I waited for her snarky comeback. She slowly exhaled. “Your business. What’s next?”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“I have plenty of suggestions.”
I didn’t have to wonder what those might be. I was sure most of them involved something going up my ass. “We’ll start with this and we’ll see how things go. I imagine productivity will increase and we’ll see the difference by the end of the week. Two weeks tops.”
“You really think destroying employee morale is going to make them work harder?”
“I’m not destroying anything,” I insisted. “I’m implementing successful strategies. People who talk and eat all day are not working. Do we really want coffee stains on tax paperwork? Jelly donut stains or greasy fingerprints? Come on, Saige. This place is seriously lacking in the professionalism department.”
She was probably going to kill me if I said another word. “Thank goodness you came in when you did. I can’t imagine how we would have gone on without your expertise.”
She could be sarcastic all she wanted. It wasn’t going to change my opinion of the office and what I had seen thus far. “I’ll be watching.”
“Good to know. Exactly how long do you plan on being here?”
“Here? As in the office?”
“Yes,” she said tightly. “Will you be gracing us with your presence on a regular basis?”
“It almost sounds like you want me to leave,” I said and was barely able to hold back my smile. I was having too much fun teasing her.
“Of course not,” she said with a great deal of sarcasm.
“I’m meeting a decorator today.”
“A decorator?” she asked.
“For my office,” I answered.
“Your office. Do you plan on working in the office here?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?” she asked with gritted teeth.
“Until things are straightened out and I’m confident I can leave the running of things in your very capable hands.”
She slowly nodded. “Well, I’d hate to make you late for your meeting with your decorator.”
She was actually dismissing me. That took balls. I admired that. “I’ll have the breakroom taken care of by the end of the day.”
“Suit yourself.”
I got to my feet, ready to leave. She stopped me at the door. “What do you plan to do with the stuff in the breakroom right now?” she asked.
I turned to look at her. I shrugged and shook my head. “I suppose it’ll go in the trash.”
She flinched before narrowing her gaze. “That’s definitely the right thing to do.”
I knew she was being sarcastic once again. I didn’t bother replying. I walked out and slowly made my way toward my new office. I felt the eyes on me. I knew they were all watching and waiting. It was good for the people who worked for you to have a healthy fear of you. I wanted them worried. Some of them needed to be afraid.
I opened the office door and cringed. The furniture was still there, along with the tackiest picture I’d ever seen. I resisted the urge to jerk it off the wall and stomp all over it. I didn’t want the employees to think I was a lunatic.
I wished I would have brought my laptop. I had not intended to stay this morning, but I couldn’t leave now. I’d thrown down a gauntlet and I was not about to lose.
I pulled out my phone and made a call to my assistant at headquarters. After checking in, I leaned back in the horrible chair. The decorator was coming soon. It couldn’t be soon enough. I killed time by checking email and making a few phone calls. I felt like I had become the prisoner. I couldn’t leave the office. Doing so would admit defeat.
When the decorator finally showed up, I felt like she was breaking me out of my cell. After a short conversation with the decorator, who I gave explicit instructions to tear out everything and make it look new, I left the building.
I breathed a sigh of relief, thrilled to be out of the office. I was used to being disliked, but the animosity I felt in that place was intense. It was because of her.
I could give a shit about the rest of them. The looks from her were what had unsettled me. I shouldn’t care, but there was just a strange feeling I couldn’t shake.
Chapter 9
Saige
When I walked into work, it was with a feeling of dread. I used to love my job. I used to enjoy coming in early and making myself a cup of coffee while catching up with the other early birds. I didn’t feel that way today. All night, I tossed and turned and mulled over the things he said. I even took the time to review the financials, at least as much as I could. I didn’t have full access, but I knew we were doing fine. It was insulting to me and to every person who worked under me to insinuate we were lazy.
I stopped walking and stared at the men standing in my office. They were pushing desks out of the way and making a general mess of things. “Excuse me!” I said in a loud voice.
The men stopped and looked at me. “What?” one of them asked with a typical New Yorker accent.
“What are you doing?”
“We got a work order to install cubicles,” he said.
“Right now?” I asked. “We start work in ten minutes. You can’t be doing this right now.”
“The order said first thing this morning,” he argued.
Lana came in behind me. “Are we being robbed?” she asked.
“No, apparently we’re being imprisoned.”
“What?”
I shook my head. I was going to have to explain everything, but right then, I had more important things to deal with. I stepped forward and approached who I was going to assume the boss was. “Look, I understand you have a work order, and I can appreciate that. However, we are in the middle of one of the busiest tax seasons we’ve ever had. Is there any way you can come back at the end of the day? Please?”
“I’m sorry, miss, but we’ve got a job to do.”
“Sir, I understand that, but if you continue to do your job during business hours, we cannot do our jobs. You are moving desks around and unplugging computers. We can’t work without our computers.”
“Miss, I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Look, we’ll cut out early. You can come in at three and charge the guy that ordered the work overtime.”
That seemed to intrigue him. “I don’t know.”
“Trust me, he’ll be okay with it. I’m the manager here and I have his permission to make these decisions. We lose thousands of dollars if we can’t work today. Clients risk filing their taxes late and that results in fees that will be devastating to some of our clients.”
He looked like he was considering it. “I need to call the client.”
“I’m speaking for your client,” I said. “I’m clearing it for you. Be back here at three and the office is all yours. You’ll earn overtime.”
His guys were clearly liking the idea of overtime. “All right. We’ll be back here at three. I can’t afford to wait a minute after.”
“That’s fine. It will be all yours.”
“All right, guys, let’s go.”