a bad day at the office because of your actions, your career is over here. Understand?”
I realized that I had never been threatened by a woman before this moment. I had a new feeling inside and I didn’t have a name for it. Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic. There were too many potted plants crowding the back wall of her office and the smell was disgusting, like a moldy jungle. The plants seemed to be droopy, either from lack of sunlight, overwatering or pure boredom. Otherwise, her office was unadorned. The walls were white, the shelves barren, except for a few books about HR policies and procedures. Boring manuals for boring rule-following people like her. Everything about Rebecca More was drooping, musty and irritating. I was anxious to be done with her. And she was waiting for my answer.
“Understood, Rebecca,” I said, standing and leaning ever so slightly toward her over her desk. She startled and stepped back, bumping into her chair, which knocked into a potted tree. A leaf poked through her hair and that made me happy. I had said her name as if it were toxic, a poison making my tongue thick by its mere presence in my mouth. And then I turned and walked out of her office, never expecting to be summoned there once more only three short months later.
I told myself there would be no more empowering Caroline Fisher. A shame, really, after all I’d done for her. After all we’d worked on together. I also reminded myself that there would be other young women drawn to the agency, that I had a great wife, a brilliant life and two sons who everyone said were the most handsome boys they’ve ever seen. And of course, there would always be someone new on the side, someone like Gretchen, a young woman who would simply cross my path at the right time. Although I hadn’t met her yet, I knew she was out there. There were always Gretchens. I mean, look at me. Women love me, almost all women. But Caroline? She never even put out—such a tease. Who needed Caroline Fisher?