Employee of the Year - Pt. 01

Eleanor had grimaced slightly, before taking the contract. She had adjusted her glasses while reading over the numbers. "I did, but she's signed, and looking at the deal he's bagged, I'm rather inclined to forget."

That afternoon, Eleanor had given me a permanent position. I had celebrated by buying myself a new designer suit and a pair of Italian leather shoes. From that day forwards, I had always looked the part.

When the next Monday rolled up, I'd taken the time to swing by the factory before starting my new permanent position. "What's up, losers?" I'd goaded them, while spinning on the spot in my brand-new outfit. "How's the oil and grease down here then?" My grin had been smarmy, and was returned by a chorus of tuts and dirty looks.

"You're not a poof, are you?" Bruce had asked as I swaggered into the office. He had nodded towards the pink tie I'd been wearing. "Cause if you're into a bit of the bum fun, well, I guess I was wrong about you and don't think we're gonna get along, kid." He'd gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "Maybe you should learn from one of the women. You can gossip together over some tea and biscuits."

"No," I'd said defensively, feeling my throat dry up as his boldness had taken me by surprise. He had a primal need to crack jokes, but they hadn't usually been directed my way. "I like women."

Deborah had been making herself a coffee, and she rolled her eyes. "Well, we certainly don't like you two."

"Alright, keep your panties on. I'm just joshing with him, but that's good to know: because the feeling is mutual." He had tapped his fingertip on the side of his head. "Don't listen to a rotten growler like that Debs. She's just bitter because her fella didn't give her any this morning."

I'd had to stop myself from bursting out laughing, while Deborah had stepped away, her face blushed with embarrassment. "Yeah," I'd said, somewhat awkwardly and with a little discomfort. "Run away, woman." I'd waited for Deborah to snap back, hell, I'd somewhat wanted her to, but instead, she'd just sniffled and left us alone. For a moment I had felt regret, but then, I had once again been blinded by the money.

"Whatever you do to get contracts, keep doing it," Bruce had said encouragingly. "That's all the boss lady cares about. Getting the orders in. There's no time for any of that touchy feely crap that the women are trying to push." He had wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Just get the bloody paper signed and don't apologise to anyone for the way you do it. Women moan enough when you're giving them a good fucking."

That had been my mantra ever since, even long after Bruce had parted ways with the company and I'd taken over his office. Apparently, his blue talk, which had been his most cherished weapon, went a bit too far at one point, saying something particularly racist and criminal. Eleanor had been left with no choice other than to let him go; even the factory floor falling out of his reach. She'd called me into the office to back him up prior to his dismissal, and for a moment, I'd been tempted to lie and save his skin. But it had been dog eat dog, and I'd kept schtum; his office being my reward. Of course, he'd called me a bastard that day, but it was his own damn fault: I had been the monster he'd created.

To this day, I continued to be that monster, and I talked to my colleagues however I wanted to, making sure to never cross the line Bruce had stumbled over. Whenever I'd say something particularly awful to one, particularly to the women, I'd hold my breath for a second, waiting for them to snap back, but, they never did. It was even disappointing at times, especially when I knew I'd blatantly crossed a line. There was just something exciting about an argument, and especially seeing the fire in a woman's eyes. Deep inside me, some part of me felt like I was only goading them so they would say something back, but all of the gals at our company were just too chicken to step up to a man like myself. I mean, Eleanor did, of course, but she was a wrinkled old shrew, so who the hell cared about her?

As we entered the next month, I was already committed to maintaining the same pace and momentum. I'd been topping the charts in commission from the start of the year, with the final bonus as my target. The days of Bruce were long gone, and I'd surpassed his record numbers by this point. He was probably working in a grocery store or something these days, while I was sat comfortably with an ever-growing bank balance.

"Dante," Eleanor said as she popped her head into my office, just as I was sipping my morning coffee. "You have a minute for a chat?"

I was kicked back in my chair, my polished brogues crossed up on the corner of the table with my favourite coffee cup; top lad! emblazoned across the front. It had once been Bruce's, but in the furore of his dismissal, he'd left it behind. It was fun to reminisce about the old times and sniggering to myself as I recalled Bruce and his shenanigans. I did actually miss the old asshole, but with my most recent Employee of the Year plaque proudly displayed on the bookshelf, I knew I'd take my recent achievements over having him back at the company. Bruce probably understood anyway, I mean, he knew how things worked. All that mattered was getting that signature on the contract, and sometimes, you had to crack a few eggs to make an omelette. The year I'd taken Bruce's position in the company had been kind of my step up, and I'd gradually made a name for myself in the sales team. I mean, now look at me, four years later and I had a bulging bank balance and a load personal awards to my name. I was leasing a fancy condo with its own pool, and driving a shiny, new sports car.

"Sure, Boss Lady," I said with a smirk, dropping my legs to the floor and waving her in. "I always have time for such a beauty."

Eleanor stepped in and rolled her eyes. "Save your sweet-talking for the clients, young man," she chuckled. "Your flattery will never work on me."

"Well, it was worth a try." I beamed a huge smile at her. "What's up?"

"We've got a new starter that I need you to show the ropes."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and beneath the desk, out of view, I clenched my fists in frustration. My first instinct was to gripe and groan, but I knew Eleanor wasn't about a bad attitude. I'd been on such a good run lately, that I didn't want to sour the mood. Instead, I took a few seconds to steady myself, before trying to be as polite as possible. "Eleanor, please, I've got a meeting lined up today with a potential client. They're likely to put in a big order. They're coming in here especially." I paused, and waited, but when she continued to just stare at me blankly, I felt the need to push the point. "Is there anyone else that can deal with this? Can you shove Deborah on it?"

"Deborah will be handling the client coming in. She's already working on her pitch."

"Well, there goes that client," I mumbled with a roll of my eyes. "Disco Debs will surely blow that one." I'd labelled her that during one of the Christmas parties, when she'd awkwardly jiggled from foot to foot on the dancefloor. She hated it whenever I called her that, but, I still did so anyway, because she had no backbone and it was fun to rile her. "It's just I don't really have the time for a newbie. You know how it is?"

"You were a newbie once," she said. "I gave you a chance, didn't I? So, it's your turn to pay something back."

"Please," I said in an almost whine. I usually managed to weasel my way out of these stupid training exercises. I mean, yeah, Bruce had shown me the ropes, but that had been his choice. He'd encouraged Eleanor to take me on, but I wasn't doing the same now. She was putting this on me. "I think Deborah or Martin could probably handle this a lot better." That was, of course, a blatant lie. Disco Debs and Moronic Martin had the charisma of dead fish, and to be honest, their numbers were so pathetic that I didn't even know why Eleanor kept them around. Sure, they were good at doing a lot of the legal paperwork, and I'd often fling them a contract to put into motion once I'd got it signed, but they were just those kinds of people. You know the sort, the kind of faces that belong on the radio, not out-front meeting the clients. They could handle babysitting some annoying trainee, rather than having my precious time wasted. I picked up a stress-ball shaped like a breast and squeezed it vigorously, before playfully winking at her. "Please, Boss, can you give me this one?"

"Nonsense," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I want her to learn from the best. She's the grand-daughter of an old school friend, and I want to give her a chance."

My rigid spine immediately softened upon hearing her. We actually had a new salesgirl in the building? For some reason, over the past months, the company had been on some annoying trend of always hiring men. Most of these upstarts were boisterous loudmouths that immediately tried to wrangle the attention away from myself. Often, they'd be playing on their phone, instead of using the time wisely and observing how I was able to sell properly. I found their arrogance infuriating. I mean, I was extremely confident and cocky, but then I had the numbers and experience to back things up. These guys had just sauntered into the building and thought they knew everything. It had reached the point where I was fed up of having to chaperone and take them along on my sales visits, as they'd often say something unprofessional and botch the deal for me. They'd try to flirt and sweet-talk the clients in the most blatantly obvious and vulgar of ways, lacking all of the charisma and attuned sensitivity that I expertly wielded.

The only woman we'd previously hired during my time here was one in her mid-sixties, an old friend of Eleanor who was down on her luck, though she had an extensive marketing history. For a while, I'd even viewed her as a threat to my pedestal, however, she'd been nearing retirement and had basically only been going through the motions so she had something to bring the cash in before her pension paid out. I'd quietly observed some of her techniques and skills, assimilating them into my own style so that I could improve the marketing element of my position, customising my pitches accordingly. When she had eventually retired, I'd been able to step into the gaps she'd left behind and my numbers went through the roof. That was how a good salesman behaved; forever looking at ways to improve and make more money. Never letting an opportunity slip by and being determined and merciless in the pursuit of victory.

For the past few months, I'd had the top commission totals as usual and was already heading towards my end-of-year goal. The monthly intake was a welcome addition to my regular salary, however, that wasn't the lone reason for which I pursued commission so relentlessly. At the close of each year, the employee with the highest earnings for the company would receive the coveted 'Employee of the Year' award and benefits package.

With my ever-improving performance, I'd come close the first year I'd been at the company. However, during my second year, I'd realised that going it alone was the best way to get ahead. I'd already been branching away from Bruce before he even left, as I figured that all of my success was simply feeding into his own. When we tag-teamed on pitches, I'd come away with a lower percentage of the commission, even though I did most of the work, simply because of his seniority. In this industry, there was a lot of clambering over each other, and I was gobbled up by the senior salespeople during my first naïve year. That's why when Bruce fucked up with his loose lips, I kept my own firmly closed when he needed an alibi. I didn't want the lower portion of the commission anymore, I wanted it all to myself, and with Bruce out the door, the monthly cheque was mine alone.

As I spied my reflection in the metallic face of the most recent Employee of the Year plaque, I didn't regret anything. I'd lost Bruce as a colleague and a friend, but I'd gained so much more; my prized sports car in the parking lot diluting all guilt.

Still, even if the new girl was going to be of supermodel standards, it was still going to require effort on my part to help her learn the ropes. My time was precious, and the last thing I needed was some newbie asking me a load of questions to which the answers were obvious. Despite having a reputation with the ladies, mostly through rumour and gossip, my actual experience with women was little. Most of my bravado was for show, and was definitely useful in bagging contracts, but when it came to actually dating: I was a bundle of nerves. I'd frequently put my foot in it and say the wrong thing, and I found genuine interest from women to be intimidating. Thankfully, I avoided socialising with those at work, and usually took the trips alone, so none of my colleagues ever found out the truth: that all of the talk of my conquests was actually just that: talk. Anyway, I was a firm follower of the old-adage 'don't shit where you live', so even if a colleague had been interested, I had the perfect excuse to cover up my inexperience. The last thing I wanted was some kind of trouble at work because a colleague who enjoyed a piece of the Dante later changed her mind and caused me problems. I mean, look how that shit had worked out for Bruce. He'd been rejected by one of the girls in HR and had made a derogatory comment about her skin tone in defence. He'd had one careless moment and now he was toast. I wasn't about to throw my career away because of some floozy. Still, I was mildly curious about the new girl and whether she was a looker. Even though I knew I wouldn't act upon anything, I still liked a look, and enjoyed being in the position of authority.

"Fine," I said. "I'll show her the ropes, but I can't be using up too much of my valuable time."

Once Eleanor had left me to it, I tried to get as much work done as possible before I had to babysit the intern or whatever she was. I'd had to oversee some idiots in the past, and I'd quickly lose my patience, becoming increasingly short in my responses. I had better things to be doing than training some oblivious fool that thought they could ever do the job as well as I could. Any time spent teaching them the basics was time wasted elsewhere.

I'd recently brought a new client on board, and I was having to customise a package to their specific needs. It was too complicated a matter for Disco Debs' bimbo head to manage, and I had to make sure there was as little as possible for her to screw up when it fell on her desk. I was just in the process of putting all of the financial estimates into a spreadsheet, when there was a knock on my office door. "Come in," I said with a sigh, rubbing my temples with eyes closed as I prepared for the ensuing headache coming my way. I'd have to completely write-off the morning while going through the basics with this plonker. Bruce had it easy when I'd come along, because I was such a natural and all, but every newbie I'd had to chaperone was an utter failure, completely out of their depth and nothing but a pain in my ass.

I heard the door click, and opened my eyes just in time to see a small, slender, youngish-looking girl squeeze through the gap. Immediately, my eyes dropped to the floor as I scanned her from the ground up, noting that she was wearing a pair of booties with heels, raising her diminutive height an extra inch. I lingered on those booties for a second, before I swallowed, then nodded my head, ready to be the lead man as usual.

Like all of the other newbies, she'd bought a new trouser suit, probably to appear professional, though only having the effect of making her look out of her depth. Her skin was ivory pale, with dark, thick eyebrows and similarly brown, wavy hair that flowed right down her shoulders. As a demonstration of her trying to look the part, though failing, her shirt was awkwardly hanging loose from beneath the blazer, while the collar was popped, through which I spied a flattish chest. Boobs weren't really my thing anyway, and her face was pretty enough to make up for it. Finally, I thought to myself, a bit of eye candy around the office. She looked like she'd come here straight from graduation, and she'd been gone within weeks, so, I may as well enjoy looking at her while I still could. My eyes scanned her all over once more, while I rested back in my seat, enjoying the awkward looks of apprehension from her as she clutched her handbag.

"Hi," she finally whispered, with clear nervous trepidation in her voice. It was such a power-boost to see these newbies trembling before the sight of an experienced and accomplished salesman like myself. "It's my first day. I'm here to learn--" I cocked my head in surprise as the girl abruptly stopped what she was saying, instead narrowing her eyes and seeming to daydream over my shoulder.

I turned and looked behind me, wondering if there was something distracting her through the window. However, when I turned back, I noted that she was still staring at me curiously; the back of the hand pressed against her hip as if she were a teapot. Her eyelids flickered, and it almost appeared like she was having a seizure or something.

Great, I thought to myself, another airhead they've sent my way. Clearly, the standard had really been dropping from the recruitment team, and now I was having to waste my time training someone that seemed like they were about to dribble down their own chin. Even though she was physically attractive, my interest in her dwindled as it became obvious that she was a dim-witted, empty shell. The recruitment guys were such morons. They thought simply because she was pretty, that clients were going to throw their money at her? That wasn't how it worked. A good salesman needed his wits.

"Are you alright?" I asked, dipping my head. Perhaps she was just taken aback by how attractive I was, and my good looks had shocked her into silence. It wasn't unknown for the odd young girl we'd hire, as a rare as they were, to develop a light crush on me. During those moments, I'd revel in the feeling of being wanted and desired, to be sexually attractive to such a naïve and impressionable woman. Of course, it never amounted to anything, because, I didn't shit where I lived. Yeah, that was the reason why, because obviously, if I'd wanted to bed them, I could have easily done so. I just didn't.

Suddenly, her eyelids flickered a number of times, before her posture became entirely relaxed. "Dante," she said, a notable pursing in her lips. "Is that you? I didn't know you worked here?" Her expression became completely relaxed, as if we were old friends and conversation should be informal. "Granny never said anything about you working here."

I flinched upon hearing my name, before I looked her up and down, trying to scour my memories and stumble upon a recollection. She was such a treat to look at, with her tight, young body, that I'd definitely remember her, however, I was drawing up a blank. Maybe she was some random girl I'd flirted with one time, a girl that clearly thought about me a lot whereas I couldn't even remember her. "Umm, do I know you?"

There was a pause as she considered me, her eyes looking me up and down the same way I'd just done, almost like she was judging me. "Well, I guess you don't remember me." Her face suddenly contorted as if she was disgusted. "Figures, I suppose. Fits really well with the kind of guy you turned out to be."

I felt my own lips curling in distaste with the casual and disrespectful way she was speaking to me. I mean, she'd barely been here a few minutes, and because she recognised me from somewhere, apparently that made it fine to drop the professionalism and act like a little bitch? Even though she was young as hell, upon recognising me, she'd seemed to instantly mature to the point she no longer appeared nervous or uncomfortable in my presence. Something had evidently changed upon her identifying me, and I found that particularly unnerving. Especially because I, in turn, had no recollection of her at all. Immediately, my own composure became untangled as I self-consciously considered what had happened between us in the past. Had I met her while I was drunk, and did something embarrassing that I couldn't even remember? Had she rejected me? Had I actually had a chance with her, and blown it as usual? Other than one previous, long-term girlfriend, who I had thrown my heart and soul at, my experience was extremely limited, and humiliatingly, on the few occasions I did put my neck on the line and try to take things to the next level, Dante-junior had a habit of letting me down. It was a mortifying reality, and I suddenly felt terrified that this was how we knew each other. I mean, if I had gone drunkenly limp on her, and she spread that around the office, my false reputation as a lady-killer would be blown right open.