She pinches the bridge of her nose, and I notice the small wrinkle that appears between her eyebrows when she does this. I have seen this wrinkle many times today already.
I want to smooth it away with my thumb.
This is not a professional thought.
I am having many unprofessional thoughts about the Little Manager.
"Let's just get through today," she sighs. "Tomorrow we'll work on report writing."
"As you command."
Her eyes narrow. "I'm not commanding. I'm suggesting. There's a difference."
"You are definitely commanding."
"I'm being reasonable."
"You are being very small and very bossy, and it is extremely—" I stop myself before I finish that sentence, because the word that wants to come out is not appropriate for the workplace. The word that wants to come out is arousing, and I have beentold multiple times today that this kind of honesty makes HR nervous.
"Extremely what?" she challenges, chin lifting, eyes daring me to finish.
Brave little thing.
"Effective," I finish instead. Safe. Boring. Professional.
But my voice comes out rougher than intended, and I see the way her pupils dilate slightly, the way her breath catches just a fraction before she controls it.
She feels it too.
This pull.
This recognition.
She just hides it better.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of incomprehensible corporate rituals. Orla shows me how to log into something called "the portal." She explains "expense reports." She tries to teach me about "appropriate email etiquette."
I break another keyboard.
She brings me a backup keyboard.
I try to be gentler. The keys still crack under my fingers like tiny bones.
By the time the sun begins to set, painting the office in orange light that almost makes it look less depressing, I have learned three important things:
One, she is patient in a way that suggests she has had to be patient before, probably with many incompetent humans.
Two, she smells like lavender and anxiety and something sweet I cannot identify.
Three, I am in serious trouble.
Because somewhere between the broken keyboards and the Excel tutorials and the way she says my name with exasperatedprecision, I have decided that making Orla Peace relax is now my primary mission.
Not conflict resolution.
Not corporate integration.
Her.
