Dxx Abroad

Ben has declined your meeting invitation.

I breathe deeply, hoping that he's just busy tomorrow and not, as I suspect, enacting some ridiculous power grab as early as 9:22 on a Monday morning.

Then the follow-up email arrives.

Dxx, you must circulate your project brief 24 hours prior to the meeting.

I rise from my desk and prepare myself for an exchange that will undoubtedly leave me seething. I cross the floor and intercept Ben as he waddles back to his desk from the kitchen.

"Ben, are you not available at that time, or is it just the brief issue?"

He smirks. When he speaks I am confronted with the evidence of thirty-seven years of British dental work: hardened deposits of food and bacteria solidified into coffee-colored peaks shoring up the spaces between his yellowed bottom teeth.

"It's company policy. Briefs need a 24-hour lead before a meeting. Your meeting is scheduled for 1:30 tomorrow. You said you'd distribute the brief by the end of today. That's not 24 hours." His smirk becomes a grin. My eyes dart sideways to the scissors lying on Maria's unattended desk. In one swift motion I could scoop them up and bury them to the hilt in his right ear. I picture his mouth continuing to move as brain matter begins to leak from the flume I've created in his skull. I find myself smiling back at him.

"The portion that affects you is a paragraph. Do you really need 24 hours to read a paragraph?"

"It's company policy."

"I'll read it to you if you have trouble with the larger words."

"Don't get smart with me, young man."

I consider explaining that I would be loathe to do so, lest I confuse him. I determine that the time spent arguing with him is time wasted and will only leave me angrier.

"I'll send it out immediately. It won't be finished, but your section will be. I hope that's enough for you."

I turn and walk back to my desk, calling him a twat at a level that is nowhere near under my breath and attach the unfinished document to an email. In the body of the email I thank Ben for pointing out my grievous error in failing to account for the necessary lead time for my brief and explain that I am sending out an unfinished document so that we might be able to hold the meeting, at which time I will fill in any missing details. I hit send and promise myself that this will be the last time I respond to Ben's passive aggression in kind. Next time I intend to tread the high road of open aggression.

I pick up my phone and dial the number at the bottom of the personal email open on my screen. One of the six recruiters with whom I am currently working picks up on the other end. My voice is lost among those of my colleagues. They pay no mind to what I'm saying. They assume I'm making a research call. They assume that I, like them, am pressing a claims director at some insurance company for his opinions on what topics should be included in the agenda for a conference on fraud detection.

"Hi Camille. It's Dxx. Please tell me you're closer to getting me the hell out of here."