Chapter 2
The exact moment
The scene, as it happened.
The meeting happens over a video call. He shows me my colleagues' feedback, even though he's not supposed to. Too professional. Too distant. Not creative enough. I don't dig beneath the surface. I don't share enough of what I know about sales—a media plan shared too late with an important client. Liars. When? Which client? My clients love me because they know how passionate I am about my job. "Can you give me examples?" I ask him. "Can you prove it, point by point? Because I'm delivering. I bring in revenue. My figures are more than good. And when have I ever refused to educate someone about my strategies? Certainly never a client." He doesn't answer. As a director, he says, he doesn't need to justify himself. English isn't my first language. I know that. It’s never been an issue with my clients. If something needs improving, give me an example. What I can't accept is being fed excuses instead of the truth. "Yes, but you don't make an effort with your colleagues," he says. "You don't go to the pub with them. You don't have lunch with them." One Thursday a month, they wanted us to spend the evening drinking. I wanted to go home to my family. And lunch? First, they eat at 12, and I eat at 1pm. Second, I don't want to talk during my lunch break—it's my me-time. Last point: until I arrived, they all ate together at noon. I did it twice, then I started saying no, and people followed. Thanks to me, everyone now eats when and wherever they want. Oh, sorry. I didn't realise Thursday-night drinking was part of my performance review. He continues: I don't listen enough to people's personal lives. I'm close to the colleagues I trust. With everyone else, I'm polite. Then the positive comments: professional, dedicated. "See?" he says. "That proves you're selective. Some people have been working with you for more than two years, and you know nothing about them. So you won't be getting promoted." In a few weeks, I'm moving my family abroad based on a promise. Yet here I am, listening to my progression turning on whether I go drinking with colleagues. This is punishment for not being intimidated by him, for keeping boundaries he doesn't like. They're taking food out of my children's mouths. I'm furious that pubs and lunches can carry more weight than the work I deliver. He can finish this call and get on with his day. I have to carry his decision into our move and our family budget. I'm not a violent person, but I'm grateful we were in remote.
