Job description, role (un)clarity

[Continuation of Story Submitted to Contest #281 "Becoming"]

I wasn't expecting that.

My boss's smile was getting creepier and creepier, and I was losing my patience. Maybe it was because I had finally woken up to all the news of blood, job change, and world domination—this last one had not been mentioned, but the part about blood drainage and corporate vampirism made me think about it.

"I'm sorry, I'm what?" I asked. The cut on my arm was completely healed, and I still held the ceramic piece I'd used to prove my point.

"Part of the management team," he replied, in such a calm tone that made me think about our last End Year Review, one year before, where he showed so little emotion about my request to be promoted that it gave me a headache for two full days like I had absorbed all the nerves he should be feeling. Was that happening again? Was he controlling the way I thought and felt?

"That's nonsense," he said again without moving his lips.

Shit, I thought, I forgot. I had just known about it and still had forgotten he could read my mind.

"You'll get used to it; you're transitioning. In a few years, I will not be able to do it unless you allow me."

"It's not very polite to enter someone else's mind without permission."

"You do it every day at work," he said, and I laughed nervously, mainly because I had no idea what he was saying or how to reply.

"What do you mean? I don't read anyone's minds... or control how they feel."

"Not everyone can do it, the control part. But I know you'll deal with that very well. That's one of the reasons why we chose you."

"I don't know what you are speaking about."

"Remember when you told me last year you thrive when things are difficult and challenging and that you can make people work?"

"I was speaking about my empathy and empowerment skills."

"That's not how we see it."

"We?"

"The management team."

"How many are you?"

"That's not important."

I tried to count all the faces in my mind: the ones in his job grade and those above him, but then I faced the sad reality: I couldn't count them because I had never bothered too much about getting to know them.

"You'll meet them in a timely manner," he said. From now on, you should dedicate a little bit more of your time to them as a courtesy."

"This is a job in technology, I am not a diplomat."

"Still, you should get better in that area. People like to feel important, which can help you progress in your career."

"People should get busy. Then, they would not care so much about nonsense. And about my career, I'm sorry, but I need a little more detail on what I have to sign for."

He laughed and I felt each hair on my body as if they had become nails. I almost screamed, but I contained myself. You can do it, I thought. Be calm, I told myself, feeling my nails against the palm of one hand and the broken ceramic on the other.

"I warn you," he replied, " You are one of us, but still a junior. Many things could happen if you rub the wrong ones. I trusted you with this new role, and your contempt could put both of us at risk."

"Who are the wrong ones?" I replied too fast and realized he did not fancy it much when I saw him shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," I'm not myself today.

"You're too yourself," he replied.

"I will mind my words..."

"And gestures."

"Sure, yes... and thoughts as well."

I wasn't in a good position. I knew it. If I spoke wrong, I would be in trouble. If I thought what I shouldn't, I would be playing with fire. Who could listen to my ideas? Could I listen to theirs? Still, I had wanted to be a manager for too much time to stop now, so I made the only question that made sense at that time. I left the broken ceramic on the kitchen bench and took a deep breath.

"Can you please tell me what my role responsibilities are? What am I supposed to do?"

I felt he had been waiting for my question.

"You will be busy. You will have 30 people reporting to you. You know the drill: distribute resources across projects, select talents, decide on tasks and priorities, manage disputes, and keep everyone as happy as possible. And above all, avoid escalation to the rest of us."

"Of course, the usual," I said, thinking it did not seem so different from the job I'd been doing for the last couple of years. But then came the twist.

"And you'll be in charge of recruiting the next one."

"What do you mean with the next one?" Despite he had told me --without much detail-- that there had been some blood transactions linked to my promotion and his continuous denial of any connection to Dracula's group of friends, I did not feel comfortable with all that. Signing to drain anyone's anything was killing me inside.

"Someone has to take over the position you're leaving. It only makes sense you choose someone from your current team. You know them, they trust you... it will be easy."

"I don't know what I am supposed to do, and I don't know if I have it on me... to kill for it."

"You'll kill no one. There's no need to be dramatic."

"Will I have to drain blood?"

"Not this time."

That's a relief, I thought.

"So, it will be a regular recruitment process?"

"Something like that. But you'll need to practice your new skills."

"New skills?"

"The mind reading," he said.

"Sure," I said. That was a plus. Interesting.

"The power of persuasion," he continued, and I nodded.

"And the soul-crushing techniques."

"The what?"

"People work better that way."

"Crushing their souls... literally?"

"They have to be devoted to you."

"C'mon, isn't that a little too much? After all, I was never..."

He smiled again, and fear flooded my body. I started to sweat, and despite thinking about running, I couldn't move. I replayed in my head all the meetings we had had for years, remembering how they had made me feel. The names of my team members began to move through my mind like fruits appearing and disappearing in a slot machine until a name appeared and started to blink.

"I see you have your choice," he said.

"Wait," I replied. "Was that the reason for the headache last year? Was that it?"

"It depends. Everyone reacts in different ways."

"But I will not hurt her, right?"

"That will depend on her, on how much she resists."

"Did I?"

"That does not matter now, right?"

I wan’t expecting that, but right then, I knew what I had to do. And I did not like it a bit.