Open Season

I didn’t miss this.

I scan the modern co-working space my company is leasing for an open desk furthest from any of my team members whom I am trying to avoid until after I locate the gourmet expresso machine.

There is a warm buzz in the office. It’s brimming with collegial greetings and elbow pounds that now replace handshakes and hugs. Most of my colleagues have traded in medical and cloth masks for transparent face shields that allow their faces to be seen and generally provide no protection for anyone seeking to avoid an ailment that the wearer may carry.

It is my first day back in the office since the world shut down, and I am forced to sit two desks over from my manager, Claire. My co-worker, Zack, on the other side of her is likely the only person on the planet to willingly opt into a seat in such proximity.

Being able to start and end my day when I want is a blessing and a curse. Early risers are rewarded with first pick of the closed off offices. All else are left with the anxiety inducing seats in closest proximity to Claire.

My manager is a less than sensible leader who tends to overshare and underestimate the power of office politics. Which in the day and age of “come as you are” has propelled her to the highest of heights in our company at the expense of everyone’s sanity around her.

30% of my day consists of managing my own large-scale projects while the other 70% involves me deciphering her e-mails and doing damage control and relationship refurbishing on any interdisciplinary team she touches.

I get to the office around 8:30 AM and open my first email from her.

From: Claire

To: Jake

CC: Rise

Time: 7:30 am EST

+Rise

Thanks, Jake –

As a next step, we’ll send last year’s ERP deck to Jenny for sign off? Looping in Rise to follow up for time with the broader working group.

Insert panic.

Shoot, I’m looped into this e-mail with no chain of context attached. Who is Jenny? Who is even in the working group? Darn it, there is a question mark. Is the question for me or Jake? When she says “we’ll send” does she really mean me? Am I "we?" Where is the ERP deck? When is this due?

“Hey Rise, were you able to make any progress on the materials?”

She’s sifting through her e-mails. I glance at her wall clock featuring a cartoon shark on the face of it. It’s 8:36 AM.

“Oh, I thought I was just looking for time with the team. I was able to see a few avails for the two of us but who else is in the working group?”

She shifts to look at me.

“Remember when we talked about checking the directory to gauge team alignments?”

I go inside of myself and have a quick conversation with her.

“No, I don’t remember when we talked about checking the directory to gauge team alignments. Is that your way of telling me you genuinely don’t know, or are you literally giving me the run around to prove a point?”

I re-enter the room.

“Yea,” I lie “but working groups are typically cross functional so I was able to see Jake’s team but I’m not sure who Jenny is and wasn’t sure if other teams are involved.”

She sighs.

“Okay you should already know key stakeholders across the division. You’ve been here three months.”

Re-enters self.

“Well I do not."

A bit confused on what I should do next, I smile. If I do not ask the obvious question nothing moves. If I do ask, she thinks I am an idiot. The show must go on. Why is she like this?

“So…are you able to tell me Jenny’s last name or..?

CRAP, that came out wrong. She takes a deep breath and a re-centering smile forms across her face.

“It’s Ringer.”

While typing she continues, “ if you could also send them a PowerPoint of what our team does for them to reference that would be great. Most of the materials should be saved down in our drive. I’m happy to review the draft before you send.”

I have been here before. The offer to review before sending is no offer at all, but an expectation. I have learned this after months of deciphering her coded language and making the mistake of sending something directly to a client that she was “happy to review” in the past.

Fool me once…shame on you. Fool me twice…shame on me.

“Okay thanks, Claire. I’ll send to you before sharing.” I decode.

As the one who toes the line, Claire has made her claim to fame in the office as the woman who bends all the “rules” in the name of being her authentic self. Her passive aggressive micro-managing demeanor is noted by all as a fair trade for the quality of work she produces.

“She’s a real shark.”

That’s what they all say. A loaded compliment that she’s taken to the head and began owning with random knickknacks around her desk.

Her falsies touch her eye lids, she has nails the length of her fingers and lipstick as loud as her voice. Our caucasian colleagues are not comfortable here. As a member of the same marginalized communities as her, I am often looped into off the record conversations that involve me backing her stylistic choices and defending her behavior as something we should normalize and embrace.

I do this despite my troubled relationship with her and not feeling I can completely resonate myself. For the culture though, right?

Black women have it hard enough from others as it is, but her lack of conversational couth is what leaves me in a bind most times. An anxiety inducing cycle that leaves me afraid to ask questions. No one is safe when she is around.

It’s open season.