Page 1 of My Boss

“Ms. Maria Gabara?”

I lift my head and encounter a pair of gray eyes—their cold stare measures me up and down. From the few wrinkles on his forehead and the stern expression on his face, I judge him to be around forty. A strong jaw, clean-shaven, neatly combed hair, hard gaze, firmly closed lips. Even though he stands a few feet away from me, I can smell his masculine fragrance—classic, powerful and elegant—the kind that makes my lower abdomen tingle.

I slide my eyes over the impeccably tailored gray suit that fits perfectly on his sturdy frame. No crease, no folds, no mismatch. Flawless—as if straight from the showroom. And to top it off, a white shirt, cufflinks, a stylish watch (an antique if my eyes are correct), a faultless black tie knot, tailored pants with a crisp crease, and shiny shoes. The guy is tall as an oak in a century-old forest, and even though I’m not short, I have to tilt my head to look into his eyes. There’s an air of distance and gravitas emanating from them, so that it’s almost intimidating to speak up. I guess that this is my new boss. He looks like a boss—he stands out from the crowd.

“That’s right. Mr. Jan Engler?”

All I hear is a grunt.

Well, I guess it was a ‘yes’.

“Very nice to meet you.” I extend my hand, but he doesn’t even look at it.

“You are to be at the office every morning at eight on the dot and not a minute later,” he declares firmly, adjusts his tie, and then walks away, apparently considering our conversation concluded.

No good morning, welcome to our company, here is your desk, here is your computer, have a nice job, kiss my ass…

What a jerk. Why the hell did he come up with such a ‘greeting’ when I wasn’t even a minute late today? After all, I was in the office by five to eight! Which is quite an achievement for me, given that I’m more of a night owl than an early bird.

A wonderful start to the day and the end of the year. Not only am I stressed about the career changes, but I apparently jumped from the frying pan into the fire. In my previous job in a small consulting firm, I was a finance clerk with no chance of a promotion or a raise. The boss was polite and tried to be nice (or at least gave the appearance of it). Here, on the other hand, at the start I got a 1,700 PLN raise, an independent position as a senior specialist and a medical care package. And everything would have been fucking perfect if it weren’t for the fact that right from the start, the boss treated me like I was just a lace on his elegant shoes. Supposedly necessary, but until it’s untied, no one pays any attention to it.

OK, no stress, no need to dramatize. Maybe he just had a bad hair day. It happens to everyone, and it’s just a shame that I was the target. I can only hope that my boss will not turn out to be a total boor.

But he turns out to be one. And on the first day. There is a reason why it is said that you can’t judge a book by its cover. My boss may attract attention with his gorgeous appearance, but his manner is off-putting. No introduction to work, zero explanations of what, where, how and when. Instead, dozens of messages in the mailbox and one sentence in the last eleven hours (yep, the prick immediately roped me into overtime!).

“I sent you an e-mail. It’s urgent.” His voice is gruff when he passes my desk. The jerk doesn’t even stop. He heads with a springy step toward the elevator, spreading an annoyingly masculine smell around. I want to ignore him, but I can’t. I involuntarily feel a strange arousal, and I’m mad at myself. Because firstly: older men don’t turn me on, and my boss is about ten years older than me. Secondly: I can’t stand such stiffs. Thirdly: he’s my supervisor, and it’s my first day at the company.

The sound of an incoming message rings in my ears. I open the mailbox.

Great, damn, it’s here. A dry-as-a-bone e-mail. Another one! Well, I won’t be able to get through all those attachments by my vacation.

Screw it. I need a break.

I head to the social room. I try to walk confidently, passing by new coworkers who are so absorbed in their work at the computers that they don’t pay attention to me. And it’s a good thing, too, because my gait is not exactly poised. I’m not used to a pencil skirt, jacket and stilettos. However, I had to make a good first impression and fit in with the company’sdress code, which I was told about during a conversation with an HR person. She made it clear to me that business attire was mandatory in the office, then handed me a bundle of cards with the rules and regulations, which I was supposed to sign along with the contract. I’ll be honest with you: I didn’t read what I signed. For how was I supposed to do that when the woman was sitting across from me, poking me with an impatient gaze saying, “Well, sign it already and get it over with; I still have a pile of work to do today.”

So, trying to look intelligent, I skimmed the text, as they do in legal shows, and with a sweeping motion, I scrawled my signature, hoping that I hadn’t just donated a kidney for atransplant. I may be great at counting, but reading is something I much prefer to do with novels than contracts.

“Excellent. Welcome aboard,” I heard as soon as I put down my pen.

“That’s all? It was fast.”

“Fast?” The HR woman looked at me, surprised. “But you went through a five-step recruitment process.”

Fact. They did put me through the wringer a bit.

“Well, yes, but I just did some tests, and the interview with you…”

“Did you expect anything more?”

“No, no. I just thought I was still waiting to talk to her—to my supervisor.”

“Him,” corrected the woman. “Mr. Engler does not conduct hiring interviews. He relies entirely on our department for recruitment. You passed very well the four initial stages of selection, for which I was responsible. I recommended you and sent to your superior the test results, and based on those, he made the decision to hire you as a senior finance specialist.”

“Test results? What about my experience, competences, personality… He doesn’t care about them?”

“He prefers facts, concrete data and figures. Assessing soft skills is our job. Do you have any more questions?”

Yes, how many coffee and cigarette breaks was I entitled to during the day?

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