“So I’m the problem?” I say like it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
“You think I am?” She stands so abruptly that the action sends her chair barreling backward into the wall. “All I did was buy donuts for your employees and you think that’s justification to come in here and talk to me like this?”
“You said they were from me. Why?”
“Because they are from you. I paid for them using the company account.” She gives me that look, the one she does when she’s digging her heels in and letting me know that I’m not going to win.
“You did what?”
“Your men deserve a nice treat every now and again.”
“And you thought buying things for my men, spendingmycompany’s money, would accomplish what, exactly?”
“I thought it would boost morale.”
“Boost morale?” I say in disbelief, finally seeing this for what it is. She’s goading me. She’s trying to provoke me.
“Well, I certainly didn’t think it’d hurt.”
“Were you even thinking about the morale of my employees at all or were you thinking of ways you could piss me off? I’m going to say it’s the latter.”
“Why do you always assume the worst in people?”
“Because generally that’s how it pans out.”
“Are you about done crying over a few donuts? Because I have actual work to do.”
“You’re right, you do, and you can start by working off all the donuts you just bought without clearing it with me first. Because make no mistake, that money will be coming out of your next paycheck.”
“What next paycheck? I won’t be here long enough to earn one.” She tugs open the desk drawer and retrieves her purse. Without a word, she stomps around her desk, making a beeline toward the door. I manage to cut her off just before she reaches it.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Get out of my way, Penn.”
“No,” I state flatly.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She grits her teeth. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“So you’re just giving up? I’m sensing a theme here. You gave up on us. Gave up on dance. It would make sense that you’d give up on this too. You never were one to hack it when things got too hard.”
Her entire expression shifts as she steps back, looking at me like I’ve just run over her dog with my truck... That is, if she had a dog.
“Is that what you think? That I gave up on dance? That I couldn’t cut it, so I quit?”
“Seems the most reasonable explanation.” I struggle to keep my feet planted, the urge to pull her into my arms and soothe away the pained look on her face almost more than I can bear.
“Shows how little you ever really knew me if that’s what you think. Now please move. I’d like to leave.”
“Your shift is far from over.”
“I don’t care. I quit.”
“Quitting when things get too tough... And here you just said that I didn’t know you and yet you’re proving me right at every turn.”
“You know what, you win. I’m a quitter. I’m a horrible person. I deserve every bit of anger you throw at me. I deserve all of this. Does that make you happy?”
“You lost the ability to make me happy when you walked away.”
