I was beginning to adapt to my boss’s side-lining plan, this being my punishment for ‘getting pregnant’, as she refers to my state of pending motherhood, when she yelled, ‘don’t forget you’re helping me with the interviews tomorrow, 7am start’.
This being her first mention of the request, I was none too pleased, but not surprised, at the implication that I might have ‘already forgotten’. So much for me being allowed to ‘take it easy’ then, as she’d previously promised.
Dodging the waves of morning sickness, I managed to trudge into work the next day, arriving just in time to start the interview. But by 8.30am, my boss still hadn’t arrived, seems she’d still managed to forget, in spite of having known about the early start for several weeks.
Just before I pressed on with the interview on my own, I sent an SMS message to a friend, or so I thought, saying that I was ‘still waiting for the bitch to arrive’.
After the interview, my friend called me and it was obvious that she hadn’t received the SMS message, and that’s when I realised my ‘crime’.
I’d sent the message to my boss in error, an easy, but deadly mistake in light of my boss’s name starting with the same letter as my friend’s name.
Panicking that my boss would know that I’d sent the message and would therefore have ‘evidence’ of my feelings towards her, I checked the company’s contact’s list to be sure that my ‘personal mobile’ number wasn’t listed. It wasn’t, and thankfully there were a lot of people in the office still waiting on her arrival. I prayed that I would be able to mingle into the masses of like-minded people regarding her ‘bitch’ status, and never get found out.
When my boss finally arrived at lunchtime, she kicked off her day in style, ‘he should think himself lucky that he was interviewed at all’, I overheard her telling the recruitment agent, who’d obviously had the ‘temerity’ to enquire as to why my boss hadn’t been there to conduct the interview herself.
The rest of the day was sheer torture, I wondered had she somehow guessed that the message had been from me, although, with her normal ‘slapped- arse’ face on, it was pretty difficult to tell.
Finally, at the end of the day I was enlightened as to my fate, when I received a somewhat disturbing SMS message from her mobile number saying ‘is that you Hugo*, the bitch likes this game, come see me tonight’.
Revolted at this insight into her sex life, I didn’t know whether to run straight home and shower off the feeling of repulse, or cry with relief that I’d gotten away with it.
Thank god for ‘company mobile phones’ and mental note to self, make sure my boss never, ever has my ‘personal mobile’ number as I don’t think my nerves could handle another day like that one.
*name has been changed to protect my career.