I’m practically vibrating with excitement. My life’s truly turning around, between Jake, my relationship with my mother getting better, and now this.
“I’ve decided,” Mr. Sinclair continues, “that the best person to take over after I’m gone in October will be Ralf Lowell. He’s had a lot of great initiatives lately, and he’s such a fun guy to be around.”
My boss keeps talking, but I can’t hear any of it. Ralf Lowell?Ralf?!Lazy ass, rapey jokes Ralf is getting the job? Over me? How? In what world is that an informed decision?
“Excuse me, butRalf?” I ask, so baffled I barely realize I’m interrupting his rambling.
“Yes, Mr. Lowell will step into my shoes once I’m gone. Like I was saying, he’s—”
“I’ve been here longer than he has,” I remind him. “I have better diplomas than him. I work harderandbetter.”
“Genevieve, you are an exemplary employee—no one’s denying that. But Ralf is better suited to take over.”
“Why? I’m more qualified for the job in every single aspect. Unless the position requires male genitalia, in which case, I suppose I’m lacking indeed.”
“Please, let’s not make this a gender thing, Genevieve. We both know why I’m choosing him over you.”
I stare at him, puzzled and offended. “I have no idea, no.”
“Oh, please. There’s no denying that you have been scattered lately.”
“Scattered?”
“You skip Friday drinks. You’re unfocused during major meetings. You come in late, leave the office early… You also filed an HR complaint regarding several of your colleagues and subordinates. And when we had a fundamentally important file to compile with a strict deadline, you took a day off to celebrate your birthday.”
“The file was done in time. I made sure of that.”
“Ralf’s team was the one working hard on Friday to get it done, Genevieve. He told me how much of an inconvenience it was that you would dump it all on his team in favor of your birthday.”
“No, that isn’t what happened. My team worked hard to get it done by Thursday, and I did so much overtime I nearly passed out from exhaustion. Lowell’s team only had the proofreading and formatting to handle.”
“And yet, they were the ones working late on that Friday evening. I’m sorry, dear, but you don’t deserve the job. You might have, two or three months ago, but I cannot in good conscience give you the position. Ralf will take over, and who knows? Maybe you’ll get his position when he moves another step up.”
Oh God.
The reality of what it means slowly sinks in. Ralf will become my boss in October. If I thought working under Sinclair was bad, what will it be like with Ralf? The man has been scamming his way up since he started—two years after me. And now he’s taking over the job I was owed? How much harder will I have to work to make up for Ralf’s incompetence?
I can barely breathe at the thought of it, my lungs uncooperative, and my intakes shallow. This is a nightmare. Ralf fucking Lowell is my future boss.
“I understand that you might be going through some things, Genevieve,” Mr. Sinclair kindly says. “Rumors have been circulating that you’ve separated from your boyfriend. Edward from accounting, was it? If you want my advice, get your act together and focus on what’s important. Like I said, you’re an exemplary worker, but you’ve let yourself go. I’ve seen the kind of relationship you’ve entertained lately.”
“I know my personal life has been complicated, but even with all that, I still work harder and better than Ralf. It’s not fair to use my current situation to judge my performance.”
“Ralf offers consistency, which is something I value. I wish I could have given you the position, but I cannot trust that you will not spiral any lower than you already have. This department cannot be in the hands of someone unstable.”
I can barely think past the indignation. The utter unfairness of his decision hits hard. The promotion I’ve been working my ass off for the past five years, the logical outcome of my studies and time at NexaCorp, just slipped from my fingers. All because I met Jake and started living my life for myself rather than for work.
As if I need a reminder that this moment can get even more humiliating, the door opens behind me, and a grating voice says, “Celebratory drinks tonight?”
Furious, I twist around in the chair to glare at Ralf and the cocky expression on his stupid face. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was you, Genevieve.”
Right, so many redheads work in this department.
“I take it Mr. Sinclair broke the news to you,” he continues, looking so smug that I want to choke him with his ugly tie.
“He did. Congratulations on the position, Ralf. God knows how hard you worked for it,” I say with acerbic sarcasm.
“Better luck next time, eh? So, Victor, are we on for drinks tonight?” Of course, first-name basis now.
