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prorevenge · 5 years

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Coworker tried to get me fired over breast implants, so I pulled a reverse uno card.

4 years ago now, when I was 24, my mum died of breast cancer, and as both my grandmothers had also died of it I saw a specialist for a screening. I found out I had some cells in one of my breasts that could have turned cancerous at any given moment.

I was told I had a few options:

I could have regular screenings every 3 or 4 months until it does develop into cancer (I was told the risk of the cells becoming cancerous was very high due to family history) but it could also potentially never could turn so I'd just be getting these screenings for no reason

I could get a single mastectomy on the breast with the bad cells, but they'd need to keep an eye on the other one, so I'd still need regular checkups for the other breast

I could get a bilateral mastectomy and remove all of my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for the bilateral mastectomy. It was admittedly the most drastic option but after seeing what cancer did to my mum and grandmothers I didn't want to risk it.

I was warned about scarring but told it should be fairly minor. It wasn't and I was left with 2 huge, pink, jagged scars on either side of my chest, each about an inch long and half an inch wide, and it caused me to go into a severe depression, where it got to the stage of me not even leaving my flat because I didn't want people to see me, throwing out my mirrors, and getting physically sick looking at myself.

I went to a therapist, who suggested a plastic surgeon. The therapist said they'd never normally do that but it was clearly something I was struggling with and I might never get over it, and the therapist could see why I struggle with it. Although I'll admit the therapist did send me to ask about scar reduction. The plastic surgeon suggested a cream, a laser or implants. The cream didn't work, and the laser was both expensive and risky, so I went with the implants. My natural boobs were an F cup so I went with a slightly smaller DD. Since then my mental health has improved and I feel a lot better about the way I look. My confidence has gone up, as has my self esteem. I know I shouldn't put so much into my appearance but I wasn't exaggerating about these scars. Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, just really awful to look at and I hated seeing myself, and they are now nicely hidden away and you can barely feel them.

In the present day, I'm 28 years old and working in an office. I'm doing a lot better than I was. My coworker, Jill, found out I'd had a boob job (but not about the cancer thing), when myself and my friend from years before the mastectomy were planning a holiday and she made a joke about me going on a plane with my implants, and Jill overheard. By the end of the day, the entire office knew I'd had a boob job, but not why, and half a dozen people confirmed Jill had told them.

Over the next few months Jill made many "jokes" and comments about my chest to coworkers when I was in earshot, at one point saying I had "more plastic than Barbie" and calling me "fake in two ways". I didn't hear this one myself but a friend in the office told me that Jill had at one point referred to me as a "sack of silicone".

IDK what her problem was exactly but at one point she mentioned the NHS so I assume Jill thought that I'd got my tits done for free on taxpayer money (I'd gotten the mastectomy on NHS but gone private for therapy and implants).

I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately the places I'd talked to her were places like the lift and the women's bathroom, where there weren't any cameras, and Jill just kept making comments no matter how often I asked her not to. I wouldn't say it was every single day, but I heard at least 3 comments per week for 3 months.

I hit my breaking point when me, Jill and a few other coworkers were having lunch, I referred to something as being shallow and Jill said "you'd know all about being shallow" while gesturing to my chest. I snapped.

I said "do you know why I have these? A few years ago the doctors found potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue, I was advised to get a mastectomy and was left with huge ugly scars on my chest. I went to see a therapist who sent me to a cosmetic surgeon, who advised me to get implants to hide the scars, and I did just so I could look at myself in the mirror without crying. So maybe next time you want to judge someone for having cosmetic surgery, you should ask them why they had it first". And feeling like that was a mic drop moment I picked up my food and left.

For the rest of the day I had about 1/3 of my office come up to me and offer support, and the rest tell me that Jill was just joking around and I was being a bitch. I replied that Jill was being a bitch long before I was.

I then got an email from HR saying they wanted to talk to me the following day, and when I called for clarification they mentioned a "hostile work environment" (note: this is apparently an American term and holds little weight in England but it's what was said over the phone). I knew the person who signed off the email and I'd spoken to. Her name was Debbie, and she was Jill's friend in HR so I was fairly confident on who had reported me.

I realised that if this was already being sent to HR, I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I went about collecting my information.

As Debbie had dealt with me so far, it was safe to assume she would be the person reviewing the complaint with me, and if that was true I was fucked. However, I vaguely remembered a section on complaints that was in my contract when I first signed with the company. I flicked through the contract and there was a part in complaints section that said I was contractually allowed to request a change of reviewer if I felt my allocated reviewer was biased. It was called an "impartial overseer". I photocopied the page and highlighted that part.

Then I messaged the people who had offered their support over facebook, and said basically "HR have asked to see me. Do any of you remember Jill insulting me to your face and are you willing to write and sign something saying what you heard and when?". Not everyone was willing to help as Jill is somewhat feared in the office due to her befriending HR and management but about 20 people were willing to help me.

I guessed roughly when I'd asked Jill to stop previously (the 4 asks over the last few months, some timings were easy to guess as they'd happened on my break or when I'd first arrived at work) and I wrote them all down, along with a rough time of when the lunchroom confrontation happened and a list of names of who was there for the lunchroom confrontation.

I got to work slightly early the next morning. I went round everyone who had messaged me and most of them managed to give me a printed and signed letter (some didn't manage to write one but nbd). This isn't exact words as there's 16 letters to sum up here but the gist was:

"My name is [their name]. I work with Jill Lastname and OP. On [date] at [time] (approx), I spoke with Jill Lastname, during which she referred to OP as [quoted insult]. I felt this was inappropriate as it directly related to OP's appearance and am willing to go on record further to establish that Jill Lastname has been discussing OP in the workplace in the same manner for 3 months now, causing me discomfort and creating what I feel is a hostile work environment. Signed [their name]"

I wound up with about 16 letters, all from different people, and one of them was in the lunchroom for my conversation with Jill. Some even had bulletpointed lists of everything Jill had said to them about me or other people, as it turns out Jill has issues with a lot of people's appearances. She apparently made comments about one coworker's weight, and something antisemitic about a different coworker's nose, all of which were put in these letters. There are about 45 people in the office so while 16 wasn't a majority, it's still a decent amount. The letters weren't hugely long, most were only a paragraph, but they had all the necessary information.

I was asked to come to HR at 10am. I took the letters from coworkers, the photocopy of the page in my contract, and my dates and times in a little folder with me.

I got there and Debbie was the one overseeing the interview. She got up from her desk, ready to lead me into another room.

I immediately turned to the other HR worker that was currently there and said "so is my meeting with you, then?"

Debbie said "no, you're with me."

I replied that this wouldn't sit well with me, as "my contract states I have a right to an impartial overseer" and as I said this I took the contract page out of my folder. Debbie read it (I wouldn't let her take the paper when there was a shredder so close by) and said she could be impartial. I replied that I really didn't mean to be a pain, but I had it on good authority that the person on the other end of this complaint is her friend, and my contract does say I'm allowed an impartial overseer.

Debbie stomped off to get Supervisor. Supervisor asks how I know she can't be impartial and I tell him that I have it on good authority that the Jill, who was on the other end of this complaint, is a close friend of Debbie. He asked Debbie if this was true, to which she only replied "I can be impartial".

Supervisor took a deep breath, asked the other HR rep to come with him, and the four of us all went to review the complaint. I thanked them for being so accommodating (I was worried I'd annoyed them), Debbie took out the complaint and all 3 of them went through it with me. Debbie looked homicidal the whole time the interview was happening, as she had clearly anticipated firing me (or at least recommending me being fired).

The interview went something like this. It took like over half an hour and they kept asking me the same questions but phrased different ways so this is a really drastically condensed version.

Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. Why is this?

A: Jill has had an issue with me for about 3 months now

Q: Why didn't you come to us when you realised Jill had an issue?

A: I had no issue with her

Q: What issue does Jill have with you?

A: Four years ago a specialist identified potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby removing the cells and the risk. After the surgery I was left with large scars on my chest. I went to a therapist for low self esteem and depression. The therapist suggested a plastic surgeon who suggested breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history which you have a copy of in my file and my full permission to review. Jill found out about my breast implants but didn't know about the cancer. Jill had a problem with my breast implants, and decided to communicate this problem to our coworkers.

Q: Why do you feel this is true?

A: Here's 16 signed statements all from different coworkers, all testifying that Jill told the entire office I'd had breast implants on the day she found out and has since made comments about these implants frequently. They have quotes of what Jill said to them about it and rough dates and times.

Q: Rough dates and times?

A: No one knew this would be escalated to such an extent so no one really took notes as and when it happened.

Q: What event or events do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment?

A: For me harassment began when Jill told everyone about my breast implants without my consent, but as to the complaint placed against me, it would probably be what happened at about [time] yesterday in the lunch room. Jill made a comment about me being shallow while gesturing to my breasts and I replied by giving her an abridged version of my relevant medical history and ending with a comment about the importance of getting the full story. There are cameras in the lunch room, so I'm sure you'll be able to find that conversation. I'll admit I could have handled the situation better, but after 3 months I felt I had to put my foot down. Here's a list of names of people who were also present. There were 6 people at the table, including myself and Jill. One of these people is also in those letters, and has written their account of the conversation and signed it.

Q: Had you had a conversation with Jill prior to this regarding her comments about you?

A: Several, spaced out over the last 3 months. Each time I communicated to her that I felt uncomfortable and upset with these comments she was making and would appreciate it if she were to stop.

Q: To your knowledge, was Jill made aware of your former cancer at any point in this time?

A: No. It wasn't mentioned in the conversation with my friend she overheard and I didn't tell her because frankly it's none of her business and I did not feel the need to detail my medical history to a coworker in order to avoid further sexual harassment.

Supervisor stands up and says "well I think we're done here". He shakes my hand and sends me back to my desk saying that I'd hear from them after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history and anything they had already) and made a decision on the case.

I got back to my desk, pulled up my CV, and prepared to start the job search again.

About an hour goes by, then the person who wrote the letter and was there for the lunchroom conversation gets called for a meeting with HR. They come back 10ish minutes later.

The other people who were also there for the lunchroom conversation get called one by one, except Jill. All of them are gone for about 10 minutes then come back, find a coworker, and say that HR wants to see them.

Then the people who wrote letters but weren't there yesterday are also called one by one and are each gone for about 10 minutes each, some longer, some shorter. By about 3:30 it looks like everyone who wrote a letter or was there in the lunch room has been interviewed.

Then, finally, Jill gets called in. She's gone for about 30 minutes and comes back fuming. She glares at me while I work, but I ignore her.

4:30ish, Jill gets called into HR again. 5 pm rolls around, everyone is either leaving or getting ready to leave, when Jill storms back into the office. She glares at me the whole time she packs up her desk. She then starts telling anyone who will listen that I got her fired before shoving her way onto the lift.

An email comes in from HR. My case is closed.

(source) story by (/u/3240278189)

#prorevenge #by /u/3240278189 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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copperbadge · 4 years

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Reading about your new job makes me feel really hopeful. I have questions about job hunting. How do you address whether prospective employers can contact your current employer, and how do you secure references, when your current employer will retaliate if they find out you’re hunting? (Mine have done this to others). 2) How do you manage motivation before you leave, maintain a work ethic you can be proud of when you’re always angry, frustrated, depressed? Any advice would be really appreciated.

Happy to help, Anon!

Most employers understand that if you’re looking for work, it’s potentially because your current workplace is SUPER UNPLEASANT. A lot of applications will have the “can we contact these people?” question, and you won’t be disqualified for saying no. I always, always put “references provided upon request” because the point of references is NOT that it’s part of the interview process – references are strictly for if you’ve already secured an offer and they just need to confirm your bona fides. I once had a person ask my boss to be my reference before they asked to interview me. Which is why nobody gets my references ahead of time anymore.

You are also under NO obligation to list your current manager. You can list coworkers, former coworkers, and former managers if that’s easier. The last time I gave a reference for someone, she was a colleague who outranked me but didn’t manage me. But she was also someone I had worked closely with, and I could speak to her work ethic and her abilities in general. So don’t be afraid to either say “provided upon request” and mention that you would deal with retaliation in an interview, or list sympathetic co-workers. If a job wants you to tell your current job you’re looking and won’t offer you a position first, don’t work for them. That’s a huge red flag.

As for managing motivation – well, that’s rough, especially if you’re in an abusive environment. I was being asked to do work right up to the day I left, and a colleague of mine who was leaving had to literally say on her last day, “I can’t do that because in two hours HR will take my laptop.”

The path I took – which is not the only option – was to act as if I knew, two years from now, I would want a job with them again. So I wanted to make sure that I didn’t burn any bridges; that I was professional to the end. In practice, this meant doing anything I was asked to do and reminding myself that in two weeks I wouldn’t have to anymore. It meant not going above and beyond, but also doing my job. A lot of times I reminded myself that on the one hand, someone I liked would have to do a lot of my job after I left, so I shouldn’t make it difficult, but on the other, the managers who had made my life so miserable were totally unprepared for the amount of work they’d also have to take on, and I didn’t want to make it easy on them. Bit of a balancing act, but also a distraction from all the anxiety and anger.

There is a pride to outclassing people that is difficult to attain. There’s a certain satisfaction in being the bigger person, but you have to work hard to get there. Ultimately, I think the best possible thing to keep in mind is no matter how awful it is there, now you have an end date -- and people will regret you leaving.

#Anonymous

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 9 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Please know how INCREDIBLY grateful we are to anyone who’s liked or commented on this story. It’s really a labor of love, and we’re thrilled that people are enjoying it! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet suffered a hangover and, to her delight, found an assistant candidate that Fame approved.

This Chapter: A million girls would kill for Courtney’s new job.

***

Courtney took a deep breath as she entered the Galactica building and took the elevator up to the 25th floor.

It was a sunny day in early August, and she had dressed in her very best outfit since it would be her first day at her brand new job.

Courtney had applied for the job with little to no hope of actually getting it, but then the miracle happened, and she had been completely overjoyed when her new friend Violet had called her with the news; even if the interview with Miss Fame had been one of the scariest things she had ever done.

Courtney’s entire weekend had been spent in a frantic state of pulling together the mountain of paperwork HR had requested in order to get her visa, and of course there was the anxiety about having nice enough clothes to wear.

She had ended up enlisting Tyra to help, since her college friend was the most stylish person she knew, and managed to do it on a budget, too. They’d scraped together enough pieces for this week, but if Courtney lasted longer than that, and she desperately hoped she would, she would have to beg, borrow and perhaps steal some more.

It was 8 am, and Courtney thought she would have been the first one in the building, but when she made it to the office, Violet was already there. Courtney quickly checked her hair and her teeth in the glass door reflection, smoothing out the wrinkles in her light blue dress before she opened the door with a big smile and a cheery, “Good morning!”

Violet looked up. She was wearing a white buttoned up shirt, golden jewelry and a crimson pencil skirt, her long black hair falling down her back in curly waves, looking as beautiful and impeccably put-together as always.

Violet was organizing something at a brand new desk that had not been there during Courtney’s interview. It was placed directly across from Violet’s desk, on the other side of the door to Fame’s office.

“Ah. Courtney.” Violet smiled. “Good morning.”

Courtney sighed, a bit relieved. Today, Violet seemed much more like the lovely girl she’d met at the club last week, and less like the uptight hardass she’d been during the interview. Courtney supposed that maybe that had been a test, and she was thrilled she passed, because now they could be friends.

She looked at the new desk, which was equipped with a new iMac and office supplies, along with a thick binder and notepad with the Galactica logo.

“Fame is getting her hair recolored and cut at Juju Sandersons salon-” Violet took a brief pause, her eyes searching Courtney’s face for something, and Courtney realized that she was probably expected to know who that was, though she had no idea. “Hmm.” Violet tapped her papers against the desk, putting them into a neat and organized pile. “Which means we have time to get you ready before she returns.”

“Get me ready?” Courtney looked down at herself; she thought she looked more than fine. She’d tried to look as chic as possible in honor of the new job.

“Not that. Your outfit is acceptable today.” Violet gestured for Courtney to come sit at the desk while she continued to stand. “Here.” Violet placed a stack of papers in front of Courtney on the table.

“What’s this?”

“I need you to sign this before we begin.” Violet put a perfectly manicured finger down on the paper, and Courtney’s nose was filled with the overpowering scent of lavender. “It’s a standard NDA. You’ll do the rest of your paperwork with HR later, but I can’t show you anything until you sign.”

“Oh...okay.” Courtney wasn’t sure exactly what an NDA was, but if it was that important, she supposed she better sign immediately. She picked up a pen and began to fill it out as quickly as possible.

Her pen had barely lifted from the last line when Violet snatched it off the table, replacing it with the binder.

“Thank you.”

Violet pointed to the binder, a 4-inch monstrosity filled with tabbed sections and little flag stickers. “I took the liberty of preparing a manual for you. It’s nowhere near complete, but it’s enough to get you started. Read it, memorize it, get to know everything inside.”

“Sure,” Courtney said, and opened the cover, a little startled when Violet reached out a hand to snap it shut again.

“Not now.” Violet sighed. “Do that on your own time. Please.”

“Sorry.” Courtney swallowed. Guess party Violet was a lot further away than she had thought.

“I’ve pulled these for you from marketing.” Violet dumped a stack of colorful catalogues on Courtney’s desk. “Brochures for the last 10 years, so you can become familiar with the collections. Every day here can be a test, so be serious when you study them. Miss Fame will frequently ask for references, and sometimes she won’t give much information. You’re expected to be able to find ‘the powder blue tweed skirt’ or ‘the dress with the flowers’. It’s your job to figure out what Miss Fame wants. Never ask her for clarification.”

“Never?”

“If you do, she’ll be aggravated, and believe me, you do not want to experience her aggravated.”

“Right…”

“Remember, this will be fun,” Violet touched Courtney’s shoulder, a smile on her face. “You told me you love fashion, right?”

Courtney nodded. She was starting to have a sneaking suspicion that her idea of loving fashion was different from Violet’s.

“Here’s the company directory.” Violet put yet another document folder on the table, this time filled with laminated sheets. “All of these are obviously in the binder, section 2, but I made some laminated versions for your desk. You need to know this backwards and forwards. Focus on senior management first, they’re the most important, but you’ll be expected to name and know the other assistants. Know the support staff too, but that won’t be expected until at least your third week here. This-” Violet pulled another list out of the folder, “is a list of the company’s trusted vendors and consultants. Do not, and I repeat, do not, just use whoever you think will be able to do a good job.”

Violet waited for a beat to make sure Courtney had understood.

“And this is Miss Fame’s approved list - her close friends and trusted associates. Pay attention to it; none of the people here should ever have to wait more than an hour for a callback.”

“Is Adore on it?” Courtney’s eyes lit up, looking down at the list.

“This isn’t about your friend.”

“Right, of course.” Courtney added the new papers to the growing stack of material she was expected to memorize.

“Now...” Violet placed a brand new iPhone in front of her, which Courtney immediately grabbed, gasping when she turned it around and saw that it was the one in rose gold.

“Oh my god!” Courtney loved it. It was sparkly and fun and just what she needed after what felt like hours of white paper and black folders.

“Are you disappointed?” Violet looked genuinely sorry. “I can have it exchanged if you don’t enjoy pink, I simply thought-” Violet extended her hand, ready to take the phone back.

“No!” Courtney moved so Violet couldn’t get it. “No! It’s fine! More than fine! I love it!”

“Great.” Violet pulled a chair up to Courtney’s desk, sitting down and looking at her gravely. “This phone is your most important piece of work equipment. It’s not a toy, and it’s not for your personal use, okay? I don’t want to catch you playing Candy Crush or screwing around on social media with this.”

Courtney nodded, already knowing now that she did not intend to keep that promise at all. This was the best thing that had happened all day; her new phone was going with her everywhere from now on. She glanced around the office to see where the best selfie light would be, already imagining the post with #firstday in the caption.

“You will never, and I mean never, leave your phone unattended during business hours.”

Courtney swallowed, her daydream of selfies completely forgotten. Violet sounded serious. Way serious.

“We do have an office line,” Violet pointed at the phone on Courtney’s desk, which had a corresponding model on Violet’s, “but any calls get redirected to our phones if no one picks up within the first four rings.”

Courtney nodded again, trying to commit everything Violet was saying to memory.

“Fame uses these numbers to get in touch with us, so you’ll have it on, even during nights and weekends in case Fame needs us.”

“Got it.” Courtney smiled. It sounded kind of extreme and she was pretty sure Violet was exaggerating. Who had their work phone on over the weekends?

“Good. Now remember, there will never be any excuse good enough not to take your phone if Fame calls during the weekend, and you will always, and I mean always, have it fully charged. Nothing is more useless than an assistant you can’t get a hold of.”

Courtney nodded, keeping a very serious expression on her face to match Violet’s tone.

“Always bring a notepad with you too. Fame is busy and if we can help it we never bother her with any follow-up questions, we just do what we’re supposed to.”

“Right.” Courtney almost bit her lip, the word starting to sound stupid to her own ears since she had said it so much.

“Last but not least,” Violet placed a keycard in front of Courtney next with her full name and photo on it. “This is your keycard to the building. We have one of the highest security ratings, so never, and I mean never, ever, ever, lose it. We can go through every door on every floor except for senior management’s private offices, though yours will work for Fame’s.”

“We can go into Fame’s office?” Courtney smiled widely, already excited about snooping around in the inner secrets of Galactica’s glamorous CEO.

“Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.”

“Oh…”

“We are assistants, Courtney, and therefore the least important people in this company.”

Courtney wrinkled her brow. She was pretty sure she had just heard Violet say they had access to everything, which seemed pretty damned important if you asked her.

“We’re not here for personal gain or to have fun, but to make Miss Fame’s workday as easy and effortless as humanly possible. If we fuck up, we can get fired, so I hope you have prepared yourself for that.”

Courtney gulped, realizing for the first time how much responsibility was about to be piled on her slim shoulders.

***

Violet glanced at the clock. She had spent about an hour introducing Courtney to everything in their suite, as well as the most important computer systems. It seemed like the blonde was picking it up well enough, but Violet could also sense that she was getting tired and overwhelmed.

It was understandable, but annoying, since Violet knew how rare it was for Fame not to be in the office.

She checked her phone, a text from Juju’s assistant telling Violet that Fame was safely in the chair at the salon, and Violet decided that it was time to throw Courtney a treat.

“Courtney. Get your things, come with me and I’ll give you a tour of the building.”

“Yes!” Courtney smiled brightly, pumping her fist and grabbing her things, relieved to be allowed away from her desk.

***

Courtney hadn’t seen much of Galactica so far, and as she followed behind Violet, she felt like she was being swallowed up by a world of white. Everything at Galactica was kept sparkling clean, the floors in some places so newly polished, Courtney could see her own face.

The only thing breaking up the monotony of the long hallways and immaculate conference rooms were giant pieces of art that hung on the walls, Violet offhandedly naming painters and artists like Courtney was supposed to know who they were.

Violet showed her the office supply closets, the boring interior of it, shelves stuffed with post-its and binder clips almost seeming wrong in a place that was otherwise so slick and fashionable, before opening the door to “Max’s studio,” where some kind of photo shoot was in progress, a few models in chairs getting made up. Courtney watched for a few moments, a secret thrill rippling through her at the thought of someday being in one of those chairs, before Violet shut the door again, pulling her farther down the hall.

“What was that shoot for?!” Courtney asked excitedly. “Do we ever get to-”

“This...” Violet cut Courtney off, completely ignoring her. “Is Raja Amrull’s office. Her assistant’s name is Ivy, and she’ll be the closest thing you have to a coworker here.” Violet pushed a door open, and as Courtney stepped inside, she felt like she was taken to another world.

Raja’s office was filled with plants, the white walls and somewhat sterile look of the rest of the company exchanged with a lush explosion of warm colors. The assistant’s desk was heavy oak, while the cream white couch of Fame’s waiting area was replaced with a deep brown leather one that stood on top of what Courtney could only assume was a real Persian rug.

“As you can see, Raja doesn’t share Fame’s appreciation for Scandinavian design.” Violet smiled, and Courtney was pretty sure that Violet had just made a joke.

She was just about to open her mouth when they were interrupted by a redhead who came through the door from the outside.

“Violet!”

“Hello Ivy.”

Ivy was absolutely stunning. Her copper red hair was collected on top of her head, and she was wearing a beautiful green pantsuit that suited her perfectly.

“Ivy, Courtney, Courtney, Ivy. It’s her first day.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Ivy held her hand out, a smile on her face as she shook Courtney’s, leaning in with a conspiratorial wink. “I know it can be a bit much when you start here, so let me know if there’s ever anything I can do to help you.”

Courtney just about swooned in gratitude, Ivy’s warm and caring nature so immediately different from anything else she’d experienced all day.

“I’m showing her around,” Violet explained.

“Do you want to check out the styling closets?” Ivy asked, a twinkle in her eye as she confided, “My favorite place in the company.”

“Sure!”

Violet checked the clock on her phone screen, sighing slightly, as Ivy led Courtney through a door in their suite to one of the most amazing sights Courtney had ever seen. When she imagined working at a famous fashion house, this was what she’d fantasized about. Racks and racks of clothes in every color, hundreds of shoes lining the shelves, every accessory you could ever want. Courtney’s mouth opened in delight; she had to resist the impulse to clap her hands and jump up as down like a child.

“This is incredible!”

“I know, right? Our own little slice of paradise,” Ivy said. “You know, sometimes when I’m cleaning things out, there are pieces up for grabs. I could maybe-”

“Thanks Ivy, that’s enough” Violet said. She leaned in to Ivy, muttering under her breath, “Let’s get her through the week before we promise her perks.”

“Violet,” Ivy admonished gently, eyes sparkling, but she went along with the request, closing the door.

“Wait, you mean we get to-” Courtney began.

“Courtney, come. We have a lot more ground to cover,” Violet said, ushering her out the door and down a flight of stairs.

Courtney followed along, feeling a bit more excited after what she’d just seen—the photo shoot and the amazing closet. Maybe this job would be exciting and glamorous after all.

“The 24th floor is basically everything not directly related to fashion and design,” Violet was explaining. “HR, accounting, operations. You should be sure to make friends with Shangela, the Director of Operations. She’d been here forever and knows pretty much everything about the management side of things.”

Violet opened the doors to a large bullpen. It was still white and slick like the floor above, but slightly busier, more office-like. Open cubicles with shining white desks, people bustling around, larger offices lining 3 of the walls, light pouring in from the big windows filling the 4th.

“Here we have marketing, which is led by Alyssa Edwards, whom you’ll get to meet soon enough.” Violet said, walking briskly through the space.

Courtney nodded, almost running a little to keep up with her, silently cursing herself for the sky-high stilettos she had worn for her first day - she would have loved to wear her 3-inch pumps, but after her interview she knew they wouldn’t cut it. But Courtney had no idea there would be this much walking in an assistant job; in her mind it had been a job mostly about sitting at a desk, fielding calls from designers and the press and being pretty.

“This is PR and social media. Pearl Liaison, who oversees that department, is notoriously difficult to get a hold of. She spends very little of her time at the office.”

“Where does she spend her time then?”

“Pearl goes to every fashion related event in New York City. She usually covers everything that Fame or Raja are either too busy to attend, or simply don’t care for.”

“Do we ever get to go to parties for Galactica? Like, as assistants?”

“No.”

“Oh…” Courtney bit her lip, a little disappointed.

“If you desperately need Pearl, tweet her.”

“Tweet her?”

“I’m trying to teach her to accept calls like a normal person.”

“Wait.” It almost looked like Violet was smiling, and Courtney suddenly remembered that she was pretty sure she had seen the woman in question before at the club. “Pearl? Isn’t she the one who-”

“Shangela!” Violet exclaimed, turning from Courtney towards a beautiful black woman in a pink skirt suit. “This is Courtney, Miss Fame’s new assistant.”

Shangela gave Courtney a quick once-over before shaking her hand. “Welcome aboard. You’re in good hands.”

“Thank you.”

“Violet, I know you’re still waiting on her to agree to pushing the Tuesday meeting, but I really think it’s important,” Shangela said. “Jaida and I need time to revise everything—you know what a mess everyone has been, we barely even have rough numbers.”

“I’ll do my best,” Violet said.

“Thanks, love.” Shangela gave her an air kiss and continued on her way.

“Okay, so-” Violet said, approaching the door to the stairwell again.

“What’s that?” Courtney asked, pointing to a room where several employees were gathered around an espresso machine.

“The breakroom. You won’t be needing it,” Violet told her, pointing towards the stairs. “This way.”

They took one more flight down and Courtney could tell from the way Violet’s face got a bit dreamy that there was something truly spectacular underway.

“Twenty-three is where the major creative work takes place. The executives for our makeup line have an office here, and design-”

“Makeup?! Here?!” Courtney squealed.

“Where else?”

Courtney knew, of course, that Galactica had a makeup line—a very high-end, exclusive one that she couldn’t afford herself, but she’d assumed that it was all done in some factory somewhere. The idea of having it in the same office was terribly exciting.

“Here’s where the designers work,” Violet said, pulling open a set of heavy doors, just as her phone buzzed in her hand. “Sorry, I have to- Hold that thought.”

Courtney tried to see the text that Violet received, but the other girl was too fast.

“Fuck! Courtney. Come with me!” Violet let the door to design close heavily, barely offering Courtney a glance inside, turning and racing back up the stairs in a panic.

“Violet, what’s wrong?!” Courtney ran after her as fast as she could, but the other girl was taking the stairs two at a time.

“Fame is on her way, her driver just texted me and she got in a taxi while he was circling the block, now come on.” Violet rattled it off, words falling from her like a waterfall, Violet barely even sounding out of breath.

“Is the tour over?” Courtney asked, panting. Damn, she was fast.

“What do you think?” Violet replied, her voice exasperated, her tone sharp as she rattled off orders. “Go to the coffee shop in the lobby, pick up a fresh latte, the barista will know her order. You’ll need to pick up breakfast from 10 too. Can you handle that?””

“From 10?”

“The tenth floor, are you even listening to-” Violet groaned, and turned on the stairs. “Courtney. I’m only going to ask you this once. Get your shit together, and get it together now.”

“I’m sorry!”

Courtney felt sweaty and disheveled by the time they made it back to their office, Violet throwing open a drawer and pulling out a wad of cash. She stuffed it into Courtney’s dress pocket and then shoved her out the door.

“Lobby, then 10! I’ll text you the order. Run!”

Courtney ran. By the time she’d gotten to the lobby, she had a series of texts from Violet with detailed instructions: exactly what the coffee order was (medium double extra hot skinny vanilla unsweetened almond milk latte, cold foam and 2 shakes of cinnamon), to remember to get a receipt and tip the barista (WRITE THE TIP AMOUNT ON THE RECEIPT), a reminder about Fame’s breakfast (her order’s been called in but you need to double check that it’s correct: egg whites scrambled with mushrooms and spinach, sliced tomatoes instead of toast, side of avocado--make sure it is SEPARATE and not touching the other food or it’ll get warm and she HATES warm avocado, small fruit salad with NO pineapple also in a separate container), and one last reminder, in case Courtney had forgotten the main objective, to HURRY!!!

She was in such a panic going back that when the elevator doors opened and she raced back towards the office, she didn’t even notice the imposing figure in a cream-colored coat strolling through the lobby.

When she did, attempting to stop short so that she wouldn’t crash into the woman, she had too much forward momentum to stop, and then everything happened in slow motion…

She stumbled in her heels, squeezing the paper coffee cup in her hand just enough so that the lid popped open, sending half of the contents sailing through the air, landing directly on said cream-colored coat.

As Courtney stood there in horror, blood rushing to her ears, Fame turned around, noticed the stain, and gave her a look that made her want to disappear more than she ever had in her life.

Heart pounding, Courtney opened her mouth to speak, to apologize, but nothing came out. Instead, the next word either of them uttered was when Fame turned away from her in a fury, and shouted,

“VIOLET!”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #violet chachki #courtney act #ivy winters #shangela laquifa wadley

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redeyedryu · 4 years

Text

Rant and rambles incoming about the bull crap going on at work because this is eating me up.

So I wound up calling in sick to work for Tuesday and my boss told me to maybe just take the week off, as “your head’s not here.” And honestly... no, it’s not. I spent the entirety of Monday livid as all hell because the flight chief (or our squadron commander, I’m not sure whose idea it was exactly) decided to ask the facility managers 1) who owns a sewing machine and 2) who knows how to sew. My boss responded that we have two and that she knows how to sew.

When I get in in the morning, she poses the question to us about if we know how to sew, or are willing to learn. I know a little but said I would not be willing to learn if it was for the flight chief. My co-worker refused and said she would only do it under duress.

A little back story on what’s been going on and why I am (and my co-workers are) so upset:

I work at an Arts and Crafts store on an American military base. We’re considered non-essential and if you look at the base’s page on facility closures, ours is listed as closed with “minimal manning” and curb-side pick up options available (please tell me what is considered “minimal manning” when all of us are still reporting to work).

The week of March 16th we were told we were going to be shut down for at least 2 weeks starting on that Thursday, the 19th, until further notice and people that can work from home are encouraged to do so. Great, the base and leadership are taking this seriously, I had thought. It’s worth noting that all of my coworkers are in the high risk group.

However. Come Monday, the 23rd, I get a call from my boss that we’re to come back in. The flight chief wants us to clean and reorganize the facility (something that had been discussed prior to everything going down, that involved closing the facility but hey, we’re closed now, so why not use this opportunity to do so?). Yeah, okay, that’s fine. I’m not happy but whatever. So we all go in and we’re working and it’s not easy stuff--I’m moving cabinets and shelving units, doing the majority of the heavy lifting because I’m pretty much the only one able to do so. It’s tiring work and I’m dead sore by Wednesday morning but it’s fine, nothing I’m not used to. What throws a wrench into this is that the flight chief suddenly comes up with this thought Oh, why don’t you guys put together crafting kits to give away to families? He wants them to last for about an hour each day and to cover two weeks. He wants 50 by Friday (and we were told this on... Tuesday or Wednesday. Not a lot of time to prepare). Alright, cool. We can do that... So we go through our crafts and come up with this stuff and start putting packets together. But guess what? He comes back with, can you make an additional 50? And then another 50? and another 50? That was 4 sets of 50 (but wound up being 48 each), and he even tried to get us to do an additional 50 on top of that but my boss had to tell him we don’t have anything to put more together because they all had to be the SAME. So it boiled down to a total of 384 bags we put together.

And all throughout this week he and the marketing manager kept coming to the facility and “checking in”. They try to talk to us, all while ignoring the whole keeping your distance from people, while we’re in the middle of tasks and trying to get all this shit done when it’s pretty much just two people (our engraver was stuck at her laser making one craft and my boss would have to deal with them). We’d have some volunteers come over but they’d only be around for a couple hours, if they even showed up, and they weren’t very inclined to listen to direction from anyone other than my boss.

I’m not one to sit around and chit chat, especially not when I have work to do. So I would greet them and then leave. Same with my other coworkers. But the flight chief? Guess what. :) After one visit, he texted my boss telling her to call him from her office, where he then proceeded to say my coworkers and I have horrible customer service and that he was embarrassed by how he and the marketing manager were treated: that we ignored them and kept running away and that we need to be showing only the highest level of service to everyone. He then proceeded to tell her that she needs to give us all customer service training. You know, because we’re so fucking terrible. I’m sorry? You are over here working us to the bone and piling more and more stuff on us and you expect us to have the time and energy to expend on idle chatter? Especially considering the state of affairs in the world? No.

Never mind the fact that they wound up roping our crafting kit thing into a marketing event without telling us about it at all. We had to find out by reading the e-mail that was sent out to everyone. And oh, the flight chief and the marketing director had agreed with my boss not to do reservations for these kits but guess what? In the e-mail it said to call and reserve yours. That wound up tying my boss on the line for at least a solid hour and a half. And the trouble with reservations is that people will inevitably reserve something and not show up. Which is exactly what happened.

So that was a week from hell. But I was off the following week, Monday-Wednesday, as I had requested time off months prior. I was sent home on Thursday, into Friday, due to not feeling well, so I didn’t work that week. That brings us back to Monday.

Turns out whoever decided that we will be making masks for the Wing. My boss put one together following the CDC’s guidelines, which the flight chief wound up taking (and giving away). Upon the return of the flight chief and the marketing manager about an hour later, they start discussing it and asked how many could be made in an hour. Going by my boss’s speed, she said probably 6, maybe 8 in an hour. So of course they latched on to the 8 (the flight chief tried to push for 10 in an hour). The flight chief stepped aside at some point to talk to the commander and she said she wanted the masks made with pleats, “so there were more layers to catch stuff.” Except... those pleats are meant for the mask to expand for coverage, not to “catch stuff”. Whatever. Americans don’t really understand the whole face mask thing.

So they start spit-balling numbers and asking about production of a pleated version versus a non-pleated version and somehow 100 masks turns into 1,000 in 10 days and from the way they were talking it sounded as if they were assuming all of us would be sewing these masks at a rate of 8 per hour... on top of them wanting us to make an additional 4 weeks of crafting kits and still cleaning/reorganizing the facility.

So. Cue me having a mental break because first of all, we shouldn’t even be reporting to work. Only mission essential/critical people are supposed to be working; we aren’t either category. We were called back after being told we’d be off, only for us to be tossed into a hellish workload that just seems to be ever increasing and I just cannot get behind this. And sewing masks? Putting together kits and uploading the tutorials for them? That can easily be done from home. But from the way they were talking on Monday it seems as if the flight chief and the marketing manager (I don’t know why she’s always there, I really don’t) do not support the idea of working from home.

I came to the realization Monday night that all these ailments I’ve been dealing with lately are physical manifestations of stress and I just can’t handle the situation at work. When my boss texted me about staying home this week, I asked if they’d be alright at work and she replied with “who knows” and on the one hand great, I’m not dealing with the stress at work but on the other, I’m leaving my coworkers to pickup my slack, thus making me feel like shit regardless. But I honestly... I can’t handle this situation; it doesn’t seem right and it feels like leadership doesn’t care about the well-being of us “little people”. Sure they come over and tout praises and flowery words but do any of them offer to help with all the hard work? Of course not. But “We’re all tired,” they had said.

Spare me.

So. Yeah. That’s where I’m at and I’m honestly... not sure what to do. My sister’s been giving me advice and telling me to seek guidance from HR but... no one else seems to want to speak out for fear of retaliation. And I just. I can’t keep doing this.

#Red Rambles #Life Update #There's also the fact that this guy has forced my dad out of his job #There have been things going on for MONTHS #Honestly it's more like the entirety of last year #Things have not been well for a long time and I've reached a breaking point #I don't feel like I can handle things anymore #I want to help at work but I can't handle all this stress #I can't look at that guy's face without getting so incredibly ANGRY

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oforamuse · 4 years

Text

i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 2/?

mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.

the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.

or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.

au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

read and comment on ao3 / CHAPTER ONE

Living with Mandy definitely isn’t like the fucking Brady Bunch, or whatever you’d expect between two siblings. They get by mainly because they stay out of each other’s crap and each other’s way. Mickey will go out if Mandy brings home some guy she wants to fuck (and vice versa), Mandy will leave Mickey dinner if she’s cooked enough and he’s getting in late from work, and they both surprisingly take turns in the cleaning jobs - it’s simple and it works. They operate more like convenient roommates than two people from the same childhood home and bloodline. They’ve never been particularly close and they don’t really pretend to be. Sure, they have their moments where they laugh and crack open a beer a few nights a week but they don’t come crying to each other about their problems. Mickey can count the number of times Mandy visited him over 6 years on one hand, which he pretends doesn’t hurt, but it does.

He knows he could've been a more supportive brother when he was younger too. They both kind of failed each other in that respect.

By the time Mickey pulls himself off the floor, the kitchen is dark, and he must’ve been lying on the floor hours. He thinks he fell asleep at some point but he can’t be sure, everything is confusing and everything aches.

He stumbles into his room and switches on the light, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. He finds his phone on the side, still plugged in where he’d left it this morning on what he thought was a quick grocery store trip. His stomach swirls at the memory, which is quickly followed by an angry growl and Mickey remembers he hasn’t eaten anything all day. He checks his phone to see the time and there’s a text on the screen from an unknown number a few hours ago.

4:41pm: from UNKNOWN SENDER

‘Mandy gave me your number, I just want to talk.’

‘Fuckin’ traitor.’ Mickey mutters, weighing up whether or not to respond or to throw his phone into the East River. He can claim that on insurance, right?

His stomach growls again and his fingers itch to type out a reply.

Ian’s always been a persistent fucker. Unfortunately for Mickey, he's always ended up giving in to the younger boy. Whether it was putting up with him even when Mickey tried his hardest in the beginning to act like he didn’t want him around or suggesting community college or pushing and pushing and pushing until Mickey grew a pair and came out, Ian always seemed to be nagging about something. Up until those last few months where his mania was getting out of hand, he’d always been the one with the steady plan and expectations, or so Mickey thought. Reluctantly, he knows Ian won’t give up until Mickey gives him a straight answer or hears him out properly, his persistence used to be endearing but now it’s just fucking inconvenient. He sighs, the phone as heavy in his hand as the feelings in his chest and suddenly he feels 19 years old again.

They agree to meet an hour or so later at a bar Mickey frequents a few blocks down, a smaller slightly less sticky version of The Alibi run single handedly by this woman born and raised from Brooklyn. Mickey spent an embarrassingly long time choosing an outfit to wear (which he'd argue was because of having not done his laundry), swapping his shirts multiple times before he just gave up and chose something random. Heck, he even put some cologne on, though he’d never actually admit it.

When he leaves his apartment is tension is palpable and he's somewhat worried he might even break a sweat. Mandy didn't show her face for the rest of the evening, hr door remaining firmly closed, so luckily he didn't have to avoid any suspicious questions.

As soon as Mickey turns the corner and the bar comes into sight, his hands uncharacteristically clam up, instantly regrets giving into the Gallagher’s request. He stops underneath the Heineken sign in the window, basking in the green neon glow as he fishes out a cigarette. He’s already a few minutes late and he figures Ian can live with waiting an extra few minutes whilst he has a smoke to calm his nerves. Mickey had to wait 9 fucking years, the guy can deal with Mickey taking a minute. The smoke fills his lungs, warm and familiar, it’s the only thing normal about this weird fucking day. When Mickey Milkovich woke up this morning he did not expect to come face to face with the guy he’s spent so fucking long trying to move on from, it was absolutely at the bottom of the list of possibilities for the day. He smokes right up to the end of the filter, squeezing out every last moment of peace he can before he flicks it to the ground and stomps on it.

It’s now or never, Milkovich.

He takes a deep breath and pushes the wooden door open, stepping into the busy dimly lit bar.

‘Mickey!’ Rosa calls from behind the bar when she sees him, her smile huge and her hand is already pulling down a pint of Mickey’s usual beer.

Great, announce my fucking presence to the whole room.

He winces, maybe he does come here a little too regularly.

Mickey throws her a forced smile and scans the room for Ian, spotting him sitting in a back corner booth looking at his phone. As if he'd called his name, Ian's eyes flicker up just as Mickey catches him and they meet, Ian holding his hand up awkwardly in greeting. He takes a deep breath and goes over to the bar to get his drink, Rosa throws him a questioning look.

She gestures her head towards Ian’s table. ‘First date?’ She asks innocently, handing him his pint, ‘You meet him online? He’s hot.’ She wriggles her eyebrows suggestively and Mickey wants this all to be over.

‘Stick it on my tab.’ Mickey says steadily, swallowing down a biting response. He ignores her prying questions and chooses to flip her off as a thank you instead. He walks over to Ian’s table, his eyes pinned to a point on the wall above his head so he conveniently doesn’t actually have to look at the guy on his journey over.

His heart thumps. Thump, thump, thump.

He gulps.

There's a moment of blink and you'll miss it hesitation before he slumps down into the booth opposite, then Ian looks up from where he’s been fiddling with the label on his beer. His eyes get drawn to Ian’s slender fingers picking at the paper and he notes that the beer has an incredibly low alcohol percentage, barely even being able to call itself beer.

‘The fuck you drinking that piss for?’ He asks, unable to let the opportunity to poke at the other man pass him by. It's a good icebreaker apparently, because Ian smiles shyly. Mickey's never been one for small talk, especially not when he’s nervous.

‘My meds.’ Ian says simply, his forehead creasing ever so slightly, ‘It took a while getting used to it, but it basically tastes the same.’

He remembers the conversation they had with the doctor, Ian sitting opposite him with dead eyes and not saying a word. Falling further and further away from him with every single description of meds he had to take, or things he couldn’t drink or do because of his diagnosis.

‘Fuckin’ doubt that.’ Mickey grunts casually, taking a swig of his very alcoholic beer. He stares at Ian from over the glass. The other man shifts and reaches a tentative hand out on the table between them. There's a beat.

‘I-, uh, I’ve missed you.’ Ian offers hesitantly, his voice low and uncertain.

‘No you haven’t.’ Mickey says bluntly, his right hand gripping his glass tightly. Ian sighs, sitting up properly from where he’d been slouched over.

‘I have, Mick.’ Ian replies, and there it is again, that fucking nickname.

‘Miss me enough to come visit me, yeah? Or how about even a fuckin’ call?’ Mickey says bitterly, running a hand through his hair. ‘Miss me fuckin’ enough to leave me high and dry for 6 years?’

Ian scrubs his hands over his face, ‘I’m sorry’ he offers. ‘I shouldn’t have done that to you. I shouldn’t have left you there.’

‘Why did you?’ Mickey asks, and it falls out awkwardly. He's got to know. He's got to know why he wasn't enough.

‘I was a kid and I was fucked up.’ Ian says, pulling his arm back into his lap. Mickey is momentarily shocked at the honesty - he thought Ian would’ve put up more of a fight like he did when he was younger. ‘I was a kid in over his head and I thought I knew best…I thought you were better off without having to deal with me.’

‘Bullshit.’ Mickey spits, anger and hurt beginning to simmer in his belly. Nothing about what he had to go through left him better off.

‘I know that now.’ Ian says, meeting Mickey’s eyes. There isn’t a hint of blame in Ian’s eyes, but his face is held tight with regret. ‘It was bullshit.’

His words rolls over him like a cascading landslide.

God, Mickey can’t even count the amount of time he spent wishing those first few years of being locked up that he’d hear Ian say those words. Mickey rubs at his eyes, breaking their eye contact. He sits there for a second, letting his vision go black and spotty. It kinda looks how he feels. He wishes he could fall right into that dark pit and blink out of existence.

Ian pulls him back.

‘I wanted to come see you.’ Ian confesses and Mickey drops his hands. ‘I really did.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ He asks and Ian looks away, ashamed.

‘I figured you didn’t want to see me.’ He says, quietly, his fingers going back down the ripped up label. ‘It was hard picturing you there…’

‘Bullshit.’ Mickey repeats, this time with more obvious anger. Ian looks up at him, pained.

‘No, Mick, I-’ He stops and swallows. ‘By the time I had managed to sort my shit out, it had been a while. I figured you must’ve hated me.’

‘I didn’t.’ Mickey says firmly, his eyes threatening to well up with unwanted tears. He scrubs them furiously away.

The silence hangs between them, only broken by a bar full of bustling noise.

At least everyone else was having a normal night, Mickey thinks, at least everyone else doesn't have to deal with their entire everything being turned upside down and thrown out for the entire world to see-

‘You should’ve.’ Ian says, finally, breaking Mickey's internal dialogue.

‘Yeah.’ Mickey says, not meeting Ian’s gaze. ‘I probably should’ve.’

He’s exhausted, this is exhausting. He wants to tell Ian that he hated him, that he still hates him. Mickey knows it would be a lie. He wants to tell Ian to fuck off, to get the fuck out of New York and leave him alone.

He can’t. He won’t.

Because try as he might, and he’s tried so fucking hard, everything always comes back to Ian.

‘I’ve never hated you.’ Mickey says subconsciously, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Ian's desperate gaze, ‘Could never hate you.’

And it's true. He never could, never in a million years.

They look at each other. Their years and years of history spread on the table between them. Souls bared and vulnerable.

‘Why didn’t you come find me?’ Ian asks, so quiet Mickey almost misses it. Ian’s gaze shifts awkwardly as he explains as Mickey can feel himself scowl. ‘When you got out?’ Why didn’t you come find me?’

Ian looks at him so earnestly and Mickey almost bowls right over. He can’t fucking believe what he’s hearing.

‘Are you- are you fucking kidding me?’ He bites, jaw clenched so tightly he thinks he might break a tooth. ‘Are you seriously asking me right now, why I didn’t come find you after waiting six motherfuckin’ years for you to come find me?’

Ian shrinks back, ashamed and wounded. He doesn't even try to fight it. ‘I guess I deserve that.’ He says after a while and Mickey raises his eyebrows, surprised once again at Ian’s lack of self defence. ‘I know I fucked things up.’

‘Yeah.’ Mickey breathes, ‘You did.’

He puts his beer to his lips and drinks. It stings.

‘I’m on meds, have been for the last few years.’ Ian confesses. ‘It took awhile to sort out, I, uh, had a rough time at first, but I’m good now.’

Mickey’s heart twinges. He remembers Ian’s mania, him bringing in all kinds of shit into their home, running miles every morning and fucking Mickey long into the night. Fucking other guys between that too. He aches at the thought of Ian barely wanting to get out of bed, going days without food or showering. Not saying a word to anyone for hours.

Mickey runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. He wants to take Ian by the shoulders and apologise for how he acted back then, he wants to slip his arms around his neck and breath him in, pull him close. He settles for a small smile.

‘Good.’ He offers, ‘Better than havin’ your crazy ass running around.’ and Ian laughs weakly.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth that’s not from his beer. It’s the realisation that Ian got himself better without Mickey’s help, that perhaps Ian was right after all and that one of them was better off without the other.

Fuck, he needs a smoke. His hand comes down to feel the packet in his pocket and he lets it ground him. He'll get through this, he'll get through this and go to the bodega and get his pack of smokes. He just needs to make it through this conversation without completely breaking down.

There’s a pregnant pause, neither man sure of where to step next. He takes a sharp breath and jumps.

‘What the hell are you doing here anyway? Didn’t think they let Gallaghers leave the fuckin’ state.’ Mickey says plainly, shifting the subject. It's been nagging on his mind since their first encounter - what the fuck is Ian doing in New York City of all places?

‘Didn’t think they let Milkovichs either.’ Ian quips back, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

Mickey rolls his eyes, ‘Fair enough.’

‘Fiona’s, uh, Fiona’s actually getting married here.’ Ian explains, ‘She met some rich guy from upstate a year ago and they’re tying the knot.’ Mickey snorts, remembering the string of guys Fiona would always have trailing after her like lost fucking dogs, it’s surprising that one has finally managed to pin her down.

‘She pregnant?’ He asks, both as a genuine question and a jab. Given the Gallagher parent’s rep for popping out a kid every other year or so, he wouldn’t be surprised.

‘Nah.’ Ian replies, ‘In love apparently.’ He chuckles wistfully before his eyes catch Mickey’s for a moment and they shift pointedly away.

‘Good for her.’ He says uncomfortably, and he somewhat means it. There’s a pause and Mickey wonders if it’s time to call it a night because he can not deal with this right now because God. fuckin’. damn. he needs a smoke. Apparently his mouth hasn't caught up with his nicotine addiction, ‘How’d she meet the dude?’ He finds himself asking.

‘He’s some business man or something, he was in town on some job and I dunno, they hit it off.’ Ian shrugs, ‘Lip’s got a kid now, though.’ Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. He knows that Lip used to be an important part of the Gallagher household but fuck, Mickey would never give that man a kid of his own.

‘Who the fuck gave him a kid?’

‘A broken condom.’ Ian says bluntly, ‘Debbie’s got one too.’

‘A broken condom?’ Mickey quips back, somewhere between confused and somewhat disgusted at the idea of Debbie actually having sex considering the last time he saw her she was practically an infant.

Okay, like 14, but whatever.

‘A kid.’ Ian rolls his eyes almost fondly and it throws Mickey back ten years, as if they were back underneath the bleachers at the dugouts. It’s easy to forget that literal years have passed between them.

‘Jesus Christ , you Gallaghers have been fuckin’ reproducing like rabbits. There’s enough of you in the world as it is.’ He swallows uncomfortably before continuing, ‘You got a kid hiding somewhere?’

‘Fuck no.’ Ian laughs and something uneven in Mickey’s gut he didn’t even know was there settles pleasantly.

He glances quickly down to Ian’s left hand, no ring.

Interesting.

No kid, check. No ring, check. Boyfriend?

‘So the entire clan is back in town then?’ Mickey asks in an attempt to distract his thoughts away from Ian and other people.

‘Yeah, we’re all here.’ Ian replies.

‘Fuck, I’m not gonna be able to leave my apartment without bumping into one of you goddamn Gallaghers.’ Mickey jokes, taking a swig of his beer. There’s a beat and Mickey takes a moment to simply enjoy being back in Ian's company. He's missed him so fucking much he feels like he could drown in it, it rolls over him like waves. Over the years he's barely let himself admit it - he's always gotta be the cool and unbothered one, never the one to harp on the past. He doesn't think he's even mentioned Ian to anyone except Mandy since moving to New York, his name always painful and heavy whenever he does rarely come up. Neither one of them mention the Gallaghers or Chicago really, for that matter. They both silently agreed to leave it behind them.

‘Come to the wedding.’ Ian blurts out. It slams Mickey right back into reality harshly and he almost falls out of his seat, his beer spilling everywhere. Ian looks at him uncomfortably, painstakingly waiting for a response. Neither man moves to grab a napkin.

Is he about to vomit? Are they both about to vomit?

‘What?’ He mutters, Mickey must’ve heard him wrong cause there’s no fuckin’ chance he just asked him to-

‘Come with me to the wedding.’ Ian breathes, offering a hand out on the table. ‘I can have a plus one, I mean it’s Fiona.’ He shrugs self consciously.

Mickey can’t actually believe the words coming out of Ian’s mouth right now. He just told Mickey that he’s on his meds right now, his mania should be under control, did he fucking lie?

He must be on crack, he’s drunk, he’s high out of his fucking mind. That’s the only explanation.

‘Are you-’ Mickey starts, but Ian stops him with a protesting hand. Mickey swallows hard, what the fuck is going on?, ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Hear me out, I know it sounds fuckin’ insane.’ He levels, his eyes pleading and is face so fucking earnest and open.

‘Yeah, it fucking does.’ Mickey says incredulously, really hoping that Ian his catching his clear message of what the FUCK.

‘It’s been years, Mick.’ Ian presses, ‘I’m sure everyone would be surprised- love to see you.’ He corrects himself.

Mickey literally has to hold himself back from laughing in Ian’s face, he barely succeeds and he knows his face must be a picture of absolute surprise. He takes a moment and regroups himself, all the humour gone. He knows why they'd be surprised to see him.

‘Years because I was in fuckin’ prison and none of those bastards came to see me.’ He bites, and Ian looks like he’s been slapped.

‘Mickey…’

‘Your family fuckin’ hated me.’ He states plainly, and it’s true, he knows they weren’t his number one fans. In their defence, Mickey found them fucking annoying too. ‘I ain’t wasting my time in a place where I ain’t wanted.’

‘That’s a lie!’ Ian protests, ‘Carl has always liked you, Debbie too, I know Lip can be a dick- and Liam you have to see Liam-’

‘You’re crazy.’ Mickey mutters in disbelief, but Ian holds up a hand in protest. The idea of being thrown back into that... It makes him feel sick.

‘I want you there.’ Ian admits, and it hangs there heavily as he tries to gage Mickey’s reaction. Mickey’s heart pounds inside his chest and he feels like he might vomit on the table between them. ‘I just want to spend some time with you Mick, it’s been…’

‘I want you there.’ Ian repeats, holding his uncomfortable gaze and Mickey really thinks he’s going to vomit this time.

‘You don’t owe me anything, Gallagher.’ He bites back stiffly, attempting to swallow down the lump that’s building slowly in his throat. His hands start to slightly shake and he wraps them around his empty glass to steady them. Ian’s eyes catch onto the quick movement. ‘And I sure as hell don’t owe nothin’ to you.’

This is too much, this is all too much.

‘I want you there.’ Ian says for a third time, his fingers coming to rest hesitantly on top of Mickey’s hands and Mickey surprises himself by not instantly pulling away. The touch blazes like fire, sending sparks through his hand and up his arm.

‘Heard you the fuckin’ first time.’ Mickey mutters, ‘Like a goddamn broken record.’

His gaze shifts down and fixes on their point of contact. Ian’s slim fingers lightly tracing the dark angry ink on his knuckles. He can feel his resolve chipping away, years and years of shutting everything out comes falling to the floor, like his heart is a fucking piñata. He always found it difficult to say no to Ian, even when he was a closeted asshole kid it didn’t come as easy as it must’ve seemed. Even in the most terrifying moment of his life, when Ian asked him to put everything on the line and jump quite literally headfirst out of the closet, he couldn’t say no.

‘Mickey.’

‘I, I just don’t know, okay?’ He pulls his hand away and pinches the bridge of his nose. He really should fucking run, go back to his apartment and book a flight to somewhere fucking far away. His breath hitches. ‘It’s been nine fuckin’ years, I can’t just…’

‘I know.’ Ian breathes, ‘and that’s why I want you there.’ Mickey looks up at him and his eyes are sad, his eyes are so so beautifully sad. ‘Please give me the chance to make it up to you.’

The brick fortress around his heart crumbles around him and comes tumbling to the floor.

‘When is it?’ He sighs, exasperated, and Ian’s eyes light up in disbelief, like he’s just handed the guy a million bucks.

‘Tuesday.’ Ian answers, grinning that same fucking smile. His fist bumps the air playfully, and Mickey’s heart clenches because he looks so young.

‘Tuesday? Tuesday like two days from now?’ Mickey says, scowling and he cannot actually believe he is buying into this shit. ‘You are giving me two days to prepare to see your fuckin’ family? I’m gonna need at least another five years.’ And he’s being 100% serious.

Ian laughs and something warm in Mickey stirs. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

‘It’s gonna be fine.’ Ian says, ‘once they get over the shock of seeing you again.’ He takes a swig of his piss beer and grins at Mickey from over the bottle.

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey says, but there’s zero bite behind it. It's casual and warm, like the old days. He flips him off, ‘I’m gonna get so fucking drunk.’

‘What else is there to do at a wedding?’ Ian says breathlessly, ‘You’re gonna get to meet all the kids!’

‘Whoop di fuckin’ do.’ Mickey sing-songs unenthusiastically, raising his eyebrows at the other man. ‘You’re supposed to be sellin’ this shit to me Gallagher, not makin’ me want to run for the hills.’

Ian laughs, throwing his head back which exposes his pale neck and Mickey gulps. The amount of kisses he has pressed into that very skin, he knows the exact point that drives Ian crazy. They used to spend hours just going at it, Mickey going to town on his neck, licking and biting. His hand comes down to shift himself uncomfortably in his pants as his crotch responds like an inexperienced teenage boy. He can’t fucking believe this is happening.

‘Fiona won’t mind?’ He asks, trying unsuccessfully to shift his focus away from the blood stirring in his groin. Thinking about Fiona Gallagher should definitely make him go soft. It works.

‘Nah’ Ian dismisses easily, ‘I’ll tell her beforehand, so there are no surprises.’

‘Good.’ Mickey finds himself saying, the last thing he wants to be is an unwanted surprise - much like the ones the Gallaghers have apparently been racking up. They find themselves, for the first time since they bumped into each other earlier, in a comfortable silence which neither one of them know what to do with.

‘I’ve missed you.’ Ian admits again, just as Mickey is about to open his mouth to say how he should go get more beer. He tenses, pressing his back into the booth. ‘I- I know I don’t get to say that.’

‘You don’t.’ Mickey mutters, his fingers reaching down to trace the seam of the booth’s fabric. Ian winces, but nods sadly.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ian whispers, ‘I-’

‘Ian.’ Mickey says firmly, and he takes a deep breath, he feels like he’s on the edge of a cliffside about to jump, ‘I’ve missed you too.’

They hold each other’s gaze. Now that’s out in the open. It’s heavy, daunting and too much to handle. His breath hitches and he feels like he could scream. Or cry. Or both.

‘I should go.’ Mickey says, cutting off their eye contact by moving to shift out from their table. Ian’s shoulders drop down.

‘Yeah.’ He says, bringing his hands down to wipe his palms on his thighs.

Is that disappointment Mickey can sense in his voice? Is Ian allowed to be disappointed?

Ian pulls himself out of his seat to meet Mickey standing, making them much closer now than they had been with the table between them. Without that safety distance, Mickey can smell his cologne, it’s not too strong and smells delicious. Mickey wants to bury his face into it.

Fuck.

‘Thanks.’ Ian says, awkwardly bringing up an unsure hand before deciding to place it on Mickey’s shoulder.

‘Yeah, whatever.’ Mickey says as he shakes it off, unable to deal with the closeness right now. ‘Text me the wedding details, if you still want me there.’ He waves his hand dismissively, unable to look Ian in the eye. His throat constricts at the thought of Ian changing his mind on him, again , and Mickey needs to get out of there before he really does scream.

‘Yeah, Mick.’ Ian breathes, ‘I do.’

Mickey nods, and steps backwards, ‘I’ll see you then, I guess.’ He says awkwardly, turning away quickly before Ian can respond. He walks straight out of the bar, onto the sidewalk and right around the block before he doubles over, attempting to get his wrecked breathing under control. He feels like he just ran a marathon or hiked up fucking Everest.

His breath comes out in shaky stutters, his chest hurts. He just wants to go to sleep, or drink, or find some twink to fuck. Anything to get his fucking mind off of the last hour’s conversation. He spits onto the sidewalk then leans his full weight against the brick wall as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

A shaky hand brings it to his lips, and he breathes it in.

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fic #shameless fic

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lockdownuk · 4 years

Text

Lockdown Diary Part 4

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day91: I can’t post photos to the sister photo diary and it’s fucking me off. Using this as a place holder- last successful pic was 21/06/2020.

Day 92: Still awaiting Tumblr re: day 91′s entry. Meanwhile looking at other blog/diary sites. Very warm today, like it was throughout May. Boris announced a further relaxation in lockdown measures which includes reducing the 2m distancing instruction which paves the way for pubs, restaurants and other places to open on 4th . It looks like the Ship will open 6th July, George on the 4th. I await to see the measures put in place before deciding whther it’s a goer.

Day93: Typing on day 94 - I received an email from Deryn from RCI HR concerning placement online module attendance, thanking me for my participation. I was somewhat confused. Was this a mistake or was I erroneously not icluded in the initial communications? I fired off an email to HR and WhatsApp’d Jim. He replied that I should take it up with HR.

I am worried by this. Furlough ends this week and I know not what the fuck is going on.

Day 94: Had a few beers last night, ‘cos I was feeling deflated over work. Finished Homecoming S2, which was very good, and cancelled Amazon Prime before the free trial ends tomorrow. Got up @midday but haven’t done jack shit today as my right ankle is playing up - it was twinging last night - apart from press ups. No word back from RCI but there was a notification that the email from Deryn was attempted to be recalled. Had a spat in Co-Op wth two lads who were ignoring the one way system and social-distancing. It makes my blood boil and I had to say something which ended up making my blood boil even more…especially as one of them asked me to ‘crack on’. It’s a pretty cool response actually, since I had them bang to rights but, at the time, I thought I was going to bust a blood vessel. I walked away having told him to not speak to me like that again and that he was a fucking arsehole! Didn’t make me feel any better though. Fog’s chatting later so I’m going to have a few beers right now (just gone 8pm) - I feel like throwing caution to the wind for some reason (probably work more than anything else).

Day 95: Typing on Day 96. I had a lot of beers with Fog the night before last and felt like shit all day yesterday. Still managed to drag myself up to Foggy’s and have socially distanced beers in his garden with Noel and Lord Irish of Michael.

Day 96: Feeling like shit. Third day of no walking ‘cos my ankle is a little sore although I did walk back from Foggy’s last night.

Day 97: Two walks and my usual stair climb today. Felt good to get back to routine. Plus, no booze yesterday, even tho’ it was a Saturday, feel better for it. I heard from Sue Cockings from HR on Friday, btw, still furloughed until further notice.

Day 98: I discovered, yesterday, that today is actually day 99 of lockdown since it actually begun on the Sunday evening that Boris Johnson announced the measures being in place - I mistakenly thought it began on the Monday. Tumblr still haven’t got back to me regarding reviewing why this blog is deemed ‘sensitive’ and I can’t add any more pics. While I am typing, Northampton are beating Exeter 0-2 at Wembley in the L2 play-off final. It’s funny that their fans can’t be there to see it. Football, in general, on its return after lockdown, without fans in attendance, is shit - like watching women’s football - too many empty seats.

Day 100: I have decided to number the days correctly (See prev’ entry). It’s a good time as I had to export , delete and recreate this blog on Tumblr since they have been non-forthcoming in my request for info as to why they deemed it ‘sensitive’. So, this is a restart, altrough seemless to the reader. On top of all that, I am writing this on Day 101! After restarting the blog diary I forgot to add the day’s entry! Bumped into Roger on my second walk, at the top of Basset Ford Place. We chatted for an hour or so. It was really good to see him and talk. We’ve made a promise to interact more...it seems both he and I allow ourselves to get down in the dumps (easy in self-isolation) and, as such, we shall try to reach out as and when. He suggested a walk together every now and then.

Day 101: I heard back from a charitable services company that Barry Haddon (who, coincidentally, I spoke with today) told me about (Auriga)and answered their email questions. BNarry rates them and told me they got him some decent results like he no longer has to pay Council Tax. I tweeted Chris Hawkes on Radio 6 this morning...he was asking for examples of sames names (’cos he had Dave Gorman on) so I told him about The Redlion and the ad the ‘other’ Tim put in the ET. He read it out! I created a photo album of 101 pics I’ve taken in lockdown and put it on FB including the Oundle Chatter group. The comments were great. My right eyesight is worrying, I cannot make out close up detail i.e. reading is blurred. I am going to start doing 10 press ups after each exercise i.e. three times a day. I decided that during my second walk so today I’ve done 20. Lastly, I have new neighbours I do believe. Hmmm.

Day 102: Emailed dad and Rita to have a rant about what dad thought of the Leicester lockdown and to share a link to my 101 photo album. Had a long Messenger chat with Rog.

Day 103: Typing this on day 104. Dad called when I was out ona walk so we skyped when I got back. He looks really well! Advided me on how to cutt some branches that are hanging low (I asked him in the email yesterday). I then borrowed a saw, secateurs and green bin from Karen. I walked a long way today. My second walk was 9km.I then had loads of beers! The Co-Op car park seems to be the venue for youngsters to hang out. I was gone 2am before they finished partying. I (re)watched Steve Jobs. Wow....just wow. What a film and what a man!

Day 104: It was gone 1:30pm when I got up feeling the worse for wear. A chilli, chorizo and cheese omelette really sorted me out but no beer tonight. How my Saturday frame of mind has changed from just a few years ago. Elliot and Camilla dropped off a jar of japaenos (that Mil had WhatsApp’d me about) and, among other things, we chatted about a photo Tracie Garrett circulated featuring Ell, me her and a few others who met up to have a drink at The Haycock for Ron Gambling. In it was Cath and someone called Ross (who I don’t remember) who have both passed since the pic (July ‘99). I feel strangely saddened by it all. The pic itself is such a reminder of days past - it conjours up shit loads of different feelings.

Day 105: A few beers again last night so another late one (5ish) but up before noon. Finished watching a series called Condor. Pretty good - bit of a messy ending that is the norm with telly nowadays in that it is a little bit of a cliffhanger.

Day 106: The Ship reopened today. I left a nice message on the Virtual Pub group page wishing them the best plus said thanks to Rach. I think it will be the end of the laugh we’ve had on the virtual site now. I expect to go through a bit of a miserabel time with people now venturing out down the pubs.We were once all united in lockdown - that will no longer be the case. Met Rog for a walk - did over 7km oncluding through Barnwell Picnic Park - I don’t remember it being that pretty. defo going to go there again. Got an email from RCI asking for all furlough workers to join a Zoom meeting tomorrow with Paul (MD) and Deryn (HR). Ominous! Went shopping in Asda and Farm Foods. £100 with NO BOOZE!

Day 107: The zoom call today didn’t tell me much other than we are being furloughed still, until further notice. It was susggested that we have a zoom meeting every 2 weeks and that RCI recognise we’ve be left out in the cold somewhat. I appreciate that very much.There were 30 of us on the call plus Paul and Deryn were in the office since they had to make peopel redundant today. Mark was in the office earlier to take receivership of the IT kits from those that left.

Day 108: I am well on the way to doing 1,000,000 steps in theree months (July, August & September) but at what cost. I’ve done well over 11,000 steps each day in July (actually, a lot of days in June as well) apart from one (8k) and I am feeling it. My right leg/ankle is sore! Day 109: I had another mention by Chris Hawkins on Radio 6. He asked for Brian May moments - apparently when he met Brian May he was so starstruck that all he could say was ‘thank you for the music’. I tweeted my story of telling Felicity Kendall to have a good life. Today, both my walks have resulted in me getting fucking soaked. Hanna S2 is on Amazon Prime. Time for yet another free trial (number 4 or 5).

Day 110: I have walked 144,448 steps in 10 days, well on the way to a million steps in three months. The Heist of the Century - an Argentinian film based on true events - watched it last night (well, over two nights, actually). A real life Ocean’s Eleven (but with 6). Brilliant film, brilliat story. I had issues signing up to another Amazon Prime free trial last night so I set up another gmail a/c just now and I think I’m in. I used Danny’s Gmail (which I created over 15 years ago!) and it didn’t like it - I think I must have used it before. I reckon I have probably had loads more free trials than I care to remember. Anyway, off to watch me some Hanna!

Day 111: Very tired as I type. Bed at around 5am, up at 13:30, normal exercises, cleaning kitchen cupbaords and I’m done in. It’s 10:30pm now, just cracked open a beer and about to watch a new Netflix film “The Old Guard”. I would continue with Hanna but Amazon Prime keeps fucking erroring. I will try to go to bed before it gets light (which seems to be my w/e norm nowadays!

Day 112: I have got into the habit of eating dinner far too late. It’s 10:30pm as I type and I am just about to have something eat. I’m not sure why I feel it’s wrong to eat so late but I do, I shall be trying to address it. Late night again last night (gone 4:30am) so today was a lazy day. Only on ewalk but it was 10km and I get up the above 11,000 steps needed for the 1m challenge. My stair climb, at around 9pm, fucking killed.

Day 113: Boring Monday.

Finished watching The Old Guard on Netflix. A Highlander-esque affair with Charlize Theron kicking ass like she did in Atomic Blonde. It was OK. Haven’t manage to lick the late night eating. It’s 10:05pm and tea’s still cooking.

Day 114: I have been looking at planning persmissions on the ENDC site for questions posed on the Oundle Chatter group on FB. There’s going to be two sites with 130 new houses on each and it’s causing concern. And so it should - the planning docs are very revealing. Objections are dismissed in such an off-hand way. It’s really quite insulting. I was awfully down today, during my first walk. I mean, really despondant (too difficult to describe here), which is a lower version of the norm - it’s been a good couple of weeks since anyone’s even asked how I am! A week since that post on my main blog. But, I powered through and am back to the usual depth! I ate at @9:30 pm tonight. Told ya!

Day 115: I am typing this on Day 116 - I ended up hainga couple of beers last night and forgot to post. I had the most ridiculous toing and froing on FB and Messenger with Rachel (Harris) - it was piss funny. She is the first person in days, actually weeks, who has asked how I am! I watched ep3 of Hanna S2. Absolutely superb. She kills Marissa! Did not see that fucker coming...mind blown! Day 116: I have finally finished the thorough clean of the kitchen. Fucking drama. I am typing at just gone 10pm, about to eat (curry I made yesterday). It’s been a strange day, timings wise, last night’s drinking meant I wasn’t up until just gone noon which obviously didn’t help. I had a call from DSM group - I applied for an IT tech role, they want to see me tomorrow (Friday) for an interview (in Sibson). Interesting! (Although the contact, Helen, hasn’t sent the promised email!)

Day 117: Despite not getting a confirmation email, I attended the interview at DSM. It went OK (I was there for 90 mins). I went booze shopping in Tesco’s afterwards. Spoke to dad today also - he and Rita are well, as usual! I am feeling really knackered and achy today. I do hope it’s not anything to worry about.

Day 118: Up at 1pm. 9.79 km walk. Cooking meatballs, drinking beer, listening to The Blaze about to watch Deepwater Horizon. All good today!

Day 119: Similar to yesterday, up late, bloody long walk, watching Saving Private Ryan (which I started last night).

Day 120: Typing on day 121. Received an email from someone that works at the BBC for Shaun Keaveny’s show - they want me to do small claims court on August 5th. I’m becoming obsessed with getting my steps in - my second walk was extended to round Barnwell Country Park - over 17.5k steps - not the most I’ve done in one day but, for example, most in one day last month (June) was 14.7k. More importantly, I am finding that I can walk further (and for longer) and not have a hypo; not a great deal further, but over an hour.

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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thadelightfulone · 5 years

Text

The Firm - Chapter 7

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: Erik has been hired to find an embezzler for an old friend. Now, the investigation begins.

Pairing: Erik x Black!OC

Genre: Suspense

Words: 7K

--- 4 Years Earlier ---

Matt enters the warehouse, not knowing what to expect. He received a phone call earlier that afternoon at his office about an opportunity to earn more money from his job. It sounded official even though he knew the voice wasn't Mr. Green. He had heard around the office that Green had pet projects that he would invite people to join from time to time. He finally had the chance to move up in the office, and he wasn't going to turn it down.

He looks around and sees a desk in the middle of the warehouse floor. The person at the desk has their back turned to him and is flanked by two big built men. Must be the guards. Wait…why are guards at this meeting? Am I the only one here? He glances at his watch. He was right on time. He approaches one of the chairs in front of the desk. One of the men walks forward asking him to raise his arms. I am getting frisked, what the hell? The guy nods to his partner who looks at the person in the chair behind the desk.

“Have a seat, Matthew. We should talk.” Matt sits in the chair with his hands on his knees to keep his legs from shaking. The chair spins around. “How would you like to work for me?”

“Uh, I thought this was a meeting with one of Green’s people for a special project.”

"Oh, it is a special project. Just not with Green. Although he is involved.” They stand to walk over in front of him. “So, are you interested or not?”

“I was told that I would get three times my yearly salary. Is that true?”

Shaking their head, “Money talks, I understand.” Sitting on the desk and pulling over a few sheets of paper, “Have a look.” Matt grabs the papers. “For the duration of this project, you will receive monthly paychecks that will equal three times your current salary with Greenbridge. Of course, that is on top of your salary from him as you will still be working there.”

Matthew has been working for GBI for five years and barely made senior funds manager. He had to jump through hoops just to get his supervisor to notice him and approve the promotion. This opportunity is coming at an excellent time for him. He plans to propose to his long-time girlfriend, Laura, and knowing her as he does, she will want nothing less than the finest and most expensive for her dream wedding.

“Wha-what do you want from me?” He puts the papers on the edge of the desk.

“What do you know about Green, Matt? Do you know why he started his business?”

“Uh, Green is married, no kids. And the company is about 10 years old, linked to his interests in giving back to the community. He loves helping others and giving away money.”

“Really? So, why did it take you so long to move up?”

"I never said he loved giving it to those who work for him. The companies he works with allow him the opportunity to give out money, which makes everyone look like saints, him included."

"Smart man," nodding, "You are perfect for this job." They stand up and move back behind the desk. “Let me lay this out for you, and then you can make your decision.” Sitting down and pressing a buzzer, “We’ve been watching you and have handpicked you for this assignment.”

The door to the warehouse opens and closes. And Matthew nearly breaks his neck turning around to find out who the mysterious person in front of him just let into the open space. “Aaron! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sit down, Matt, and let me tell you about your new job.” Aaron walks forward and takes the other available seat. “Aaron works for me. His job was to find me someone with position security at GBI to participate in a long-term,” twirling their hands with a lavish flair presenting the many diamonds lacing their fingers, “endeavor.”

"My position is still in a probationary period since I was promoted last year. I don't have this security that you speak of; I could be gone tomorrow if Green or someone else make that decision."

"Not true. I have put you in a position to be exactly where I need you to be." Opening the right desk drawer, the only sounds in the big warehouse are of a gun cocking before rising from behind the desk. A shot rings out, and the chair that Aaron was sitting in falls back to the ground, blood spreading around it.

“Oh my god, you shot him! Why?”

"Like I said, you are where I need you to be. At this point, Green or whoever handles HR will be searching for an immediate replacement for your Team Leader. Why not pick the person with the most seniority on the team?” nodding towards Matt.

“Sandi has more seniority than me.”

“But she is the newest analyst on your team. Listen to me, Matt. Aaron finally had you promoted for this reason. But he no longer serves a purpose for me in the grand scheme of things.”

Matt looks over at Aaron’s lifeless body. He worked with this man for the last three years and never figured him to be a plant. But now, it seems they want him to be the new inside man for whatever they were already working on. “I- I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You don’t have a choice, it’s either you get with the program or meet the same fate as Mr. Aaron here.” Standing up, Matt is pulled up from his seat. Linking arms, they walk to the front door where a town car is waiting. “Join me for dinner to celebrate your second promotion this year.”

The driver opens the door for them, and Matt looks at his new boss before climbing into the car.

Over dinner, Matt is given the specifics of his assignment. There is a particular fund that his team oversees, a scholarship fund from which his new boss would like him to embezzle funds. Since he will be chosen as the new team leader, he is in the position to manipulate the reports after receiving it from the analyst, transferring the money to accounts linked to his new boss. He will make sure that the trail, should anyone discover the fraud, leads to the analyst in charge of that account’s maintenance.

--- 6 months later ---

Matt is sitting in a bar, at a booth in the back with a direct view of the front. He sees the goons before his boss walking in from a back entrance.

“What was so urgent, you could not wait for my next call?”

“We have a problem.” The boss signals for him to continue, “Stacey is gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Raising a hand towards Matt and speaking to one of the bodyguards, “Get me a Scotch and Water, please.” He turns to leave and get the drink. “She is still on GBI’s payroll.”

“Yeah, but she is not in our department anymore. Green officially moved her out last week. She is now his executive assistant.” Matt looks down at his legs, running his hands over his thighs.

Scoffing, "Damnit, he liked her work on the project." The requested drink is set down on the table. "Thank you." Picking up the glass, and taking a sip, “Have they replaced her yet? We can work with HR.”

Matt looks up and shakes his head. “HR has started a search, but I don’t know much about it. Normally, I would be brought in because they are replacing a member of my team, but I know nothing. That is what is bothering me. Stacey was supposed to –"

“Yes, I know.” The boss cuts off Matt. “And now she isn't, and we have to find a new scapegoat. This new person will be taking over all the accounts that Stacey had, correct?"

Matt nods, “I think so, and I mean they are not changing tasks for any of the other team members, so I figured that they are leaving it alone."

Sipping a bit more and then placing the drink on the table, “Ok, then we wait for the replacement and get more information on them before going forward with moving the money.” Standing from the table, “Thank you for letting me know. I can see that you will not fail me in the long run." The boss leaves out the back, followed by the goons, and Matt grabs the drink to finish it off.

--- 3 Months Later ---

Nails tapping on the desk on top of an open manila folder, looking at pictures of the girl while waiting for the phone to pick up. “She is perfect. Her connection to them will bring the whole empire down.”

“Hello.”

“Yes Matthew, thanks for the information on the lovely Miss LaNyah Cole. I have found out what I needed to know. She is good to go. Start next week.” The caller hangs up as Matt looks at the burner phone. The boss just told him to start altering the weekly scholarship reconcile reports that LaNyah is in charge of, which means the boss made her the new fall guy. Matt throws the phone into his desk drawer, watching as the skittish woman in question walks past his door.

“LaNyah, just the person I need to see.” He stands and walks to his door, making sure he has her attention, ”I wanted to talk to you about the GBI scholarship, there have been some changes to how we will process the reports starting next week. Do you have a few minutes?”

She looks up at him over the binders in her hands, “Ummm, sure. Let me drop these off, and I will be right back. Say 5 minutes." He nods in agreement, and she continues to her office across the floor.

--- Two Days Later: Thursday Morning ---

Erik is in the office working on a list before his scheduled meeting with LaNyah at 9. She has spent the last two days working in the conference room, still uneasy about being in her office after her run-in with Matt. He clenches his fist, thinking about the irritating man he encountered. He set LaNyah up, and Erik wants to know why.

Staring at his list, he pulls the background file he has on LaNyah from his briefcase. He uncovered an incident that happened her junior year of college that Ashley never brought up during their conversation. But he knows that was what sent her to need Ashley’s help in the first place. No wonder, her circle is small, if you count having Ashley and Green around as her circle.

LaNyah has no further contact with her mother and is basically on her own because her father died when she was younger and she was their only child. This information is not something that Matt would know, but if he is working with someone, they may have figured it out. She is a single, black female. She is alone, and no one would miss her if she ended up in jail on embezzlement charges.

LaNyah has an accounting degree, which gives her knowledge on how to create those spreadsheets and reports. Her position allows her to keep a close eye on the accounts that hold the money before the checks are cut. She would be able to alter those at will and cover any tracks regarding the movement of funds to different accounts.

Her access to Green would make it seem like he is stealing from his own company. Her connection to him, which can be discovered based on his treatment of her and how she was hired, also makes it look like it is a job from higher up. No one is going to believe that this young woman who is basically an orphan got the bright idea to steal from her boss on her own. But her boss could steal and make it look like the orphan had all the means and opportunity to do it, and let her take the blame, especially if he uncovered it himself.

--- 15 Years Earlier ---

Stevens and Green noticed that their superior officer was absent from all the chaos surrounding them, finding Bridges after she was assaulted. They both tried their comm devices just to see if maybe he was out testing along with them. He did leave before the rest of the team, stating he had a phone call to make. Everyone figured it was something back home that drew his attention away from the current task. It is probable that he had Bridges give him a comm to test upon his return.

Lee, their team medic, called for assistance. Everyone was currently waiting for the medical team to arrive and for other officers to show up for the investigation they knew was coming. Green stayed by Bridges’ side as they waited and Stevens along with Daniels walked the property to see if they could find any tracks that don’t belong. As Stevens made his way back to the front of their quarters, he sees McCoy walking up looking clean and refreshed.

“Where were you, McCoy?” Stevens barked at him.

"Watch your tone with me, boy." McCoy hears the helicopter preparing to land nearby. “What the fuck happened here?”

“Bridges was attacked while we were out. We heard the commotion over our comms and got back here as soon as we could.” Daniels responded while Stevens just stared at McCoy. There was something that did not feel right about McCoy’s countenance as he stood before the two men.

“Yeah, Lee called the Medical Team and another CO since you were nowhere to be found.” Stevens walks toward the group getting out of the helicopter.

“I got this Stevens.” McCoy follows behind him, grabbing his shoulder.

Stevens shakes him off, glaring at him. “You don’t know anything about what happened.”

“I said I got this. Stand down, Stevens.” McCoy continues walking to the medics and greets the other COs who arrived with them.

--- 3 Days Later ---

Stevens and Green have been discreetly watching McCoy and his actions since the incident. Bridges was taken away and is recovering in a separate location. They may clear her to come back to her assignment, or they may send her home. She was unable to give any clues about her assailant but thanked her team for getting to her as soon as possible.

Word came down that they are sending another communications person in the meantime so as not to hold up their ongoing operation. They were supposed to start their current mission a day ago, but everything has been put on hold until their new team member arrives. Green and Stevens are sitting on their beds, after completing an afternoon run. Everyone else is tending to their own business with the extra free time on their hands. McCoy was acting like the ever-present and concerned CO, so he has been riding back and forth with the officers investigating the assault.

“He has a history of harassing his female officers.” Green pulls out a small notebook, looking over what he has written. “Isn’t he married with kids?”

“Yeah, but when has that ever stopped a man who travels overseas for months at a time?" Stevens responds. "He definitely perpetuates the whole' out of sight, out of mind' mentality that most servicemen abide by when out of the country."

Shaking his head, Green adds, “He worked with Bridges earlier in her career. It was before he was given command of this team.”

“So, there was truth to his comment about requesting her for his team.” Green nods as Stevens continues, “Are any of the complaints from his overseas missions?”

“No, all complaints were stateside, and all the women who have filed complaints never saw any time overseas.”

“How long ago did he take control of this team?”

Green looks at his notes, “About 18 months before we came on.”

"Sounds about right. He would have had to prove himself worthy of being able to pick his team. A year of successful short-term operations would be enough."

“Son of a bitch!” Green shouts, “He planned this all along.” Stevens nods as Green puts it together. “He kept tabs on her so that he would be able to bring her overseas and do whatever he pleased, and no one would be the wiser.”

“Correct, our wonderful CO is a true fucking predator. Although, not that smart.”

“Why do you say that?”

Stevens stands and stretches, "He did not realize that people would be watching his interactions with her. He is used to a team that only does their job and leaves everyone behind. I’ll admit, that is what I am known for, but something about what we saw when we introduced ourselves to her; it rubbed me the wrong way. Especially when I noticed there was no other female on the team.” He walks over to a table near the door. “And he was stupid enough to insert himself into the investigation when he was not around in the first place."

“You really think –“

“That he has been planning the perfect attack on someone he has wanted for so long? Yes.” Twirling the pen attached to the clipboard on the table. “He moved further along in his predatory behavior because he figures no one would care.”

Green looks down at his notebook. “Predatory behavior? Takes one to know one. No offense.”

"None taken. I know my reputation proceeds me. So yeah, I can clearly see how he set this up for his benefit." He turns to look at Green, who is now looking at him from across the room. "This was probably his first time putting it into action." His eyes darken as his voice grows deeper, "And it will be his last."

Shaking his head, Erik stops his recorder and puts everything pertaining to his investigation in his briefcase. As he locks it up, he hears the elevator chime. LaNyah has arrived for the day and their meeting. He looks at her, wondering if he bit off more than he could chew. Being a private investigator is one thing, but he has never been someone’s personal bodyguard before. Yes, it is clear that she needs someone looking out for her in Green & Bridges’ absence. But if Matt is not working alone, then that means someone might just come after her, especially if they figure out that she knows about the embezzlement.

How is he supposed to find the real embezzler and protect her at the same time? Is it possible to keep her out of harm’s way as he closes in on the person behind this attack on Green? He hasn’t felt the need to protect someone like this since Bridges. Sighing and running his hands along his dreads, but he also didn’t find himself attracted to her either. LaNyah is an altogether different story, and he doesn't have the time to sort it out.

Jumping up from his desk, he walks into the conference room from his office where LaNyah is putting down her stuff for the day.

"Good morning, Erik," LaNyah smiles up at him.

"Morning. Can I get you anything before we start our meeting?" Erik asks, crossing over to the outer door of the conference room.

“I’ll take lemon tea with some honey. Thanks.” She goes back to setting up her workspace and pulling out her notes for their meeting.

“Sure thing.” Erik walks out of the conference room, greeting Stacey on his way to the coffee bar. “Hey Stacey!”

"Good morning, Romeo." She giggles and points to the machine, "You need some help?"

“For one, I need you to stop that.” He looks over to where LaNyah is, “She may hear you. And two, I think I can handle making a cup of tea.” He stares at the machine, looks over to his right at the tea packets, then back to the machine. “Is this thing on?”

“Seriously?” She gets up and walks over to him. “You see the menu on the screen?” She points to the LCD screen on the top right of the machine, and Erik nods, “The fact that you see it means it is on.” She shoves him with her shoulder, “And I know you know I turn it on each morning, you ain’t slick.” She moves about showing him how to make tea using the machine since he has only ever used it for coffee. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Stacey looks at him then at LaNyah, she looks down at him like he’s small. She hovers over the teas, glaring at him.

“Try again.” He waves her off and grabs the lemon packet. Stacey adds it the container and closes the lid; it starts brewing. She looks over at him like she is waiting for his real answer.

"It's nothing that I can't handle, ok." They both turn to the machine as it dings, indicating that the cup of tea is done. He picks up the cup, "Thanks, Stacey." Grabbing some packets of honey, he walks away.

"Any time, you are ready to share. I am here." She watches him shake his head as he reaches the door; she fixes herself a cup and returns to her desk.

Erik enters the conference room, and places her tea on the table, "Here you go. I'm gonna get my notes, and we can start." He drops the honey and a spoon next to it before heading back into the office.

LaNyah picks up a honey packet and squeezes it into her cup, “Thank you, Erik.”

He reaches his desk and takes a few deep breaths. Feeling a bit more settled, he grabs his meeting folder and his coffee before walking back into the conference room.

Sitting down to start the meeting, they exchange polite pleasantries. LaNyah brought in some folders and opened the conference room laptop for her update on what she had been working on over the last two days. LaNyah shares her updates on the account activity since she noticed the funds disappearing. Concluding her portion of the meeting, she mentioned that they still needed to get the reports from her office per his request from earlier in the week.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” LaNyah looks towards him, “Well, more about working here in the conference room.” He watches as her eyes grow big and then she looks down at the table.

"I'm sorry I will go back tomorrow. I just needed –"

“No, no, that’s not what I – Ok, let me try this again.” He waits until she finally looks his way, “I just wanted to gauge how you were feeling about going back to your office. You can work in here for the whole assignment if it makes you more comfortable.” He sees a soft smile emerge.

"Thank you, Erik. I just want to take it a day at a time."

“And that is fine with me, I understand. But I was hoping that you might wait a week before returning.”

She scrunches her face in confusion, “What, why?”

“I want to work out of your office next week. You have a prime spot to watch the floor from your office. I was hoping to complete some of my tasks from there if that is ok with you?"

“Oh, uh, I guess if you want. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Great, and I can look over the original reports while I am down there. So, we won’t have to bring them back up here.”

“Works for me.” She sits down as Erik stands to share his preliminary findings.

"I wanted to start by letting you know how much I appreciate your help in this investigation. Your clear and concise reports including all the details of the accounts that hold and distribute the scholarship checks; it has all been instrumental as I figure out the angle I need to conduct my part of the investigation.”

LaNyah blushes at the praise. No one besides Mr. Green and Ashley have been on her side and shared in her personal triumphs. So, to have someone who doesn’t know her comment on her work ethic from a professional standpoint is new. It’s a pleasant feeling to know someone trusts her to do what is asked of her. Even Matt is kind of an asshole about it. She starts twirling one of her colored pens so that she doesn’t have to look at Erik.

He is watching her reactions to his praise. She is not used to that kind of attention. She isn’t looking at him anymore. He softly chuckles, observing how she decided to keep herself present but not under his intense stare. He rolls his eyes and picks up his notes; he's gonna have to be more aware of how he looks at her. He is aware of how he can appear to others, and he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable when they need to work together — just another thing to add on his list when it comes to LaNyah.

Erik begins by going over how he wants her to deep dive between her originals and the live reports in the system. Nyah is writing in her notebook, making notes of things that she should look further into for the accounts and any current activity on them. They have not been stopped just yet.

"It has not been decided, but Green may freeze activity on the accounts linked to that scholarship fund. I figure the reason he hasn't yet has to do with the fact that it will tip off whoever is involved here in the office." Erik continues speaking as LaNyah starts drawing swirls along the perimeter of the page she was writing on.

She misses his last statement and shakes her head when she looks down and sees that she did not write what he said. Oh no, this is not good. She raises her hand, which causes Erik to grin as he addresses her. “Could you repeat that last part?”

"Sure thing, after freezing the funds?" LaNyah nods her head, he backtracks, "I said that Green knows this goes above you simply because the account reports that you reconcile are reviewed after you complete the data entry." Nyah starts writing again as Erik moves forward with the rest of his thoughts on where he must focus the investigation.

Nyah puts her pen down and looks at Erik, who is still talking. His lips are moving, but she is not hearing the words, just this soothing vibration and humming that she recognizes from when she is trying to reach a place of calm and relaxation from intense moments. If she isn't careful, she could fall asleep listening to him. She takes a sip of her tea to clear her head, inhales and exhales quickly before picking up the pen, and tries to focus on what Erik is saying.

Erik briefly discusses his intent to investigate the entire accounting department, but the main focus is on her team since the fund in question is under their purview. He mentions that he will have to have a one-on-one conversation with her to make it official, and Nyah only nods her head in understanding but has not heard a word due to the calm tone of his voice. Nyah’s mind drifts as she keeps her eyes on him -

Looking out across the park on a warm summer day, LaNyah is sitting on her favorite blanket under a tree in her favorite park. She watches the families and pets run around having fun in the sun. Red glasses on with a matching jumper, she leans back on the tree with her legs crossed. She reaches over to pick up her book when she notices someone walking over to her. She smiles when she focuses on Erik making his way over with a picnic basket. He is dressed in a black tank that shows off his solid build and some black shorts.

He gives her a peck on the cheek before setting everything down and getting comfortable on the blanket. He sits across from LaNyah, and together they clear the basket. It is filled with some of her favorites - chicken salad sandwiches, tortilla chips w/ guacamole and salsa, chocolate chip cookies, some raspberry ice tea and water to drink. Looking at their spread, Nyah fixes a plate for Erik who smiles at her letting his deep dimples show along with some gold-capped teeth. She jumps at the sight.

Erik has been waving his hand in front of LaNyah’s face for the last few minutes. When she didn’t respond to his question, he noticed her gaze flicker before her eyes closed. She was so zoned out that she had him worried. He walked out of the office, "Stacey, could you come here for a moment?”

Stacey walks over, "What's up?" She looks over at LaNyah, who is sitting up straight in the chair with her eyes closed. “Did you hypnotize her?”

He glares at her, “No. I was in the middle of my report and asked a question. When she didn’t respond, I looked up as her eyes shut.” Stacey moves in front of LaNyah and snaps her fingers. No response. “I have called her name and waved my hand, but nothing. What should we do?”

They stand there watching her when suddenly her eyes start fluttering and then she jumped back in her seat. When Nyah finally looked up, she noticed both Stacey and Erik watching her with concerned faces.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you, Erik.”

"It's all good. I'm just glad it wasn't something else." LaNyah looks down ashamed by her actions. "Hey, it's ok, LaNyah. It happens to everyone."

Stacey observes how Nyah is not making any eye contact with Erik, but there is a slight flush to her face. She puts her hand on her shoulder. "I should have warned you. He is a typical boring boss man. The kind that makes it easy to be bored to death in a meeting." LaNyah laughs along with Stacey and Erik but still does not look up at them.

“Alright, and on that note. I think we can end this meeting today.” He grabs his notes and coffee, waving to the table, “It’s all yours.” LaNyah just nods and moves the laptop in front of her blocking Erik’s view of her.

Stacey follows him out of the conference as he makes his way back to the office. He sets his things down, and she sits down, trying not to laugh. "I mean this is the nicest way possible." Erik looks up at her, "You are both dangerous and in danger."

“Ok, Miss Perceptive, what gives you that idea?” He sits behind the desk, giving Stacey his undivided attention.

"She was not asleep." The look he gives her lets her know, he knew that already. "My thoughts are that it was a daydream." He scratches his beard, "And it was probably about you."

“Now, I know you are buggin’.” Shaking his head and laughing.

“Am I, though?” She looks up at him and stands. She straightens up her skirt, “Send me your lunch order. I’ll take her with me and give you some time to yourself.”

She reaches the door, ready to open it, “Stacey,” she turns toward Erik. “Thank you.” He looks over at LaNyah in the conference room head in the laptop, just typing away.

“No problem. I got you both.” She walks out the door back to her desk.

Erik stands up and walks over to the window behind his desk. Looking at the bright sunny day overlooking downtown Irvine. He breathes out, "I don't need this right now."

--- In Sydney, Australia ---

Sitting in their hotel room after spending the day relaxing on a beach, Bridges is staring at Green from her spot on the couch. She was enjoying the great weather and the opportunity to not think about work and her caseload. Except thanks to this man, she has to think about one case in particular or rather a good friend. Who is she kidding, LaNyah is more like family than anything. Straddling the line between daughter and kid sister, the latter due to their age difference. But she has never connected with any of her clients like she did with LaNyah.

She wanted to be there for someone like others, which is how she fell into her current line of work as a PTSD/PTSS and extreme sexual assault counselor. She took on the worst of the worst; cases no other counselor wanted to touch for fear of not being able to handle it. Bridges thinks about the consequences of her own assault and how she wasn't able to continue working in the field of communications, her first love. However, she found that even though she couldn't do it any longer, it doesn't mean that she could not help others find new passions or continue to be able to work in their current occupations which they love.

When Ashley met LaNyah, she reminded her of herself. Just like how communication techniques breathed life into Ashley, she noticed that was numbers for LaNyah. Finding out that LaNyah was working on an Accounting degree when her last traumatic episode occurred, Ashley knew she wanted to help her get back to a point where she could enjoy the chance to work with what brought her comfort. LaNyah took a full year off from school to recover, but she did the work, and Ashley made it known that she would have the support that she needed to have a career in the field. It helps when your husband owns a company where a significant number of his employees maintain multiple business accounts with millions of dollars coming and going daily.

Green walks over to the couch and sits down next to Ashley. He puts her legs on his lap and starts rubbing her feet. He trails his fingertips up her legs, reaching her thighs, causing her to laugh. She suddenly sits up and pulls her legs under her. She leans forward mean-mugging him. He shakes his head at her and tries to reach for her again.

“Come on, Ash.” She is pouting and has her arms crossed over her chest. “You cannot still be mad about Stevens.” She scoffs and sits back against the couch. “Look, I was going to tell you,” lowering his voice, “when we got back home.”

“I heard that.” She takes a pillow and hits him over the head. “I cannot believe you would do this to her.” She looks down and shakes herself to keep calm. This whole thing has her wound up and going into Mama Bear mode. Something she hasn’t had to do since LaNyah left the program.

“Ashley, she will be fine." He grabs her hand, and she lets him. "You can't coddle her forever. She will need to adjust to changes, especially work-related ones." He rubs his hands over her one. “Just think if I want her to lead a team one day, or at least become a lead analyst where she oversees one or two people.” Ashley nods her head.

"I get that; you want her prepared to move up in the company." She smiles at him. He is guaranteeing her job security at GBI, and she knew that already, but it was nice to hear him say it and not just because Ashley presented it that way in the beginning. "But this has nothing to do with the workload and the job itself."

“Then what has you ready to bite my head off? The best man we know for the job is protecting her, and he happens to be a skilled investigator who can help uncover the other details of the embezzlement. She is covered, I promise you.”

She pulls her hand out of his hold, standing up and starts pacing the room. “It’s Erik.” She looks at him, throwing her hand up to stop him from interrupting her train of thought. Because of course, he wouldn't understand. "You have seen what he looks like, right?"

"What kind of question is that?" He rolls his eyes, and Ashley gawks at him. "Ok, the man is built like a brick house. He fits the typical tall, dark, and handsome trope. So what?"

“LaNyah.”

"What about her?" Green takes a moment before answering his question with a loud bark of laughter. "Oh, you can't be serious?" He continues to laugh as he looks at her.

“Stop laughing, and I am serious. This is her first adult crush, and I do not know how to handle it." Ashley frowns at him. She is worried about all the things happening around LaNyah being too much for her to deal with, even using her usual calming and grounding techniques. Her mind drifts back to her lunch date with Nyah, and when she discovered her little crush on him.

Green tries to catch his breath. “So, she has a crush on him.” He grabs his stomach. “It was bound to happen at some point. She is a beautiful young woman, and it is natural for her to have some form of attraction to another.” He slowly stands up and walks over to her. Wrapping his arms around her, “At least she has good taste in men.” She smacks at his arms.

“You sir, are an ass.”

"I'm your ass." He sways the two of them, "Besides, I don't think you have anything to worry about, Stacey seems more his speed. No harm, no foul."

Ashley turns around in his arms, “No harm, no foul? Do you know what you are saying right now? LaNyah has a crush on Erik. A crush that could grow, the more they work together, one on one.” Green shrugs as she continues, “If he ends up dealing with Stacey on a romantic level –,“ she lets her statement fall off, hoping he will catch her drift.

“And? They are all grown adults.” Ashley backs out of his arms, shaking her head.

“I don’t know why I even bother.” She walks onto the balcony for some fresh air. “Maybe because I know what it feels like to crush on someone and have it fall flat.” She turns around to face him as he stands at the open doors, “This is going to have an impact on her Alexander. Regardless of what happens, I am concerned for her safety, mentally and physically. That is my priority. You both protected me and the same way you did that for me, and I am going to do it for her. She has no one.”

“She has us. And well, now she has Erik too.” It doesn’t make Ashley feel any better, but he does have a point. He walks forward, “Look, we cannot control things like this. You of all people should know that.” He points between them.

She laughs, "Oh, you mean how you made it seem like Stevens was feeling me, and it was really you?"

“Aye, you don’t have to bring it up. I’m just saying you know feelings and situations can lead to some interesting outcomes.” Ashley grabs his hand and drags him onto the balcony. "She is in good hands. Erik is not that insensitive that he would take advantage or something."

“We haven’t seen him in over 15 years.” She stands beside him. “Last, we knew he was still very much a playboy.” She laughs, “Or a fuckboi, as some of my girls would say.”

"You haven't, but I have. Just like him, I’ve kept tabs on every team member. He was at your graduation. Still rocking a military cut, back then. But I doubt that he is the same, not the man who stood in front of me days ago.” He leans against the railing. “I am not worried about LaNyah because you have prepared her for dealing with anything and everything that comes her way, including men. This is just one of those things we have to let her deal with, ok.” Ashley nods and leans on his shoulder, “If she needs us or we see her crashing, you know we will be there to support her in any way she needs us.”

“You really think it’s time to let her go?”

He turns Ashley to him, “Hey, who said we have to let her go? I know how much she means to you, especially after all that we have been through together. You knew when we signed up to help her reintegrate after her stay, that we basically adopted her. I love her just as much as you do. I just know we cannot hold her back from growing into the woman we know she can be."

Ashley wraps her arms around Green, “I didn’t even deal with the diapers, terrible twos or teenage years, and now I have to let my child grow up.” Green chuckles as he pulls her into his chest. She inhales deeply, “LaNyah will be fine. Everyone who knows her loves her and those who don’t would be privileged to make her acquaintance.”

"That's right, baby girl.” He kisses her forehead, “Now, can we eat?" His stomach rumbles, and Ashley laughs.

Chapter 8

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#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #the firm #thadelightfulone

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clockworkmoose · 4 years

Text

The saga of this past week:

So a day or two after I put in my two-weeks notice in January (which turned into not-quitting-but-stepping-down-into-a-roll-where-I-only-work-when-I-choose-to-teaching-classes-and-nothing-else-if-I-don’t-want-to) Chaos employee got written up by my manager for unprofessional-ism and tardiness, and in retaliation/reaction, Chaos submitted an ADA request form along with a deposition from a court case that basically read that she was “average” in all tested mental aspects. Chaos felt this was sufficient proof to get an ADA accommodation to arrive late to her shifts and badmouth me, her manager, to customers and other employees.

HR disagreed.

HR put her on a week of leave to get the ACTUAL forms and doctor notes she needed for an ADA accommodation and to figure out what sort of accommodation she WOULD be getting (I had been giving her a 15 minute window to arrive late for 2 years, I was giving her a schedule a minimum of 4 weeks out in written, texted, and verbal format for 2 years... I don’t know what reasonable accommodation can be made for telling customers that your boss isn’t doing her job properly and that Chaos should be the boss instead.....)

Chaos decided that being asked to provide the legally required documents constituted discrimination and harassment, and quit (Dec. 20th or thereabouts). Put in her 2 weeks, HR said “no that’s okay, don’t come back to the store ever.”

For the rest of the week and a half of my time as manager, I had to pull up records (I keep VERY good records, I like paperwork, I am very good at paperwork is something I learned from this job) basically defending myself from accusations and lies that Chaos kept telling HR. We’re talking she sent 30 emails in 3 days level of crazy. Saying things like that I was stealing money from the customers. I was stealing commissions from my employees. I was favoring one employee over her in terms of scheduling (this was the exact opposite! I was favoring CHAOS LADY because she gave me no choice of when to schedule her except the exact timeblocks she picked, so everyone else had to get slotted around her!)

One of the last emails she sent on Friday (Dec. 31) was the one where she informed HR that I had been changing commission credit from other people to myself, stealing money from Chaos’s paycheck. I wasn’t supposed to see this email, but it was forwarded from HR to my manager, who showed me in a fit of “Oh my god, can you believe this? There is a VISIBLE TO ALL EMPLOYEES record of every change made in the commission report! She could check and see this isn’t true!”

In this email, Chaos strongly suggested to HR that I ought to be fired.

Side note: I never told Chaos that I put in my 2 weeks because she had her meltdown before I had a chance and frankly I didn’t want to at that point.

Saturday, I send out an email to our entire customer base (Chaos included) saying that the store is hiring for a new manager position.

I get a text from Chaos on Sunday morning all full of fake concern that I’ve been fired, saying that she did her best to go to bat for me, say that I was a good manager, and that I was the best for the job. I don’t reply.

On Monday she calls the store and is surprised I answer. I tell her that no, I’m not fired, I quit on my own terms, and am leaving on a good footing. Chaos is surprised, but says she’s happy I wasn’t fired. She sounds the opposite of happy. Later that day is when manager finalized the plan of me not quitting outright, but to work on my own terms. I keep my employee discount, I keep teaching classes I love, win win.

Now, Chaos’s stepmom is a customer with us. And Chaos must’ve told Stepmom that I’ve quit, because stepmom calls the store a little later on concerned that the class she signed up for will be canceled. I reassure her, no, I’m not quitting, I will still be teaching her class.

On Tuesday, New manager is in the store, her first day fully taking over the manager role. Phone rings, New manager answers it. Chaos is on the line, confused about her stepmom telling her I was still teaching. Didn’t I quit? New manager has been warned that Chaos is not to be calling the store, as per HR, she has to go through them. New manager DOES say that she can’t share information on any employees, past or present, and then that no, she can not tell Chaos when I am working next to schedule a conversation with me (something we do for customers) because I am not on the schedule for that.

On Wednesday, stepmom calls back again, worried AGAIN that I’ve been fired, having heard that I’m not on the schedule from Chaos. I reassure her that technically, I am not on the schedule, because I am not available to be scheduled for a “customer callback” with Chaos. I will be coming in, teaching my entire shift, and then leaving. No time for phone calls. I am still teaching her class, no worries, I have not been fired.

On Sunday, I go in, teach the class with Stepmom. Tell employee/coworker that I will see him on Monday (yesterday). Stepmom must have told Chaos I was going to be working on Monday. What I meant was “I will bring in these teddy bear googly eyes for you on Monday and then go shopping in a different town.” Coworker knew this as per prior conversations.

So Chaos went in to the store yesterday to see me. And was told that I “wasn’t working, was just dropping off some things for the store before I left town.”

So she called the store today, complaining that we were all lying to her about me being fired and skipping town in disgrace. To which new manager was like, what are you talking about, she’s still here, she’s still teaching classes every week this month???

And at this point, Chaos has literally no idea what my status is at the store, we are all accidentally unintentionally contradicting each other and also her own assumptions, and completely fucking with her without meaning to.

And I could call/text her and clear everything up, and when I heard that today it happened YET AGAIN I felt bad...

but after like 30 seconds the feeling passed and I did a nasty mean little giggle and went on with my day.

#r/pettyrevenge #work blogging #long post #i am a small bundle of glee and vindictiveness #and am almost getting my life back under control and ready to try socializing with other human beans again #moosemun

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prorevenge · 5 years

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Got my boss arrested for possessing child porn also resulted in CEO arrested for embezzlement.

I apologize for the long-windedness of this story. I'm not a writer, so I am just writing from memory and it got a bit longer than I had originally anticipated.

Almost 2 decades ago, I worked in the magazine publishing industry as an advertising and marketing manager. What this meant is that I sold advertising spaces in our line of various publications. You know those fancy clothing ads or product ads in between articles? Yeah those. And when you're good at it, you can make embarrassingly large stacks of cash. I was about 20 years old, making a very healthy $150K/year. So I thought I nailed a dream job.

My director, on the surface, seemed like the most awesome boss. He was charismatic, he knew how to lead. He was a retired Marine and was incredibly good at motivating his subordinates. He was friends with the actual Wolf of Wall Street, Jordan Belfort, and had him come in to our company to teach us how to close sales. And yes, I know how to "sell you this pen."

My director, we'll call him D, was in actuality one of the shadiest people I've ever met and his over confidence in his skills led to not only his downfall but also led to a huge scandal in the company resulting in multiple investigations including his arrest and the CEO's arrest on different charges.

I won't get into the backstory of how I started there or how I rose up the ranks under D. All you need to know is that he took me under his wing to train me as his protégé. D was known in the company to create advertising initiatives that would be insanely profitable. He would then move one of his subordinates into managerial role on that project so he would move on to the next initiative. What most people didn't realize was that his initiatives were only sustainable for maybe 2 to 3 years before they would start losing money. But because D was such a prominent figure in the company, the manager who took over the project would take the blame for it, citing "lack of proper management skills." So D was largely untouchable and never took the blame.

D put me in charge of one of those initiatives. But instead of losing money, I was able to sustain it for more than 7 years. This gave me a staff of 200 additional sales reps to oversee. I was also the supervisor, the graphic designer, IT, HR, and I had my own accounts to manage as well so I was working from 6am to 11pm 6 days a week. Not including my commute of 1 hour each direction in Los Angeles traffic. I knew I was working myself into an early grave.

One of the things I always thought was weird about how D managed his subordinates was that he required everyone to provide him with their PC login and password. Keep in mind this was the early 2000's and our IT was barely able to build a corporate network so this was our best way to monitor what people did on their PC's (or so I was told).

It turns out, after hours, D would log on to their PC's and would not just go through their company emails (it was against company policy to use Outlook for any non-company related communication. And this was audited by D weekly). He would also look through people's browsing history. He would set everyone's browsers to automatically save any passwords entered, so he'd read their browser emails (Yahoo, Gmail, etc.). His justification was that he was looking for any evidence of corporate espionage or violations of proprietary information.

One of the most irritating was that he required everyone to save their company Outlook .PST files (where emails are stored) to his network drive. This allowed him to monitor people's company emails from his own computer.

So when our team got so big, we had to hire our own accounting team. Because they fell under D's jurisdiction, he had access to their PST files as well (but our accounting team didn't know this). This allowed him to monitor a lot of financial communication between our parent company, and also predict where budgetary changes were being made.

D would use this to maximize how he strategized his next project initiatives. He clandestinely knew where the money was going to be before anyone else so he had time to come up with plans on how to get a bigger chunk of that cash. On the outside, his ability to do this seemed almost preternatural. But all he was doing was just reading confidential emails without anyone knowing. All accounting information was kept confidential just within the finance team, so they didn't know D was readily accessing this information. Like I said, our IT team was barely conscious.

D decided he wanted to take a 2 week vacation and left me in charge of monitoring duties. He showed me where the PST files were. Internally, I was utterly aghast at how much he was looking at our personal communications. But, I was young, naïve, and making a salary that most 20-somethings could only dream of so I thought this was normal corporate operations.

During D's vacation, one of our reps dropped a cigarette down a plastic drain pipe outside the office. Turns out he'd been doing that for weeks and the back up of cigarette butts eventually caught fire and it set off the smoke alarm in the building. We were forced to evacuate and close up shop for the day. Because I could work remotely, I copied all the PST's to my laptop and headed home. That's when I discovered something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

In my haste to copy the PST files, I inadvertently copied D's to my computer as well. Out of morbid curiosity, I figured what the hell, why not? So I started looking through his emails. At first, I found emails to another director, where he was disclosing how he was able to 'go where the money is.' Turns out, another director in another branch was also doing the same thing and they were joking about how they were able to make so much money and set up the manager they left behind to fail. They talked about how they would share this financial information with advertisers, other publishing firms, etc. to put themselves in strategically advantageous positions for prime accounts. In a nutshell, what they were doing was sharing corporate information without tacit approval from the legal team. I saw junior associates get taken to court over this.

I also saw emails from several female colleagues who were mysteriously "removed" from the company. Turns out, D had 9 sexual harassment claims against him from these female colleagues. But because he was so profitable to the company, the CEO turned a blind eye, settled them out of court and then moved D to a different team to avoid any negative perceptions. Many of these emails between D and these female colleagues was very explicit, and it was very clear his advances were unwanted. Lots of dick pics, lots of pics of D and his wife engaged in sexual activities hoping the female colleague would want to join in, etc.

D also had a folder called "New Accounts". By this point, my image of D was shattered. The guy I thought was a great mentor was just a sleazebag. So I looked into that folder, and found a massive collection of some of the most explicit child porn. My mind will be forever haunted by the filth that I found there. Even just thinking about it now makes me want to cry for the lost innocence of those poor children. So I wanted to sink this guy.

My thought process was this: If I straight up reported the CP, it would be obvious where the reporting came from since I was the only one who had access to his PST file. I didn't want to have a vindictive angry Marine breathing down my neck. So instead, I reported the accounting irregularities through our anonymous company hotline. This would trigger an immediate investigation which includes a thorough audit of a person's computer. Even though D had his laptop with him on his vacation, his desktop computer was still very much online at the office.

Accounting and legal took the investigation insanely seriously. Things moved so fast that I got a call from D the next day with a request. "I need you to write up two notes. One note says 'This is my two week notice.' and the second note says 'I tender my resignation effective immediately.' If the CEO asks about me, hand him which ever note you think is best."

He wanted to resign and collect a severance before the investigation concluded, knowing that the company would have to call the police when they found his CP stash. If he resigned before the investigation finished, chances are the company would just sweep it under the rug since the "problem is now gone." I never handed the note to the CEO. And the police were called. D was arrested. His wife was also arrested. His daughter, which turns out, was one of the kids in the stash, was taken in by another family member who completely cut themselves off from D.

An added bonus to this was that the subsequent accounting investigation led to a discovery. Turns out the CEO filed bankruptcy for one of the magazines to secure additional $15 million in funding. But instead of applying that money to the failing magazine, he pocketed $12 million of it and spent it on lavish homes in other countries. This led to the CEO also being arrested as well.

I left the company shortly after, realizing that the entire place was a toxic shithole of backstabbing and the kind of behavior that went on was actually the norm at this place.

Last I heard, D was still in jail, the CEO was penniless, and the entire company was sold off to another parent company because it had gotten so toxic to be associated with it.

TLDR: Boss did some shady accounting stuff and I discovered he had CP on his computer. Accounting stuff was reported and police got involved to arrest my boss. Further accounting anomalies led to discovering CEO was also doing shady stuff with money and he was arrested as well.

Addendum: Hey all, I've been reading some of the comments and thought I would add some additional insight and thoughts behind my post.

Yes this story is factual. While the identities of the company and those involved will remain private, for those who have worked in high pressure sales environments will know that people like D are not a rarity. It's the nature of the type of people that get hired for those kinds of roles. If you've ever seen the Wolf of Wall St, you'll know the kind of people that were hired at this publishing firm.

Yes I was making that much in my 20's. I had been in magazine publishing since my mid teens. In the 90s I started my own print publication in the whole import automotive racing scene. It started small, but did gain some notoriety in street racing circles and help caught the attention of some very worthy advertisers. Being bilingual in Japanese and English, this allowed me to expand my magazine's advertising reach overseas to Japan where the street racing scene was in full swing. I learned very early on how to do advertising, marketing, sales, and publishing. However, once that scene started dying down the magazine lost its appeal so I took a lot of my advertising accounts with me to the publishing firm where the above story took place. Many advertisers are loyal to the sales rep and not the client.

The event of the story took place around 2008. While I had a team of 200 sales reps under me, most of their PST files were relatively small since most of their work was via phone sales. This company was incredibly old fashioned with tech. Like I said, I was the graphic designer. I knew how to use Photoshop, InDesign, etc. from my old magazine but I would never actually consider myself to be a professional graphic designer by trade as it was all self taught and very limited. I just knew how to make things "camera ready" (this means high enough resolution for print...300 dpi). Because I did a lot of graphic design work, I was given a pretty high end laptop for the period. The hard drive alone was 640GB (it was two 320GB drives in RAID0 array).

Evacuation of the office. Perhaps this was strongly assumed to be an immediate emergency evacuation. We sent everyone home while management assessed what the cause was with the fire department. That is what I meant by closing up shop. So it did give me ample time to copy over the PSTs knowing that I'd be working from home later that afternoon.

To whose who say they would happily work those hours for that kind of pay. I used to think the same thing, which is why I took the job. My base pay was $60K plus commission. And I made a lot of commission and I never missed a sales goal. I also made commission of my teams. Those 200 people were divided up into various sub-teams for each magazine we published. I earned commissions of their total sales as well on top of a monthly sales commission bonus for goals reached. Keep in mind this was just before the housing crash in 2008. People were spending money like it would never end. And our company raked it in. But here's the rub...I was so perpetually stressed. My girlfriend at the time, she was a sales rep on a different team, would cry in the car on our way in to work every day. I worked 6 days a week. I would be so stressed that my Saturday nights were spent in isolation on my computer playing video games. I wouldn't sleep until the sun came up on Sunday, then I would sleep all through Sunday until Monday morning. I was subsisting on 4 to 5 hours of sleep per day during the week. It took an incredible toll on my body. Many of my reps were coke addicts and we turned a blind eye to it because it helped them dial faster and sell more. Some of the managers would staff sales reps from temp agencies asking for people specifically who came out of rehab, knowing they'd relapse at this place where we'd either fire them for performance issues and not pay the staffing agency their hiring fees or they'd be so coked out they'd make a killing in sales.

To my shame, I never reported the CP. I had this image of corporate lawyers coming after me and fighting this never ending legal battle of trying to maintain my innocence. I was young, naive, and didn't know what options I had. That is why I went with the accounting route through the anonymous company hotline. I knew they would do a scan of D's computer and audit his emails which is why I moved his CP folder into a more prominent place for it to be found. Like many corporations, they are more concerned with maintaining a public image and this is something they wouldn't want getting out if it was reported to law enforcement agencies by an employee. I knew once they found that folder, they would be compelled to contact authorities anyway, so it removed the onus from me and removed me from the equation. Plus, after learning about D's darker side, I didn't want him or someone sent by him coming after me for ruining his cushy job. I went with the route I felt would involve me the least and protect my own self the most. I wish I could have reported it to the authorities. Now that I'm much older, looking back, I don't know what things I would have done differently. But now that I'm married and I have a stepson, I think about if I found his photo in there, I can definitely imagine me waiting for him to return so I could exact revenge personally. But that is a bunch of "what if's" and life tends to go very differently.

Our company IT. My office was a satellite office in downtown Los Angeles 45 miles away from our main HQ where the IT team was. It was set up specifically for my team of 200. To give you an idea how inept our IT team was, our IT project manager was tasked with hiring a consultant who would scope out and build us a custom sales/phone software that would link with our database of advertising accounts and other businesses in our database. We had one of the largest databases of businesses in this industry where competitors would offer us very large sums of money just for a portion of this database. Our IT team spent close to $1.6 million on this consultant, and in the end what we were told was a custom program was actually just a turn-key software...for inbound call centers. We were an outbound sales team. What this means is that we were given a program that wasn't custom built for us, had problems using our database, and was designed for call centers that received phone calls (eg - cell phone or cable company call centers). We were an outbound center. We weren't just a call center as many of our reps also traveled nationally to visit advertisers, so an inbound software was absolutely junk to us. Because of our IT's ineptitude, I had to learn a lot of IT basics myself. As far as browsers, most of our staff was using Firefox since it used to be fairly lightweight and quick.

Like many of the stories in this thread, I understand the skepticism. Some of the stories sound so over the top and sound like a fabrication. One thing I've learned from being able to experience quite a lot in life from early on is that there really are shitty people out there like D. The reason for the throw away account is because my main reddit account is used for work in my current industry and I, unfortunately, deal with the public in my job and I don't want this associated with my actual identity.

So why post this at all? I don't care about internet points or accolades, but I do appreciate the comments of support. In a way it's been a bit cathartic for me to share this publicly. I've told the story to coworkers before, and I've felt I never really had any closure with it. This doesn't give me any closure either, but being able to share it on a forum designed for stories like this does help with that burden just a bit. I hope D's daughter grows up to be as normal as can be expected from a situation like that. I still keep in contact with a few of my old sales reps. While I now live quite far away from Los Angeles, I do like to hear back from them to see they're doing ok in life.

Addendum 2:

After I posted this story, I reached out to a few of my former colleagues who I worked with during this time just to see if there were any additional bits of information I might be able to learn. Even with the few friends and colleagues I do keep in contact with, many of them left before this story happened and many were moved to other teams before the following hammer dropped.

One thing I found out tonight from a former colleague was what the aftermath was. After the CEO was removed, the parent corporation was deciding what to do with my branch. Because the embezzled money came from one of the magazines my team was on, during the legal hearings the entire office was shuttered. And it was done in a really shitty way.

Every employee at that branch received a FedEx letter on a Saturday stating their employment with the company was terminated. Again...on a Saturday. This was done to avoid having to do it face to face while everyone was at the office. Because this was a surprise, many of them immediately drove down to the office to retrieve their personal belongings only to find hired security guards who were instructed to not let anyone in. The now-ex-employees were understandably upset. Part of the reason was because of the amount of embezzled money, the legal teams needed to make sure employees weren't removing any potential evidence. But what this meant was that they weren't able to retrieve their personal belongings, and some even had their cell phones, valuables, and other items they wanted to retrieve inside the office. Apparently the office was locked for nearly a year before the staff was able to get court-assisted permission just to retrieve their personal items.

Since then, the building we worked in has been leveled and is now an area being gentrified and has totally turned into a modern, hipster apartment complex. When the toxic magazines/assets were sold off to a new publishing firm, luckily many of the employees were able to be rehired by the new publishing firm and are still working there. Fortunately, the new publishing firm is quite the opposite of the one we worked for.

(source) (story by FalconerXV)

#prorevenge #by FalconerXV #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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insertclassyusernamehere · 5 years

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True Life: I worked for a Sociopath

In early 2013, I started a journey with a company that I loved. I was hired on as a sales associate by a strong, powerful and amazing store manager who literally taught me everything I know. She promoted me 6 months in to a lower level management role, and when she got an offer to move onto bigger things in the company, she helped push me into a fulltime management role. Her assistant manager at the time ultimately ended up filling her position as she left, and to be honest, I had no idea what I was in for. I hadn't worked too much with this particular manager prior, and didn't have much of a real raport with her at all. I truly was excited about the change, and everything felt like a new beginning. The first year was pretty rocky in general, but we just chalked it up to us all being new in our roles, and pushed through it until we got onto a schedule. The assistant manager at the time and I were incredibly close, and it was pretty clear to me at the time that she was being bullied and demonized by our store manager, but I thought maybe it was just some kind of personal bad blood between them. The store manager (we will call her Sarah) would talk to associates and other managers behind her back, calling her names, and pointing her fingers at her for anything going awry in the store. Finally, our ASM snapped, and left the company. Sarah told us all that things would be SO Much better without her there "creating hostility". Most of us knew that the former ASM wasn't the problem.

With the separation of our ASM, I was then ushered into the role as a replacement. I was excited. I was excited about a raise, about more responsibility and the growth that I had worked SO hard for. To give you just a little information on my character: I'm a fiery personality, but I'm also incredibly compassionate. I'm a giant mama bear, and I looked at all my employees as my little cubs. With that being said, I was always doing everything with theirs and the stores' best interest in mind. Now at this time, Sarah had A LOT of personal stuff going on. She always did, to be honest. The personal shit never stopped. But, unlike most people who put themselves in a store management position, she used her power to work everything in HER favor so it didn't conflict with her super dramatic life. This meant breaking every rule along the way. She scheduled herself only opening shifts, on a consistent schedule. Every single Sunday off. And when any small thing happened in her life, she just wouldn't show up to her shifts. She would expect me to come in on my days off to cover her shifts on a monthly basis. She made me work doubles covering her shifts more than a few times. If you were not flexible with her, she would tell you that you just needed to take one for the team and would punish you with a cold attitude and talk shit about you behind your back to the rest of the staff. She bullied everyone in the store, but especially the management team. On the other hand, if you were sick and tried to call out... she'd refuse to cover your shift and make you come in anyways. When she wouldn't come in for a scheduled shift, she would just code in PTO for herself and move on with her day. When she was there, she didnt do anything at all. One time she passed out in the back room from pills while our sales lead was on the floor by herself. As fulltime managers we were assigned DORs (departments of responsibility). There was Operations, Talent and Merchandising and they were split between the 3 fulltime managers. My last year with the company, I was working 2 of the 3 while Sarah was doing none. I took more than half of the conference calls. I planned our entire fiscal year. I made ever schedule, did every interview and every new hire onboarding. I was training our keyholder in the merch DOR. When I say that I was literally running a 1.6 million dollar store with no help from my SM, while only making $13hr I AM NOT KIDDING. All the while, anytime I tried to initiate positive change, and enforce standards I was immediately shot down and told "I am not the Store Manger". So essentially - we were failing. At this point I learned that on top of everything I was doing, she was telling everyone else in the store than I was a horrible manager and did nothing. She called me names to people, and even lied to them about crazy shit she claims I did. When I confronted her, she would tell me it never happened. All our employees were quitting left and right because she was literally crazy. She would yell at them on the sales floor and make them cry, force them to stay past their scheduled shifts and the few times she did make the schedule she would schedule them outside of their availability and fuck us over with coverage on the weekend. She manipulated every single person on staff. I left work crying every day.

Now here's where things got fucking psychotic. My keyholder and I had to drive to Tampa for a training certification class, and one thing led to another that ended with us spilling only a small portion of the crazy shit going on in our store. The manager training us empowered us to go to our DM. I spent the night writing and incredibly detailed list of everything she had been doing with help of the rest of the store staff and management team. The next day I called our DM and she was floored. She told me that she was going through HR to get it figured out (this was in august) and while she got in a small amount of "trouble"for a few small things, Sarah was still our store manager and she was bullying us worse than ever. Sarah immediately assumed that I was the one that got her in trouble (even though every single person on staff contributed) and she took it out on me in the worst ways. She denied all of my request offs and had my working every single weekend. Things hit rock bottom after Hurricane Irma hit us on October 2018. We had an emergency close the day before the hurricane touched down because our entire staff was living in evacuation zones and were running out of the state to stay safe from the storm. The night we closed it was me, Sarah and an associate who we will call Ashley. Things were totally normal, low stress and went fairly smoothly. When we arrived back after the storm everything seemed normal. Another week passed, and my husband and I were driving down south to his parents house when I received a call from my DM. In this call she Informed me that my CRAZY BITCH SM told her that on the night of the emergency closing I told her that if we didn't close the store I was going to KILL HER AND HER FAMILY.

WHAT THE FUCK.

She also made the mistake of telling the DM that the associate was a witness. And the DM told her that she needed to have a conversation with me and ask me why I said that. The DM (thankfully) warned me that this conversation might happen, but neither of us thought this bitch was crazy enough to actually lie about something so serious that she claims I said TO MY FACE.

BOY WERE WE WRONG!

She called out of her next shift with me, but then proceeded to come in before hours at 8:30 AM as I was opening the systems, cornered me alone in the stock room, and this bitch looks at me and says "Kianna, do you remember saying anything inappropriate to me during the emergency close?"

Me: No...

Her: Nothing... at all?

Me: Nope. Nothing at all, why?

Her *yelling*: SO YOU DONT REMEMBER THREATENING TO KILL ME AND MY FAMILY??!

ME*completely shocked that she literally said it*: No, Sarah. Seriously? We both know I would never say something like that. I literally dont even use that kind of language jokingly.

Her: Just admit you said it and apologize.

Me: I'm not going to admit to something I didnt say.

Her: Ashley was working she heard you!

Me: Oh really? Ashley happens to be my opener. Let's ask her! If she heard me say that, I will apologize and just accept that I somehow said this horrible thing and blocked it out.

Her *hesitantly*: oh... okay.

When Ashley arrived, we sat her down and Sarah asked her the same uncomfortable question. "Do you remember Kianna saying something incredibly inappropriate and threatening the night we emergency closed?"

Ashley: Uhh... no?

Sarah: So you don't remember her threatening my family's life?

Ashley: UHM, DEFINITELY NOT?!

Sarah: UGH, WELL I HOPE YOU ARE HAPPY, ASHLEY, THAT SINCE YOU WON'T ADMIT THAT SHE THREATENED ME THAT I WILL LOOK LIKE A LIAR TO MY BOSS!

Turns out she then tried to groom Ashley into lying for her by offering her a raise if she lied. Ashley told our DM this. SARAH WAS STILL OUR STORE MANAGER. By the end of October, 3 MONTHS AFTER TURNING HER IN, I was done waiting. I turned in my notice, found a better paying job and left that toxic situation. I left because I felt unsafe in my work environment and despite all my evidence and her threats and her literally lying in hopes to get me fired and arrested I WAS STILL BEING FORCED TO WORK WITH HER.

The day I turned in my notice, I found out I was pregnant with my son. Leaving that toxic environment was the best decision I ever made. KNOW YOUR WORTH, GUYS.

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