Flash 500 Day 6 – Writing
Prompts:
Flame
Person
in professional disgrace
Whistle Blower
“Peggy, you know that I am
in your corner. I haven’t forgotten what Mr. Brickhardt did to me, but I just
can’t risk losing my job. I have kids, you know . . .”
“Yeah, sure Alison. I get
it. You’re about the fifteenth person to stop by my office with a similar
story. Enjoy your continued torment.”
“I really am sorry. I just
can’t take the chance.”
"No. No, I do understand.
You and all your buds can solicit my help in protecting YOU, but when it comes
to standing up . . . well . . . isn’t it lucky I don’t have kids, or a mortgage
payment, or an elderly parent. Oh wait. I do have an unemployed husband dying
of cancer right now. But don’t let that worry you.”
Watching Peggy’s face fall
in shame felt good. Rats, all of them. Each and every one of them deserves what
they get—more of the same old same old butt pinching, hot breathing down the
back of your neck, lewd commenting fun times with the boss.
How could I be so stupid? I
hate people.
The problem is that I’m a
problem solver. It’s what got me a great job with an up and coming company in
the first place. I’m really good at spotting what needs to be fixed and taking
steps to see that the solution is initiated.
But there was one fly in my
lovely honey body butter of a job. Mr. Brickhardt, the program director. When
Ms. Elliott retired we all breathed a sigh of relief, because the dragon lady
was on her way out the door. Little did we know what was in store for us—at
least those of us with boobs and a vagina.
It started for most of us
with a comment about our appearance.
“You look especially nice
today.”
“Did you change your
hairstyle? You look even younger than before.”
“That color green really
brings out the color of your eyes.”
It was hard not to be polite and accept the compliments as genuine, so we were all nice about his remarks. Unfortunately it was a slippery slope that led to outright solicitation of sexual favors for promotions, or even continued employment. When Melanie was “let go” for “losing” a file that wasn’t lost (translation – wouldn’t let the boss do her on the desk) we quickly solidified into a force for change, with the office problem solver, me, at the forefront.
Now the problem solver is
the new office problem. I expect I’ll be cleaning out my desk before lunchtime.
Another one gets away with it because women are too afraid to speak up or
willing to back down at the first sign of corporate pressure. By the way,
corporate is claiming that we were willing to accept his compliments without
complaint and therefore are complicit . . .
Ah, and there’s the knock.
“Hi Cheryl. What’s up?”
“Mr. Hargrove wants to see
you in his office immediately.”
The grinning bastard is
standing just far enough back behind Cheryl that I can see his gloat face.
“Thanks Cheryl. I’m on my
way.”
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