A Professional Veneer

I took my time packing up at the end of today’s meeting. Wanted a chance to talk to Fiona alone. She’s usually the last one left in the room, clearing up the cups and gathering the confidential waste.

It’s her disrespectful attitude you see. Always the same. Like today. I get there early and as usual she has already set up the coffees and is tapping away at her laptop.  I ask her why the agenda was cut short and she says it’s nothing to do with her and she only types it up and sends it round. Tells me to ask Janet and turns those earnest green eyes straight back to her laptop.

I never get any conversation out of her. Now I'm not particularly conscious of status, but as commercial director, I deserve more respect. So after everyone has left the meeting I give her another chance to be friendly. I suggest we go over the draft agenda together for next week, but she fobs me off, saying the information isn’t ready and she’ll email it to me. She’s already walking out of the door at this point. Most unsatisfactory.

That's why I'm here in a café when I should be on my way to the car park. Awful noisy place with the screeching expresso maker and constant babble in the background, but this window table is opposite the office. My idea is to watch for when Fiona comes out. Then I'll just bump into her. It’s quite clever if you think about it. I can have a quiet word on our way to the car park. She'll be more relaxed outside the work environment and listen to what I need to tell her. That way, I won't have to speak to Janet about her manner. Yes, speak to her manager or worse. There’s a restructure coming up and there may be staff cuts. But that’s my ace card. I won’t play that at the moment.

You won’t believe where I am now. Sitting on a bench in a graveyard. Through the trees is a pub garden and Fiona and the team are chatting and laughing round one of the tables. You’re wondering what happened. Well I finally caught up with her in the street after a long wait and she said she had worked late to catch up and was on her way to meet the team in the pub. I mentioned that it was good for colleagues to get together away from the work environment. I asked her what pub it was, but she said she had to go and rushed off without answering. She could have easily invited me along. It would have been beneficial for my working relationship with the team. Another example of her unhelpful and disrespectful attitude. So I had to follow her and now I’m stuck on this hard wooden bench waiting for her to walk back to the car park so we can finally have our chat.

Despite the traffic I can just about make out their conversation. Fiona’s telling Janet some tedious thing about being very busy with the other administrator off and having to log in and work at the weekend. Hang on, now she’s talking about me. She’s telling Janet she doesn’t think I like her because I ask questions I know she can’t answer. Apparently, I’m trying to catch her out. And that she thinks I’m staring disapprovingly at her while she’s trying to get work done.

What rubbish. That’s’ just an excuse for her refusal to have a friendly conversation. Did I mention I’m the Commercial Director? It's imperative I speak to her now.

Janet’s telling Fiona she can’t expect senior managers to know what everyone’s exact role. Janet’s also just said I look at everyone with a bit of scrutiny. She thinks I just want to see who is motivated and who isn’t because I don’t want people going off to join the opposition. Well Janet will be fine in the restructure. I favour people who talk sense.         

The conversation is getting louder with each round. She’s chatting and laughing a lot with Roger. They shared a cigarette even though I know she doesn’t smoke. Disgusting habit. I’ll need to speak to her about that too. I’ve never liked Roger. Might get him transferred out of town or find him surplus to requirements in the restructure. Maybe the drinking isn’t such a bad thing though. Fiona will be more relaxed and ready to talk to me when I do manage to get her on her own.

Now Fiona’s talking on the phone. She keeps repeating something about letting the dog out. I know her mother is elderly and unwell as I’ve seen it on her social media. Well alright yes I had a look at her profile. I thought a bit of knowledge might help get a conversation started.

She’s telling people she has to go as she’s already left her mother on her own too long after being at work all day. This could be my break. She’ll be walking back to the car park and I can bump into her. This time she’s going to listen. Roger is offering to walk her back. The interfering idiot. That transfer is looking more likely. Fiona’s declining. He’s got half a pint left and she’s fine. I’ve been so intent on the conversation, I’ve only just noticed the sky has gone dark there are a few spots of rain.

Well that was a complete waste of time. Fiona’s practically ran to the car park getting soaked with the downpour. I saw the way the water was streaming off her long hair. Why didn't she just shelter in one of the doorways. Then I would have caught her up and she could have come under my umbrella.

When I got to the car park there was no sign of her. Now I’m back in the car stuck in a queue. A heavy rainstorm and everyone forgets how to drive. I should have been home long ago. Fiona doesn’t know how much trouble she’s caused.  And all I’m trying to do is put her right so I don’t have to speak to Janet about her.

For goodness sake these idiots should get out of the way. The bus stop mob is spilling into the road. There are so many people. Wait. That looks like Fiona in the rabble. What’s she doing there.

I stop and open the door in the pouring rain telling her to get in. She hesitates, letting her surprise show and asks me what I’m doing here. For goodness sake why does she have to question everything and make a fuss. I try not to let my frustration show. I’m doing this for her.

I tell her to get in quickly to my nice dry car and I’ll drop her home. She’s still hesitating. I point out the indicator says the next bus isn’t for 30 minutes. I can feel my irritation deepening but I keep my face passive. At last she struggles in with her two bags and pulls the door shut.  

She thanks me and tells me she does actually need to get home urgently. Her elderly mother is getting very anxious and needs her medication. She’s been trying to calm her mother down over the phone but the battery is running low.

I ask her about her car but she tells me she’s leaving the car there until tomorrow. She just got the shopping out of the boot and headed for the bus stop because she’d had more to drink than she realised.

I tell her I’m glad she’s here and mention I want to have a little chat. But she interrupts me She’s noticed this isn’t the way home. I tell her there’s a diversion due to a flood but really I thought I’d drive the long way round to give us more time to talk. Fiona asks me what I wanted to talk about. She gives a nervous cough. The cough reminds me and to mention the smoking. She says she doesn’t smoke. I point out she was smoking this evening and Roger was encouraging her.

I realise I’ve given something away. I can feel the atmosphere in the car tense. I try to explain I happened to be passing the pub but it doesn’t work. The stupid girl starts asking me to let her out. I calmly tell her I can't let her out on her own in a country lane in the middle of a violent storm. I try to explain I’m trying to help her and she needs to cooperate. I mention the staff cuts but it doesn’t seem to register.

She reaches into her handbag and pulls out her mobile phone. That’s ridiculous. I lean over and try to take it from her. We need to have our conversation in peace. She jerks the phone away.

With sudden horror I realise I’ve driven past a red traffic light. My mind seems to freeze as I see a huge fuel carrying lorry coming from the left. I jerk to life and brake but it’s too hard. The car lurches forward on it’s own. “You stupid stupid girl” I shout. Look what you’ve made me do.

I’m aware of tyres screeching on the wet road as the huge articulated lorry looms towards us. I can’t get my brain or body to react. I feel paralysed I don’t see a way out of this. Fiona has opened the passenger door.  I yell at her but she’s gone. Her last selfish act.