Telling My Boss To Fuck Off!

Whatever it was, Kyle’s outburst lit a spark in me that was raging to a four-alarm fire.

But before I could argue with him or curse him out, his desk phone began to ring. He flicked his wrist, gesturing for me to take the report back as he ordered, “Fix all this. I’ve got to take this call.” No politeness. No specific instructions about what particulars were missing and what he wanted to see in the revision. Nothing. Typical Kyle.

I was so mad that I was on the verge of tears and my hands were shaking as I snatched the report out of his hands. I turned quickly on my heels and stormed out of his office, intentionally slamming the door behind myself so hard that it rattled his nameplate. I was absolutely determined not to let him see me cry or lose my temper as I threw the report into the trash and slumped in my old desk chair.

Only I didn’t open any files on my old Dell desktop, or start any new tasks. Instead, I got a large shopping bag from the break room and cleaned out my desk, took down my photos, clocked out and left my employee badge on top of my cubicle. I put on my mask, grabbed the bag, my coat and purse and switched from my heels back into my snow boots. “Fuck you, Kyle,” I spat at his door as I passed it and headed to the elevator bank before he could finish his call and come looking for me.

The storm cloud of my attitude was as bad as the dark storm clouds gathering in the sky as I angrily walked through the Oculus to the subway station. As I sat on the dormant E-train waiting for it to go, I went in my phone and blocked all contact numbers for the company—first and foremost, Kyle’s direct line and my desk phone. “Fuck you,” I affirmed again, to no one in particular.

As I put in my AirPods, I accidentally dialed Natalia. “You do know you’re waking me up, right?” she asked groggily.

“Omigod, babe, I’m so sorry! I’m such an idiot; go back to sleep!” I exclaimed apologetically.

“It’s okay,” she hummed sleepily, “What’s up, Daffy Duck?”

Since I already had her on the phone, I told my sister the whole story of what had happened to my afternoon. Natalia listened patiently and then asked whether I was okay. “I guess so,” I assured her, “I’m going to go home and look for a new job. I have enough savings to get me through a few months while I look for something else. Plus, there might be another stimulus check.”

“You know, Daffy, since you’re already quitting, why look for another dead-end job? Why not just finally go back to school and get your MBA? You’ve always been the one of the smartest women I’ve ever known: you and mom. Why don’t you finally go work on your Master’s degree so that you can really do something you’re passionate about?”

I shrugged and sighed. It was so hard to explain, especially with strangers listening in and my phone reception about to cut out at any second as the E-train finally started up and the doors binged that they were about to close. “I don’t know, Nat. It’s complicated. I’ve got to go; I’ll call you back later?”

“I have rotations. Call me this weekend. Love you,” she said as I lost reception.

By the time I got off the E-train in Long Island City, I was feeling less angry at Kyle and more excited about my future prospects. Even though he was a dick, I suppose that he had sort of had a point; the rushed job I’d done on the AmEx report didn’t have any breakdown, and that was something that our clients had previously said was fundamentally important to them.

I didn’t like the feeling of questioning myself when it came to Kyle. Giving him the benefit of the doubt meant that I had to own up to it that I was being too hard on him… and, that I’d been slacking in my own job performance. That wasn’t a good feeling, and so, instead, I focused on getting myself riled up again by remembering that Kyle had, first of all, made me go into the office instead of working from home, and then secondly, might have made me stay in the office with him during this horrible weather! That was plenty to get me ticked off at him all over again!

Especially since by the time I got home, the weather was getting extreme, and rock hard ice and snow was blowing sideways off the water. I hadn’t been so happy to be home in my small, snug little apartment in a long time! But I was even happier that no matter what happened with either the storm or my career, I didn’t have to see Mr. Kyle Campbell ever again unless I wanted to!

I took a long, hot shower and completely indulged in it, even taking time to give myself a facial and shave everything on my body that was getting fuzzy. After my shower, I was totally ready to unwind and start researching how to apply for one of the MBA programs in New York City. I put on my comfiest pajamas: an oversized white sleep tee with a huge Daffy Duck printed on it that Natalia had given me as a gag gift.

I wrapped my hair in a big towel, streamed my favorite playlist on Spotify, and got out a huge wine glass and a bottle of chilled white. As I stood at my sink uncorking the wine bottle and pouring myself a glass, I took a look out my kitchen window. The weather was so brutal that in just the past hour since I’d arrived home, the entire world had gone white! The streets were completely invisible and I couldn’t even see the neighboring buildings!

I plopped down on my living room sofa with my laptop and started typing up my resignation email. Out of habit, I started out by analyzing the merits and the pros and cons for what I needed to write in my opinion, and then, literally laughed out loud; that job and working for Kyle had me so conditioned that I was about to turn my own resignation into a fricking marketing report! I started over and simply typed Kyle’s email address in the To line, and the words “I quit” into the Subject line. I couldn’t help smiling; it all felt very cathartic.

Before I could click send, there was a loud, banging knock at my front door. I turned down my music, even though I knew it couldn’t be my neighbors; I wasn’t playing the music that loud and the walls between our units were thick. The banging continued. I grumbled under my breath and set my wine and laptop aside as I got up. “Just a second,” I shouted, as I straightened the hem of my sleep tee and undid my wet hair from my towel turban. It fell in a wavy, sideways flop down my back as I undid my door latch. “Who is it?” I asked through the crack between the latch and the door.

“Do you always just open your door like that?” the person on the other side fussed incredulously.

He didn’t need to announce himself. “Kyle?” As perplexed as I was that he was at my home, I was also completely irritated and unnerved. “What the hell do you want?” He wasn’t my boss anymore: no need to continue with the fake niceties.

“Well, for one thing, I’d like to talk to you without shouting at you through a door. And another thing, I’d also like for you to be more judicious about opening your door in the first place!”

“Too late for either of those things,” I snapped back, unsure whether my quip landed but hoping its intended snarkiness would nonetheless come across. “You’ve already had a million chances to talk to me at work, and you fucked them all up!”

“Then why not give me one more chance. You’re an analyst; analyze it. What’s one more chance in the scope of a million?”

I couldn’t think of a decent reply and punched the air as I unlatched the door and opened it slightly so that we could look at each other. He was gorgeous, as always; his suit, though dusted with some ice particles, looked like it was simply part of his DNA, like a cheetah’s spots, and his dark hair and smoldering chocolate-brown eyes were captivating. His presence always made me feel a little vulnerable; but in that moment, the disparity between our appearances made me particularly aware of how silly I looked, with my wet blonde hair dripping everywhere and soaking my oversized tee. I leaned against the door in a power stance that I hoped demonstrated how immovable I was. “So? Talk.”

He looked me over and then looked down the empty corridor before asking, “Here? In the hallway?”

I chucked my chin defiantly. “The only thing you demanded was to not have to shout through a door.”

His gaze softened and damn me if he didn’t look even more handsome, as well as amused at my response. “Your hallway is freezing. And if one of your neighbors walks by, he’s going to get an eyeful. So, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me come inside to talk to you.” I was so taken aback by his politeness that I didn’t have any retort and simply moved aside and opened the door so he could come in. As I closed the door, he took off his snow and ice encrusted leather shoes and set them neatly to the side so he wouldn’t track muddy melting ice into my living room. When I turned to him, I didn’t miss his quick, head-to-toe assessment of me and my attire. “Um, Daphne, before we talk, would you mind putting something else on?”

To be perfectly honest, I’d been planning to do exactly that when I let him into my home. I’d felt a flicker of embarrassment standing in front of Kyle wearing nothing but my sleep tee and a thin pair of panties, and in the short span of our conversation, my wet hair had already soaked the back and shoulders of my tee shirt. I could feel the chill from patches of water that had seeped the front of my tee, too, and felt my nipples starting to harden from the sensation. If Kyle hadn’t asked me to, I totally would have excused myself to go get dressed in something less revealing!

But because he asked me, I was irritated and defiant! I put my hands on my hips in a way that pulled the thin fabric of the tee even tighter across the curves of my body and struck a pose. “No. You’re the one intruding on my personal space, Kyle. If you don’t want to see me in my P-Js, then you’re more than welcome to leave.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fair enough,” he sighed, “You left the office before revising that report. I tried calling you multiple times and you didn't answer. This is an important account; I can’t just leave things up in the air until you feel like responding to me.”

“Well. Then, let me clear things up for you: I quit,” I replied, succinctly and resolutely.

I was flabbergasted when Kyle literally rolled his eyes at me! “You can’t quit,” he said as if I’d just told a really terrible joke and he was breaking down where I’d missed the mark! His reaction made me even more frustrated as he added, “Look, Daphne, we need to finish this report. If the ice storm continues, then—”

“We don’t need to do anything anymore. I just told you: I quit! So, whatever you need to do to satisfy your clients by Friday and keep them as clients on Monday is now your own problem.”

It was clear from the clench of his jaw that he recognized I was throwing his criticizing words back in his face. He took a slow, deep breath and then said, “Well, this is the first I’m hearing that you quit today. I didn’t receive any notice of it. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered you. I just thought you were working from home.” His tone was dismissive, as if he’d really made the trip all the way to Long Island City to let me know that he didn’t need me working on his accounts! I wanted to gloat at that; but in reality, it made me feel rather sad to think that Kyle didn’t actually need me.

“I was just about to click ‘send’ on an email advising you and HR,” I replied, trying to sound equally detached and bored.

Kyle didn’t say anything for a long moment, but I could nonetheless see the gears churning in his overly-analytical brain. In our industry, he was famous for that. Kyle Campbell was well known for coming up with outlandishly creative and effective solutions, practically on the spot. It seemed he was now standing in my home and trying to do exactly that. His nostrils flared as he heaved a resigned sigh and quietly asked, “Why, exactly, are you resigning, Daphne? And why now?”

He sounded plaintive and concerned; and perhaps, to a woman who didn’t know him as well as I did, he might have sounded contrite. But I’d worked with Kyle Campbell for five years. I knew him, and I knew his tactics! I’d heard him use that very same tone asking those very same questions dozens of times when placating irate clients!

I knew that Kyle was just trying to figure out how to win me over! I was so irritated that I laughed in my frustration. “Are you serious Kyle? You’re trying to give me a soft sell, and pretend that you’re ready to ‘hear me’, and ‘understand my needs’ so you can better accommodate them going forward? Like I’m some marketing account?

“I don’t feel like rehashing the past five years. I’m tired of feeling unappreciated. I’m tired of being treated like I’m inept and stupid. So, I quit: end of story. I don’t work for the company any more, or for you, and I’m never going back to that office.”

“What would it take to convince you to come back?” he asked, as if he literally hadn't heard a single effing thing I’d just said to him! That was typical Kyle. It didn’t matter to him how many times a client said ‘no’, or how many times a focus-group said they didn’t like an ad—Kyle would just keep after it until he wore down any opposition to his ideas. In business, he seemed to get off by doing that. And now, that was exactly what he was trying to do to me!

I growled loudly, frustratedly. “You’re… completely impossible, Kyle,” I fussed as I pointed to the door. “If you just came here trying to convince me to come back to work, you’re barking up the wrong tree. It’s not going to happen. You should just—”

Before I could tell Kyle to leave, a soft draining sound whirled around my apartment and we were enveloped in darkness. “What the hell,” I groaned. I reached out in the darkness, feeling for a nearby wall, and instead collided with the wall of Kyle’s chest. He put his arm around me before I toppled.

“Your power’s out, obviously,” he muttered. Of course: leave it to Kyle to even be smug and insulting to me in my own home, in the middle of a storm and during an unexpected black out! “Something probably went down with the storm.” A second later, the flashlight of his phone flicked on. “Here,” he said, handing me the bright stream of light and letting me go, “do you have a flashlight or some candles somewhere?”

I nodded dumbly as my irritation faded away with the disappointment of him letting me go. “There’s a floodlight flashlight on top of the fridge.” I held Kyle’s phone up so that he’d have some faint light as he wandered across my open layout living-dining area and into the kitchen. He was so tall that he didn’t have to reach to retrieve the flashlight.

The entire living room and kitchen were illuminated with an odd, shadowy glow as he turned it on and set it on top of my dining table. I got my gas-stove lighter from the kitchen and lit the scented ambience candles that were part of my living room decor. While I did that, Kyle took advantage of the distraction and sank into a comfortable seat on my living room sofa. He even took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie!

“Um, don’t make yourself too comfortable. Isn’t there somewhere else you need to be? Like headed home?”

His handsome face was a shadowed blur as my eyes adjusted to the faint glow around us. “Can’t. My car is probably buried by now.”

“I didn’t know you drove to work. Must be nice.”

“Not really,” he chuckled. “Unless you love sitting in traffic with ten thousand other assholes every morning, driving in New York’s a bitch.” I’d never heard Kyle cuss or crack a joke and was totally taken aback! “I only do it cause I live on Long Island, and the parking and toll comps make it cheaper than taking the railroad.”

“How efficient,” I dead panned.

Kyle gave me an unplaceable look as he rocked back in his seat to pick up a photo frame from my sofa table. The frame had Daffy Duck reliefs on it, and it was a photo of my sister and me on our recent vacation. He studied it a moment before asking, “This is Natalia, right? How’s she doing; isn't this her last year in medical school?”

I was totally shocked and speechless! Not only did Kyle remember my sister’s name, but he also remembered the few details I’d mentioned about her! What was going on?!?

“Yeah, she’s actually doing her clinicals right now. She’s doing her rotation in neurology. She really likes it.”

Kyle hummed under his breath. “This photo is from when the two of you were in Santorini last summer?” I nodded, and a moment later, he asked, “It’s a nice picture; why is it in this crappy Looney Tunes frame?”

Ugh. Of course Kyle had to say something dumb and snarky; he could never just be nice. I snatched the photo out of his hands as I explained, “If you must know: my sister calls me ‘Daffy.’ It's been her nickname for me since we were little kids. She had a lisp so she couldn’t say ‘Daphne’.”

To my complete amazement, Kyle’s face lit up and he laughed out loud, genuinely and delightedly. “That’s so adorable!” he exclaimed as he sat back in a power position with his legs crossed and arms spread across the length of the sofa cushions.

He rested his temple against his rolled fist and looked me over in the dim light, unabashedly taking his time studying me. I wondered how I looked to him, with the dark blonde of my still damp hair catching reflective light, and the shadows of the floodlight falling across my face. Somehow, the random pattern of shadows and light cast from the floodlight seemed to love Kyle and highlighted his best features in a way that was mesmerizing and sexy all at the same time. The floodlight glimmered in his chocolate-brown eyes as his stare lingered dreamily on my breasts.

“So that’s why there’s a big Daffy Duck on your sleep shirt. And you wear that ugly thing because your sister gave it to you, and you love and miss her.” His gaze drifted to my face and he looked at me like a logic puzzle he'd finally solved. “And you're quitting because you’re embarrassed. For whatever reason, you feel like you haven’t done your best in being a big sister she’ll be proud of.”

Kyle’s laser-focused ability to cut through to fodder and find consumers’ subconscious, underlying motivations for purchasing products was what made him such a superstar phenom in the advertising world. But in my world—in the sanctuary of my little, snug apartment—his assessment was completely unwelcome! I hoped that he could see the fury on my face as my brows knitted angrily.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to come by my home and start acting like you’re going to psychoanalyze me?” But I couldn’t help an uneasy, punch-in-the-gut feeling that he was completely right. I was embarrassed of being the screw-up in my family. I wasn’t proud of myself; I didn't think my parents were proud of me either. I wanted to at least make Natalia proud of me.

Kyle’s tone was mocking and challenging. “I never realized you’re so vulgar, Daphne.”

“I’ve always been this way. You’ve just never paid any attention. In fact, here’s a last one for the road: fuck you, Kyle,” I said as I held up a middle finger in the glow of the floodlight. “I don’t give a fuck where you go, but you’re not waiting out the storm here with me. Please leave.”

“You’re being childish.” A faint smile lifted the sides of his mouth. He was talking down to me, and actually thought the whole situation was funny!

“And you’re being a dick, as per uzhe. Kiss my ass.” I stood up and took a cautious, unlit step towards my front door, ready to grab him by the collar and toss him out of my apartment, Uncle Phil-style, if he refused to just get up and leave of his own accord.

But his words stopped me: “Is that what it will take?”