All week he’s made snide comments about the state of my desk and how my “mess” is encroaching on his character-less space. He started small, passive-aggressively pushing back any papers that slid over onto his desk, but on the third or fourth time, he began clearing his throat pointedly as he did so. I decided not to acknowledge him at all. If anything, I might have ensured that a couple of things made it over to his side.
A few days later, I arrived to discover that three piles of books had been neatly stacked along the line between our desks, creating a makeshift divider.
“Hope this doesn’t bother you,” he said breezily as he marked up a layout and I sat in my chair. “I appreciate it gives you less space tospread out.”
“I’m very happy with this arrangement,” I replied, before noticing that he had cunningly snaffled my multicolored biro before erecting his book fortress. “Although, that pen you’re using is on the wrong side of the barrier.”
He had the audacity to look confused. “Excuse me?”
“That’smypen. And if you’re so intent on making sure there’s no cross-contamination of our things, then please give it back.”
“This is not your pen,” he said, twirling it round in his fingers.
“I think you’ll find it is.”
“Harper,” he said wearily, “I got this from the stationery cupboard.”
“They don’t stock those kind of pens in the stationery cupboard. You plucked it from my desk and hoped I wouldn’t notice.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to find anything on your desk, even if I’d wanted to!”
“Uh, Harper?” Mimi squeaked from across the way, holding up a biro. “I have a spare pen if you need one.”
“I don’t need one, thanks Mimi, I already have one. Ryan is using it.”
“Maybe if you tidied up, you’d find the pen you’re referring to buried underneath all the stuff strewn across your desk,” he said haughtily.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that you’re so bothered by a few bits of paper on someone else’s desk?” I remarked, crossing my arms. “I’m not bothered by anyone else’s desk. Mimi isn’t bothered by anyone else’s desk—”
“Don’t bring me into this,” Mimi muttered.
“Maybe there’s an underlying issue here that you need to address, Ryan,” I continued brazenly. “I think your obsession with the state of my desk has something to do with feeling out of control in other areas of your life.”
He narrowed his eyes at me before standing up and holding out the pen.
“Here,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Just take it.”
“Thank you,” I said crisply as he placed it in my hand and marched away toward the stationery cupboard. “If you want to borrow anything, Ryan, next time just ask. We’re very pleasant this side of the book fort.”
It was a deeply satisfying conclusion to the discussion.
When I later found my multicolored retractable biro foldedinto an old issue of the magazine lying next to my computer, while simultaneously holding the one I’d demanded back from Ryan, I quickly closed the magazine, determined to get rid of the evidence when no one was looking.
Listen, I get that if you’re an organized neat freak, I’m not going to be your number one desk buddy. But apart from that, I am an excellent colleague. I’m cheerful and enthusiastic in the office, and supportive and thoughtful toward other people’s work.
Ryan, on the other hand, may be neat and occasionally bring in baked goods, but he brings down the mood with his aloof, unapproachable demeanor. He also seems to go out of his way to piss me off.
First, he gave Gabby, the editorial assistant, some transcriptions to do for him, and when she mentioned that she was doing one for me, I overheard him saying that his was more important. I jumped to my feet and called out across the office, “Excuse me, but why are your transcriptions more important than mine? You’re not being dismissive of celebrity pieces, are you, Ryan?”
“No, of course not, Harper,” he replied with a fixed smile, blushing furiously as the rest of the office jerked their heads up to pay attention. Poor Gabby looked panicked. “I was merely suggesting to Gabby that she prioritize my task as my deadline is tomorrow and I know that the interview she’s transcribing for you isn’t due until the end of next week.”
“Actually, I’m planning on writing up that interview this afternoon because the art desk needs to start working on the layout tomorrow,” I informed him, not missing the opportunity to add bitterly, “andthe reasonart wants to get started on it is because it’s going to be a difficult one to fit in, now that it’s gone from a three-pager to a double spread, thanks to your insistence that your piece celebrating con artists needs more pages.”
“It’s not a piececelebratingcon artists. It’s a psychological exploration of why we seem to have an obsession with watching TVseries and films about them,” he said impatiently. “Which I already explained to you this morning. And while the art desk may need to start working on your piece soon, they need to mock up my article first to meet the deadline, so I think it’s more important that my transcriptions are done as soon as possible. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Before I could answer, he continued: “Or is there an underlying issue that you need to address here, Harper? Maybe your need to go first here has something to do withfeeling out of control in other areas of your life.”
Howdarehe use my own excellent words against me?!
