It was only my first day, but Mr. Locan had already managed to bury me under an avalanche of work. I was practically a yo-yo, bouncing back and forth between the first floor and his penthouse office on the thirtieth, all for the sake of fetching him coffee. If I didn't desperately need this job, I wouldn't have tolerated being bossed around by that… jerk. Did he actually think that just because I was following his ridiculous orders, I'd forgotten his behavior on the jeepney? Not a chance.
"You need to familiarize yourself with these files," he said, his attention glued to his laptop screen. "Memorize their names and faces. They'll be joining us for the meeting next week." I had to take two long strides just to reach the folder he slid across the desk. He was dead serious about that one-meter rule, starting today. Unbelievable!
"Yes, Sir," I replied, my voice tight with suppressed annoyance. He didn't even bother to look up from his screen. A few minutes later, he took a long sip of his coffee, only to find his cup empty. He glanced at me, then subtly, yet pointedly, nudged the cup towards me, making it clear that I needed to trek all the way down to the first floor for a refill. It wouldn't have been so bad if it were quick and easy, but no, Mr. Locan was too good for a simple coffee maker or even a hot water dispenser in his office. Tsk. And, of course, I was the one who had to pay the price.
"Sir, that's your fourth cup already," I blurted out before I could stop myself. It wasn't that I was complaining, exactly, but it was the truth. His coffee consumption was bordering on excessive. And then came the familiar, icy glare that could freeze hell over. "Rule number two—" He started to recite his ridiculous rules, but I cut him off, my patience finally snapping.
"Rule number two: you are not allowed to talk back unless I said so. I know, Sir, I know," I said, barely managing to suppress an eye roll. He fell silent, his jaw tight, and gave a curt nod. "Good," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.
Sensing my hesitation, he raised his gaze to meet mine, his expression impatient and demanding.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving. I rolled my eyes inwardly, taking a deep breath to control my temper. "I'm going, I'm going," I said, turning to leave the office.
As I headed downstairs, I ran into Ms. Gada, who seemed to be waiting for me. "Give this to Mr. Locan," she said, handing me a pristine white folder. "He just needs to sign it."
"Okay," I replied, taking the folder and forcing a smile. I quickly made a fresh pot of coffee for my grumpy, demanding boss. As I stepped into the elevator, who should join me but Gael, my ever-helpful cousin.
"Oh, how's your first day going?" she asked, cheerfully pressing the button for the floor we were both heading to.
"It's a complete disaster," I confessed, adjusting the flimsy cardboard carrier holding the precious coffee.
"What's that?" she asked after the elevator doors slid shut, her eyes focused on the carrier.
"Coffee for the monster," I replied, my voice flat and devoid of any enthusiasm.
"For the boss?" she asked, and I simply nodded, too tired to elaborate. "Huh? Won't it be cold by the time you get to his office? Why are you even making it all the way down here? There's a perfectly good coffee machine on the thirtieth floor!" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
I gave her an incredulous look, my frustration reaching a boiling point. "Ask him, he refuses to have a heater in his office, and he never told me about the coffee machine on the thirtieth floor!" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You idiot! You can make coffee in the next room, near Mr. Locan's office! That's where he usually has his coffee made!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"What?!" My jaw practically dropped, and I felt my face flush with anger. That jerk! He was deliberately making my life difficult, enjoying my suffering. All this time, I could have been making the coffee right there on the thirtieth floor, and I was running back and forth from the first floor like a complete fool. I felt my blood start to boil, and I gripped the cardboard carrier so tightly I was afraid I would crush it. That Locan guy was really going to get a piece of my mind.
When I finally reached the thirtieth floor, I practically flew down the hallway towards my boss's office, my anger propelling me forward.
I found him standing near the enormous window in his office, bathed in the soft afternoon light, talking on the phone, his hand casually tucked into his pocket. The nerve of this guy! He was actually laughing and smiling while he had his back to me, completely oblivious to the turmoil he had caused. What was so funny?
I waited impatiently for him to finish his call, then watched as he turned to face me, his expression calm and composed. I marched towards him, my movements stiff with barely suppressed rage, and slammed the coffee down on his desk with more force than necessary. "Here's your coffee, Sir," I said, my voice tight with barely concealed anger.
He simply nodded, unfazed by my obvious agitation, and took a long sip of the coffee, his eyes closing for a moment. "Weak," he said, his tone critical and dismissive. I had to clench my fists to keep myself from exploding, to prevent myself from saying something I would later regret.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but someone told me to go all the way down to the first floor to make the coffee, even though I could have made it in the room right next door. So, of course, it's going to be weak by the time it gets all the way up here to the thirtieth floor. Yes, the thirtieth floor," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, each word carefully enunciated. I wanted him to know exactly how much I resented his behavior.
He suddenly put down his coffee cup, his expression unreadable.
"Oh right," he said, his voice nonchalant and devoid of any emotion. "I forgot that you could make coffee in the next room." He acted like it was no big deal, like he hadn't deliberately made my life miserable all morning.
"It's okay, Sir, it's not tiring at all," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, barely managing to keep it from sounding like a full-blown insult.
"Good to hear," he replied, his words only fueling my anger further. Instead of complaining, I chose to remain silent. "Is that for me?" he suddenly asked, noticing the white folder I was holding. I took a deep breath before handing it to him. "Ms. Gada asked me to give it to you; she needs your signature there," I said.
He opened it and examined the contents. After a moment, he glanced at his wristwatch.
"You can go home," he ordered before tidying up his things and standing up. Thank goodness it was almost six o'clock. "Don't be late tomorrow," he added.
"You can go home," he ordered, gathering his things and standing up. Thank goodness, it was almost six o'clock. "Don't be late tomorrow," he added, his voice a low warning.
I just nodded curtly, grabbed my purse, and practically ran out of the office, desperate to escape his presence. I couldn't wait to go home, to vent my frustrations to Gael, and to try to forget the events of this disastrous first day. I had a feeling that working for Mr. Locan was going to be a challenge, to say the least. And I wasn't sure I was up for it.