“I don’t ask for much. Just respect and time off without being bothered or dealing with work-induced hemorrhoids! Recognition for all that I do would be nice, but maybe that’s impossible, huh?” My heel connects with his butt. He’s got a really long back, but I find the crease. The coward crawls away. “Seventeen years, three months, and eight days!”
Smack.
The keyboard connects with a fresh patch of hair plugs.
“Mmf.”
“Don’t cry now! We’re having fun!”
Smack.
I kick him in the back and flip him over. The color drains from his face at my grip on his silver tie, crushing his windpipe. His body stiffens under my thighs as I use them to squeeze him in place.
Punk-ass Parker whimpers at my grin. “This is what happens when you push good people to the edge.” I fist his tie and whisper, “We learn to fly.”
I wanted to have a civil conversation. Get aligned on my promotion and go about my day drama-free. Now, I’m wearing my boss’s blood while staring at the possibility of life in a state-issued jumpsuit.
It shouldn’t surprise me how meaningless I am to this company, but it still stings. I never miss an opportunity to celebrate the staff. There’s a mindfulness corner in my office for quiet time and snacks—with gluten-free options!
Fun lunches.
Consultants to help with a better work-life balance.
Quarterly off-campus events.
Would it hurt to say,Thank you, Bianca. I appreciate it, for once?
“Bianca,” Mr. Hamilton slurs through a discolored jaw.
Smack.
“Shut up! Shut. Up!” I roar, inches from his battered face. “I’m a good person and damn good at my job! You don’t deserve my magic. None of you do!”
Smack.
“Bianca.”
“Watch your tone, Bianca,” I mock. “You don’t want to come off too aggressive.”
Smack.
“Smile more. You’re too pretty to frown.”
Smack.
“Why do you bring up race? You’re good enough to work here.”
Smack.
“The only Black woman in management.”
Smack.
Smack.
I tried to be the change I wanted to see. What did I get in return? Zero gratitude and hemorrhoids!
“I hate you! I hate you all!”
