Employee of the Year - Pt. 01

She paused at the door and turned to look me, sniggering herself while noting the shell-shocked expression on my face. "Let's just say, I think I'll be having the upper hand from now on." Just as she was about to head through the door, she paused, looking back over her shoulder and popping her foot so it broke free from the sandal. Immediately, I made a fateful mistake, and my eyes were drawn to her wrinkled sole. At once, I felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable. "Or, maybe you'd prefer the upper foot, Dante?"

My eyes darted up in a panic and caught sight of Maya's smug little face. Her nose was wrinkled in the cutest of ways. As my face began to redden, she winked at me and bit her tongue, before dropping her heel back into the shoe and continuing to swag her away out of sight; her feet slapping in those sandals long after she'd disappeared from view.

I was stood there, frozen in the hallway, still trying to process what had happened. "No, no, no, no," I said to myself while grasping my head in my hands. "Fucking no! Not Maya, not her, not here! No!"

After a minute to steady myself, I stumbled towards my office, collapsing as my desk as my chest was continuing to hyperventilate. I was sat in the chair completely awestruck by what had just happened. All of my usual swagger and cocky confidence had totally deserted me. I'd been nervous around Maya as it was, always feeling off my game because I was terrified that her sister might share my secret with her. That my Piper might tell her about my weakness for feet. That Pipe might go one step further and tell her about...Stacey Cleaver. It was something I'd stewed over for months now while seeing her in the office, feeling it was only a matter of time before Piper became the blabbermouth I knew she was. Now, that mortifying fate had apparently become a reality.

Now left alone, I began to panic. I knew Piper was annoyed with how things had ended, but surely, I tried to convince myself, she wouldn't have told her sister about that. But, evidently, she had, and now the secret was out. I was already shaking in fear, knowing that every day at work was going to be an ordeal from now on. I was already imagining Maya teasing me relentlessly on a daily basis, distracting me and throwing me off my work. But more worrying, was the fact it was Maya that knew this incriminating piece of info about me. The fact it was Maya was turning that mortified devastation into...excitement. It was like the very girl I wouldn't ever want to hold something like this over me, now had the power to do so, and there was literally nothing I could do to seize back that knowledge from her. I felt absolutely trapped and at her mercy, and that, despite all desire to supress it, excited the total fuck out of me.

The minutes ticked by while I sat there in a haze, and it was only when Eleanor burst into my office that I was startled back to reality. "What are you doing?" she asked in a short-tempered manner. "You were supposed to be giving your pitch five minutes ago?"

"W-what?" I asked while looking at my watch. A half hour had passed me by, while I'd spent the whole-time day-dreaming about the confrontation with Maya. How she'd teased and taunted me with her feet, not fully knowing the full extent of the nuke she now harnessed. I mean, even if Piper had disclosed everything, Maya was way too young and naïve to truly know. Worst still, I hadn't even seen her feet properly yet, and already they were fucking up my pitch. "I'm sorry," I spluttered while grabbing my laptop. "I'll be there now."

"Sort yourself out, will you?" she scolded me. "Maya is already giving her pitch and she's acing it. I had to bump her up because you were a no-show. Stop bumbling around like a trainee and remember you're the senior man! If you're lucky, the client might have time for you too."

"Yes, Boss," I said in a panic, before I made my way to the meeting room.

Maya had just finished up, to a round of applause, and the client seemed pretty satisfied. As she passed me by, I deliberately kept my eyes focused on the projector, trying with all of my strength to avoid accidentally looking at her feet. Even a mere glimpse would be enough to throw me off my game. Nevertheless, despite the clients obvious approval of whatever crap Maya had pitched, I strode straight in, and headed for the front. "Sorry about that everyone, I lost track of time a little there." I hooked up my laptop, and loaded the presentation.

The main guy at the front adjusted his glasses, and seemed unimpressed that he had more to sit through. However, I didn't give him a chance to object, and once I was stood before everyone, I went through my usual spiel, managing to actually compose myself and get through the first few slides of my presentation. However, once I reached the slide that covered the branding options, and in particular, the colour scheme I'd selected for their marketing, I suddenly paused. I'd included like a rainbow spread of colour options, and for some reason, my thoughts immediately shifted to Maya and her feet. She'd mentioned that she'd had her nails done, just for me, but I hadn't actually got a look at them. I was just too terrified to confirm what she already knew, and looking down at those feet of hers would communicate so much. Somehow, I'd managed to resist, yet, now, I was ludicrously regretting having done so. If I'd simply looked, I'd already have the answer of whether her feet were as pretty as her sister's and what kind of colour she had selected for her nails. I'd always had a thing for black nails, and Piper knew that. If Maya's nails were black, that was going to send me wild, knowing that her sister had told her everything and she'd deliberately selected the one colour she knew I couldn't resist.

"You were saying?" one of the clients asked through the awkward silence in the room. "What is this whole colour scheme thing about?"

I shook my head. "Oh, right, yes, sorry." I continued with the presentation, and managed to steer my thoughts away from the curiosity of Maya's feet. Thankfully, due to my experience and professionalism, I accomplished a recovery from that tiny blip and won the client over, making sure to target the remainder of my pitch to the women in the line-up.

There was a brief discussion where one of the women 'preferred the campaign pitch from that young girl', however, the gentleman in charge made a comment that she was too young and inexperienced. "I like this guy's confidence," he said. "I think he's the one for us. I like his vision. I appreciate a track record."

Once again, I walked out of the meeting with a signature on the dotted line, and Maya was truly fuming while waiting in the corridor. If anything, it seemed that her anger was directed towards herself, and she stamped her foot.

Even though I was tempted to look down, I avoided doing so, not wanting to lose my grip on the moment. "Looks like I come out on top again," I whispered as I passed her by. "Despite your little games."

"Whatever," she snapped back.

"It's because I'm a pro," I said, and now, having overcome her little attempt at distracting me: I felt ridiculously confident, the cockiness having returned. It was like I no longer had anything to worry about, because the ghost of Stacey Cleaver had reared its head, and I'd successfully come out on top. Maya had tried to use my weakness against me, and look what had happened: I'd won anyway. "The Dante brings the bounty home again," I said with an arrogant smirk, waving the contract around victoriously.

Maya had pursed her lips and looked intensely frustrated. "Grrr," I heard her growl, and she stormed off and left me to rejoice.

"Nice try, little girl," I said to myself under my breath, and I was immensely proud of myself. Perhaps I'd taken a big step, and for the first time, I'd actually been able to resist a pretty girl's feet.

I didn't see Maya for the next week. Evidently, she was a bad loser, and she must have been going out of her way to avoid me. It was probably well advised, as I'd been looking forward to rubbing her face in her failure. Having bagged that client for myself, I was one step closer to pulling off another monthly win and securing myself the coveted annual bonus. She'd been foolish to think she could come along, wearing a pair of bloody sandals and snatch everything from me. Did she really think I was that weak? That a simple pedicure would be enough to unravel the grip I held on that annual prize? I had issues, sure, but they were buried way deeper than a silly little girl like Maya could ever dig.

Midway through the week, I was preparing for another meeting where I had the chance to secure a final contract that would put me out of reach. I'd kept my ear close to the wall, and had found out that Maya had signed a conjoined deal with those idiots Deborah and Martin again, pulling her slightly closer to my numbers. Of course, she had to share the commission, but that's what happened when you allowed hangers-on to cling to your success. It was the very reason why I didn't bother with joint pitches anymore. I mean, look at the previous head-to-head with the Sullivan gig. Maya and I could have easily worked together on a mutual pitch. We both could have come away with the contract, but now, I'd be down fifty percent on the commission, wouldn't I? The truth was, I didn't need anyone else, and was happy being selfish in this regard. My numbers spoke for themselves, and I didn't want some sycophantic parasite sucking up to me so they could hang on my coat tails. The last time Martin had come at me with a group project, I'd laughed him out of my office. That made him even more brainless than Disco Debs; at least she had the self-awareness to not even approach.

Early on the Wednesday morning, I was putting some paperwork together ready for a potential lucrative client that was coming in for a meeting. It was a small project, but had a big budget, and with that, a high commission percentage, which was exactly what I was interested in. During the infancy of the company, Eleanor used to just assign certain employees to projects, however, she'd leant more towards this pitching situation as she felt it led to a better fit when a customer was interested in not just buying our products, but bringing us on board to market them too. We had to really demonstrate that we wanted the job and communicate our vision for the roll-out, which increased client confidence in our ability and encouraged them to sign up. Eleanor liked to give us the floor, and encouraged a few of us to pitch to the same client, as sometimes, a client wouldn't gel with one particular idea, but would leap at another. She always professed how this was a way to garner healthy competition and keep us on our toes. Often, bagging a couple of these smaller gigs would basically make you a shoe-in to come out top on the monthly total, as each of these contracts came with healthy commissions.

When I first took Bruce's position, I'd been forced to work as a unit and put together a whole strategy with some of the other clowns. My personal numbers had sucked, and I'd been left bitterly frustrated. Therefore, when I learned about the smaller, personal projects, I'd branched off. I'd targeted these opportunities as a way of assuring myself of getting the highest totals on a regular basis. Too many of my colleagues put all of their energy into the bigger, team projects, because they weren't capable of going it alone. Sure, these bigger projects were more lucrative in terms of the company profits as a whole, but as they were a shared project, each individual would end up with a smaller piece of the pie as a commission. To me, though they looked good on your resumé, these projects were a waste of my time. All I cared about was making as much money as possible, not for the company, but for myself, and doing so as quickly as I could. I had no interest in being like Eleanor, still working as a pensioner due to the prestige or whatever it was that kept her coming in every day. I wanted to be retired and on a beach by forty, and to do that, I had to make as much as I could every year. That meant, I needed that annual bonus, which was about half of the yearly salary on its own.

I already had a lot of stock investments and a pretty healthy pension fund on the go. Everyone else seemed to completely miss the opportunity that these smaller clients provided, and in some ways, I felt like I was the Wolf of Wall Street of the company, focusing in on the penny stocks that offered double, and sometimes, triple the commission.

Maya had learned a very early lesson, that I was not a guy to mess with. She'd gone up against me and lost, and what had her next step been? Some stupid group project with Disco Debs. Already she'd been schooled, and I figured she was going to steer clear of the single project like all of my other defeated enemies now did.

Also, these pitches allowed me to flourish on my strengths. I was a complete predator when it came to a presentation, as not only would I demonstrate the strengths of my own pitch, but I wasn't afraid to highlight the weaknesses in my colleague's, if they bothered turning up at all. I'd bluntly done so when the previous client had spoken well of Maya's idea; brazenly pointing out, in politely a way as possible, how much it actually sucked. I mean, she'd wanted to go all new-age and shit, rolling out QR codes and wasting money on some sinkhole called Augmented Reality. She was a typical Gen Zer and she needed to realise that she was living in a dream world. The guy in charge hadn't had much of a clue what she was on about, and was only going along with her idea because he'd thought it was the only option, until I'd shown up.

Despite all of the bravado and banter, I could actually be quite professional when there was money up for grabs. I'd spend some time putting effort into my research and preparation, tailoring my presentations so that they were client-specific. That was something that they always noticed and seemed to respond well to. All of my colleagues would roll-out the same old, tired, generic presentations again and again, because they were too swamped down with group projects. That's how I always managed to appeal to a client on a personal level, and often, I'd get the gig simply because they liked me. This particularly worked well when the client was a man of around a similar age to myself. We'd bond and swiftly get along. If it was a woman, well, I'd use my charm and appeal to their lack of intelligence.

On these pitch days, where the client was coming to us, I'd always book out the meeting room in advance and come in a little early. I'd set things up and go over my presentation. While everyone else was still at home in bed, or wasting time in the break room with a coffee, I'd expend a bit of extra energy, going through my notes and practicing my delivery. This is why I was always the one that came away with the contracts. All of these pretenders would half-ass it, and didn't appreciate the effort that went into these things. They weren't willing to take the time out of the workday to make sure they were prepared. Some of them would turn up and spend the entire presentation fumbling around and stuttering, and then would act all surprised that they were overlooked. That kind of performance was Disco Debs' party trick. She looked as out of place at the forefront of a pitch, as she did on a bloody dancefloor! I'd actually been heading to the meeting room before the previous pitch, when Maya had caught me off guard with her change in footwear. I'd been so flabbergasted, that I hadn't even prepared properly that day. Still, despite my preparation lacking, I still won, didn't I? Why? Because I was the fucking man.

Around eight, I was just sat there alone in the meeting room, reading through my notes, repeating key phrases out loud and making sure I had everything memorised, when the door opened. I looked up and squinted, figuring that maybe one of the cleaners had come in early and was worried about disturbing me. However, I frowned upon noticing that Maya was tentatively leaning in. "Oh," she said, as if surprised. "I didn't know there was anyone else in here."

"What are you doing here so early?"

She walked around the large centre table, clutching a bag against her chest. "I'm guessing the same reason you're here? Preparing for the pitch?"

For a second, I was taken aback. None of my other colleagues had ever come in this early and certainly not with the intention of getting a head start on a presentation. I was quite surprised, and hadn't figured that Maya had been serious when she stated she was going to try and win the Employee of the Year competition, especially after I'd demolished her on the previous attempt. I mean, obviously it wasn't possible that she'd deliver a presentation as professionally as I could, she simply didn't have the experience, but it was still a shock to see her enthusiasm and determination.

"You're not giving up after last week's lesson, are you?"

Maya cocked her head. "Not at all," she said. "I have every confidence in my ability, especially now I know that little secret about you." She smirked to herself, before pulling the seat from the table. "You're not going to have it so easy today."

I, in turn, seethed. The fact she'd so bluntly brought up my private life again really got to me. Involuntarily, my eyes crept to her feet, and thankfully my confidence brimmed when I noted she was wearing those booties again. Didn't she know anything? I didn't have a thing for bloody booties, and obviously, she was too much of an imbecile to have actually listened properly to her sister.

I mean, she had every right to come in and pitch, but the fact she thought she deserved to win over me, because she knew I had a thing for girl's feet, was outrageous. If I was a good colleague, I'd have been supportive and encouraging, but I was first to admit that wasn't me, and the competitive part of myself was annoyed. This stupid little girl honestly thought she had a chance at taking the crown from me? Not because of her work ethic or talent, but because her big-mouthed sister had shared an intimate secret about me? That really ground my gears and left a bitter taste in the mouth. The sheer audacity of her, to posture in here and act like she was actually competition to a senior colleague, and only after being at the firm for a couple of months? She was in for another lesson. "I'm just getting things set up," I said. "I'm already well prepared for the presentation."

"Of course you are." She flung her bag down onto the table opposite, before pulling out her laptop and getting set up herself. "So, I'm guessing you won't mind if I join you then? I want to go through a few things a little before I'm up." She blinked a few times and took a deep breath. "I want to do a better job of my pitch this time."

I sniggered slightly. "Yeah, it's not easy. You really have to know what you're doing." However, I then frowned as she took a seat. There was just something annoying with her being there in the first place. It almost felt like she was intruding on my turf, and I was annoyed by the gall of her. Why the hell did she think she even had a chance going up against me, especially after last time? It was so perplexing and simply irritated me. If I was her age, I never would have thought I could compete against a seasoned professional like Eleanor, for instance, or even Bruce, yet Maya was breezing in here like she actually had a shot at winning the client over.

Between looks of bitterness over at her, I tried to focus on my work again and get everything straightened out. However, Maya's mere presence was enough to annoy me, and I kept looking over with resentful scorn as she flicked through various papers and made notes in an annoyingly-cute Filofax thing; its cover pink with little stars and rainbows affixed. While she scribbled down gibberish, she bit her tongue in the corner of her mouth, acting like she actually knew what she was doing. Occasionally, she'd look up, and as our eyes met, I'd immediately look back towards my laptop, not wanting her to have the satisfaction of knowing she was maddening me.