The promotion

This whole mess started last year, three weeks before Christmas. I was then working in a big company where everyone moved a lot, but no one really knew what they were doing. "Chasing the future," "shaping the world," and "Bending the rules of engineering" were our mottos, which, looking back, sound borderline delusional, but back in those days, it was my way of life. I was doing something awesome, even if it was almost impossible to describe my job or challenges to anyone from the outside world. It was too complicated and abstract, and I had learned over the years that none of my friends or family members cared to ask about it anymore. My days were stressful, but I never complained. I had a vision, a mission, and a personal challenge to be the best by age thirty-five. I was laser-focused on getting what I wanted, so I spent that year chasing every opportunity to get a promotion, as I had done the previous ones. I never said no to an impossible deadline, impossible hours, or demanding managers, and that's why the night when I got the biggest surprise of my life was the continuation of a really, proper, undoubtful, horrible day at work.

It was a Friday. I had started the day early because I had an alignment call with different production and sales sites multi-sites call, and the "short alignment" turned into a three-hour nightmare with people from all around the world shouting at each other in different languages. That was common- the discussions- but did not help me reach the zen state I had planned to face my end-year- review, scheduled for the end of the day. As usual, I had been working on it for weeks, checking my lists of targets and aligning them with the achievements and feedback from colleagues I'd worked with. I had written what I thought about my job and was ready to explain in detail why I deserved to move up in the corporate food chain. I had even prepared cheat cards to help me prepare for the discussion, which I put inside my notebook and checked between meetings that day. There was no readier person than me. There was no way I did not get what I wanted. But then, my boss canceled the meeting, and I lost the little chill I still had in my system. I threw away my cards, and like a child on a bad day, I decided to ignore his message--the one he sent me five minutes before our meeting, telling me he would not be able to be on time-- and sat in front of his office, with my arms crossed and a face that could deter the biggest badest wolf. I could have shot lasers with my eyes if I wasn't so tired after working so many hours (and, of course, if I wasn't a simple mortal without any superpowers, but that's another minor detail.)

I waited for him until six thirty in the afternoon. When he finally appeared in his office, he told me I could re-schedule and to hurry up because we would be late for the restaurant. That night was the department's Christmas party; too early to celebrate the festivities, but the only option you have when the person in charge forgets to book the restaurant on time. That's what we all knew had happened, but according to our manager, "We can celebrate whenever we want," and there's not much you can tell your boss when he's the one who messes up.

As soon as he entered, he left his office, so much so that I did not have the opportunity to tell him how upset I was about his behavior. I had busted my whole body that year and had the right to my sixty minutes of discussion, and he had denied them to me. I was not happy, not happy at all, but I watched him leave, and I did not manage to get into the same elevator as he did. Even the elevators were failing me.  

I got into my car and drove to the meeting point, where I found most of my colleagues. Our boss had not arrived yet despite leaving before me, and we waited for him for half an hour outside the restaurant until someone—not me this time—decided that waiting more was not an option. It was cold and rainy, which would not be something to remember if it wasn't the last time I was annoyed by weather phenomena.

Inside, we drank until it was clear he had stood us up, so we did our best, ordering whatever we wanted and paying with the company credit card. After all, he had told us we could celebrate, so we did. After exchanging Secret Santa presents, where I got a ridiculous pair of battery-powered earrings in the shape of Christmas trees, we moved to a bar nearby, and to our surprise, that's where we found our boss, in the company of a man who looked quite shady. We started to order some drinks, and a colleague of mine thanked the boss for giving us "celebration space," which was ridiculously funny to most of the group but turned out to be not so well received by the man in the suit, who held his drink as the little guy in The Lord of the Rings did with the ring. The only thing missing was the "my precious" speech because our manager, that middle-aged man, seemed consumed, with his eyes injected with blood and the least amicable expression ever. The man by his side dressed much more casually, in jeans, a t-shirt, and a distressed leather jacket. It seemed they both had been drinking for hours, but the way they looked indicated that there was something other than alcohol in their bodies. Before my colleague could say anything else, the "casual" guy stood up and held him by the coat's lapel until I saw his feet leave the floor. It surprised me because he did not seem so strong, and while I thought about the last time I had had the opportunity to exercise, one of the women in the bar started to scream. My thoughts had so absorbed me that I had not seen that the man had sunk his teeth in my colleague's neck, and now, there was blood all over them.

Okay, that's something else, I thought, as people started to run in all directions, some leaving the bar and others being stopped by different customers. The screaming was unbearable, and everything seemed to move in slow motion despite the running, jumping, and fighting around me. But that was not the only thing. There were teeth everywhere. And blood. A tremendous and very unhealthy loss of blood. I looked at my boss, who seemed amused by the whole situation, and started to walk in my direction as if nothing was happening around us. I grabbed my purse and began to think about all the self-defense classes I had had in the past--two in total--, and I tried to find something to use in case things turned even worse than they looked. I saw no use in the lipstick, and despite my eyeshadow palette being pointy, I did not think it could do much harm either. I touched my wallet, the perfume, and some papers before I chose my weapon: my keychain with a Hello Kitty figure full of hand sanitizer.

The man, babbling something I could not understand, extended his arm in my direction. With no mercy whatsoever, I squeezed the sanitizer Kitty in his already-red eyes, which made him howl and gave me the space I needed to try to escape. Have I told you I'm not so good at sports? I always said running was not my thing unless I had a rabid animal following me, and that's precisely what happened that night. I jumped over bodies and pools of blood. I passed what seemed to be a buffet of co-workers, and when I reached the door and pushed, I crashed into something, someone, and I couldn't move anymore. Suddenly, I was up in the air with two giant hands holding me and smelling the worst breath ever. My Kitty was empty, and I grabbed one of the keys, which I used to stab the mountain-size guy in the cheek. But the outcome was not as expected because he did not bulge, say a word, or bleed.

With my feet dangling, feeling small and impotent, I said: "Man, I hadn't the best day today. Can we leave this for another time?" he didn't seem impressed by my cold blood but even more attracted. When his teeth touched my neck, the only thing I could think about was all the things I hadn't done, all the places I hadn't visited, and all the people I had not met yet, but it did not matter. The blood started to run over my coat, and I knew I was done.

When I woke up, I was hungry. I was in my bed, and when I looked around me, the floor was dirty and covered with bloody clothes. I looked below the sheets. I was naked. The light was too bright, and I closed the curtains. It was easy to see everything around me, even with no lights on, and when I looked for my glasses and put them on, it felt as if someone had stabbed my eyes. Everything was blurry, and my eyes hurt. I took them out and put some clothes on. There was a lot of noise around me, but there was no one at home and no radio or television on. Still, I could hear people talking, babies crying, dogs barking... I covered my ears with my hands and walked out of the room to the kitchen. I needed coffee. What time was it? Was it a work day? How much time had I been sleeping? I switched on the coffee machine but disconnected it immediately because I couldn't stand the noise.

"It gets better," someone said behind me. My boss.

I started to pinch myself in the arm to wake me up. It's a nightmare, I thought. I have a really soft skin, I thought after the pinch.

"It was time to give you a promotion; I am sure you knew you deserved it," he continued.

"What?" I said. I wanted to ask who and what he was, what had happened, why I felt so weird, why he seemed so relaxed, how he had entered my house, and why my skin felt so awesome, but that's not what I said. I said, "What?"

"We have a lot of work to do," he replied. "We should get you something to eat. I don't think whatever you have in the fridge will taste good now."