Page 3 of Silver Fox
Without a doubt, my job would be one of the first to be replaced by AI because, in all honesty, it could be done by a computer. It was simply inputting invoices onto the system, which I would then send over to my boss Kenneth to sign off, plus attending to any number of mind-numbing administrative tasks he needed done.
It was so monotonous that I was able to listen to audiobooks all day without missing a beat. The only awkward part came when my coworkers asked me what I was listening to.
“The etymology of the word bucket,” I would reply, with an engaging smile on my face, as Zade Meadows tells Addie to run whilst they’re in the House of Mirrors.
Thankfully, they learned not to ask pretty quick.
Axi’s purring catches my attention, and I smile, despite everything. He’s out for the count, courtesy of his calming plug-in and literal chill pill. Not knowing how he’d react to being in a new place, I’d plugged that sucker in the first chance I got.
And then he’d spent a half hour racing around the hotel room, ecstatic at the new playground he’d been given. The plug-in and the tablet had taken effect right around the time he’d finally run out of energy, and now I’d made an exhausted cat, well, catatonic.
On my work laptop, I click on the latest email from my asshole manager, Kenneth, my eyes rolling.URGENT,the subject line reads. I’ve only been working at Silver Mobility for a couple months, but it took me less than a week to hate this man.
My last employer—and the one before that—all did things by the book. Doing everything by the book suits me perfectly. Cutting corners is not something I’m emotionally equipped to handle. I record everything I do at work on a spreadsheet; every invoice, every shipment, every conversation, every phone call, every appointment, every meeting, every instruction,everything. I can’t help it. I’m a spreadsheet gal, and I won’t apologize for it.
But Kenneth takeslaissez-faireto the next level. I’m supposed to be a normal PA, but what I really do is clean up after him. My first week I caught a shipment worth hundreds of thousands of dollars about to be sent out to the wrong address.
Who approved it? Kenneth.
It wasn’t a one-off incident.
Missing orders? Deliveries sent to the wrong place? Transportation that was never organized? Uncatalogued stock? Budgets that are so outlandish they’re laughable? Coming into work smelling of booze?
Kenneth’s done it all.
By the third week, I was so concerned that I sent the HR manager, Helen, an email. Did I feel like a snitch? Yes. Did I want to be fired for that man’s half-assed attitude? No, but apparently that’s standard practice at Silver Mobility.
All I know is I’m trawling through online job listings, looking for a way out of this sinking ship.
But when theURGENTemail opens, it takes me a second to understand what I’m seeing.
NOTICE OF DISCIPLINARY HEARING
Dear Skye Davis,
I am writing to inform you that you are required to attend a disciplinary hearing on February 15that 8AM. The hearing is to consider and discuss disciplinary allegations of misconduct.
You are entitled to bring a fellow worker or representative to the meeting in accordance with our disciplinary procedure. The hearing will be conducted in accordance with the attached Disciplinary Procedure, and be chaired by Kenneth Youngblood. Helen Locker will also be present.
Please acknowledge receipt of this email and confirm that you will attend the hearing as scheduled. You are reminded that failure to cooperate in a disciplinary process, including failure to attend a hearing without good reason, may itself be a disciplinary offence resulting in further disciplinary action.
Kind regards,
Kenneth Youngblood
I choke out a laugh. Is he serious?
After everything he’s done over the last few weeks, all the times I’ve saved his ass, and nowI’mthe one who has to attend a disciplinary meeting. The indignity rages white-hot in my gut, and I tap out a terse acknowledgement email and hit send.
I don’t even putkind regardsat the end. That’s how angry I am.
Because tomorrow I’m going to attend that meeting armed with my spreadsheet, and give him the hearing of his fucking life.
You know what,fuck it. Fuck Brett. Fuck Sara. And fuck Kenneth. I’m not going to spend my entire evening moping in my hotel room. I’m going to hop in the shower, get dressed to the nines, and then head to the hotel bar and find whatever entertainment I can on my way to the bottom of the nearest bottle.
By the time I walk into the bar, I’m dressed in agorgeousblack mini dress that Brett never let me wear. The soft Bardot sleeves expose my shoulders and my ample curves fill out the pleated fabric. My stomach isn’t flat or smooth, but tonight I don’t care. I’m not here to impress anyone; I’m here to enjoy myself. The bar’s warm pink lighting washes over my skin as my heels click across the marble floor to the packed bar to order a drink.
That’s when I realize I’ve made a mistake.
