I take that as permission to keep speaking. “It’s less than a month to Christmas and… I was thinking.” I hesitate. “I was thinking it’d be good to have a Christmas tree up, have Christmas decorations around the office and… We should definitely organize a Secret Santa. And no way can wenothave an office holiday party, and?—”
“No.” He turns to his computer and begins to read something on the screen.
“No?” I blink
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
Wow. It’s as if I asked him to wear matching Christmas pajamas with Tinyandpose for a company holiday card.
I’m not the type to give up easily.
“This initiative is as important as a potential billion-dollar project. Maybe more so, because it shows employees that they matter.”
He raises his gaze from his phone, and a thinking expression crosses his features.
Oh good. Maybe I’m getting through?
Then he shakes his head.
Ugh. That was a show. A way to pretend he was considering my suggestion, to have the pleasure of vetoing it. His next words confirm it.
“Not happening. This is an office, Ms. Monroe, not Santa’s grotto.”
“More like the Grinch’s panic room,” I mumble.
I don’t think I expected him to hear it. Or maybe I did.
For his head snaps back. “Excuse me?”
That got his attention, eh? I allow myself a small smirk.
“I mean… It’s Christmas. The one time that people get taken in by the spirit of joy and giving.”
He glowers at me.
Apparently, it passed him by.
“It will help with employee morale and retention if there's more of a Christmas spirit evident?—”
His brows grow thunderous.
“—in the office building.” I complete my statement without losing courage.
“It’s a distraction.” A muscle jumps at his jawline. It’s as if the very mention of the season of sharing is pulling every possible ounce of joy out of his body.
“What do you have against Christmas, anyway?”
“Nothing.”
His shoulders are so tight, they seem to be pulled up to his ears.
“Absolutely nothing.” He narrows his gaze. “I don’t care for people being nauseatingly happy, or spending all their time trying to figure out which gifts to buy, or playing that silly countdown calendar?—”
“It’s called the Christmas Advent calendar.”
He snorts. “What-fucking-ever. My point is, it’s a waste of time. I need my employees focused. Not getting all distracted, too busy planning their Christmas lunch.”
Hmm. That didn’t go as planned. But I’m not giving up yet. I paste a bright smile on my face. “It might be worth considering a half day for everyone on Christmas Eve. That will give the employees a chance to finish their last-minute Christmas shopping. I bet that’ll buy management a stocking full of goodwill.”
