I woke up in my bed the next day. I had no recollection of even leaving bridgette's office and entering my apartment. The last thing I remembered, was gritting my teeth as my upper and lower body were alternately marched into the floor by my gigantic 24 year old supervisor.


I made an attempt to roll over, but found that my body felt like it had been ran over by a freight train. . . . The pounding migraine in my head told me that I was calling in sick today. . . . Definitely.


A half hour later, I peeled myself out of bed and collapsed onto the couch on my living room. For the first time, I glanced at my phone.


[8:28 A.M. 2-15-18]


Fuck!. . . .only a half hour to get to the-


Wait. . . . .the 15th?


. . . . .yesterday was the 10th. . . . . I fucking know it was.


As I glanced around my apartment, trying to keep my sanity, I noticed a sticky note that wasn't on my fridge before.


"What the fuck?" I said under my breath.


Walking over to it, I saw that it had the company logo on it. Confused, I snatched it off the door and read it.


[You're on vacation time until you come back. You have 5 days saved. 2-10-18]


I crumpled up the note and slammed it on the floor. I knew it was bridgette's hand writing and it pissed me off immediately. The more I thought about it, the more angry I became.


"That fucking bitch!" I shouted as I sat down at computer. "How does she think that she can squash me into next week literally, then force me to use MY vacation time to recover from the fucking coma! She isn't getting away with this."

At this point, I wasn't thinking clearly. I smashed through company files on my computer, searching for anything that I could use to start my revenge. It was then when I came across the file copy of my contract. I held the mouse over it for a few seconds, pondering, before I moved on and kept searching.


Finally I came across something I might be able to use. . . Bridgette's employee file. Just then, my phone went off, signalling I had a new email on my company email address. I tapped on it and saw that it was a memo on company policy and synergy. That alone was enough to make me sicker than I already was, but then I saw that it was drafted by Bridgette herself.


"Fuck that!" I said to myself, and turned back to my computer.


My heart dropped.


My account had been locked out.


I tried my password again, but it prompted an executive lock out. . . . . I thought for a second before I realized what had happened.


Bridgette was fucking with me.


It had totally slipped my mind that she could see every employee that was on the company server. When I was on the clock, it wasn't a problem, but now. . . .



I wasn't about to read through her bullshit email but I could almost guarantee it was more or less directed at me.


"Fuck!"


I knew I couldn't do this alone. The problem was, the last time, I wasn't discrete enough about recruiting help. I knew THAT couldn't happen again. The pain throughout my whole body assured me of that. In the time since I had woken up, I had looked over my body, and the bruises upon bruises were proof positive that Bridgette had no problem what so ever with flattening me into a human pancake. Whatever I was planning, would have to strike fast and hard,or the next time, I would likely be waking up in a hospital, or worse.



I turned off my computer and sat down on my couch, with my head in my hands. Who could I turn to. . . . Who else had Bridgette wronged in her first 8 months. . .


The truth was. . . . . No one really.


As much as I hat-. . . As much as I "disagreed" with her on a lot of things, she really wasn't a horrible supervisor. Her work and logic were flawless 98.3% of the time, but I think my willingness to call her out on the rest, is what got me on her radar.

The thing that gave me a narrow window of hope, is that she had made it seem that I wasn't the first person to feel her. . . .or at least a supervisors wrath. The problem is, I wasn't exactly sure who had or hadn't been "adjusted". . . But I had a solution.

For the rest of the day, I swallowed Advil and lounged around my apartment. Tomorrow was already Wednesday and I hadn't got any work done on the most recent project my section had been given. I really would have liked to think that I could rely on my subordinate, Greta Pollack, to pick up my slack, but I had a strong feeling I was going to have to chew her ass tomorrow. Not something I was looking forward to, as we never really got along, but I had to admit that we did work well together. Me, being more calculated and technical, her more free flowing and creative.


Finally around 11:30, I drifted off to sleep, with tomorrow's tasks on my mind.


I walked into the office and sat down at my desk. As to be expected. . . There was a huge stack of paperwork on it. I glanced over, and noticed that Greta was nowhere to be seen. . . . Great.


I spent the morning keeping to myself, chipping away at the easier assignments. I left the more creativity based items for Greta, setting them to the side as I sifted through for anything more I could get done before I ate my lunch.

I had just took a bite of my sandwich, when a memo popped up on my screen. Bridgette wanted to see me in her office when I was finished. . . . Jesus.

All the possible reasons she might want to see me swirled in my head, but I put it out of my mind as I finished my lunch. Outside her door, I swallowed hard, then knocked.


"Come on in!" A voice came from inside.


I stepped into the office, closing the door behind me. Turning around, I had flashbacks of the last time I was there, but I tried not to let my fear show.



Bridgette was shuffling through papers on her desk as I slowly walked up to the hover platform that brought the tiny employees up to the level of their supervisors. My stomach fluttered as the pad jump upward and stopped when it was even with her desk top.


I stepped off and on to the wooden surface where I was last smeared like a paper towel. Only then did Bridgette acknowledge me.



"Hey Marcus!" She greeted me cheerfully.


Her tone surprised me, probably more than it should have. I remained quiet.


She brushed a stray hair out of her face, then spoke.


"Have you had a chance to look at the design outline for the new deal we aquired?" She asked, all business.


I squinted my eyes in suspicion. Was she really going to act as if she hadn't squashed me into an induced coma not a week ago, just for thinking someone else might be more qualified to handle some things around here?


"Uh yeah. . . . I got a start on it. . . . The thing is, I've reached the part where Greta usually comes in. . . I haven't seen her lazy ass all morning!" I replied, not really putting as much of a filter on myself as I should have, although she made no comment on it.


"You. . . Didn't get the memo I sent out yesterday? I'm 99% sure, I had your e-mail address in there. ."



"To tell you the truth Bridgette, I saw it. . And I was GOING to skim through it, but then something came up and I haven't had time since." I lied through my teeth.


"Oh, well you should probably get on that. I need a full draft on my desk by tomorrow morning. Steph' s been up my ass about it all week, and with Samantha on vacation, it's really messed with my work flow.


Samantha on vacation? I questioned internally. Why would Samantha be using vacation days now, when the whole office knew she always saved them for her annual trip to Germany? My curiosity was peaked, but I didn't push the question. My plan was to lay low for at least a little while. Not confront anyone with whom I only stood at calf height.

"Alright Bridgette, I'll do what I can." I said as she dismissed me from her office and went back to the papers on her desk.

I tried to keep calm, but anger was welling up inside me. Greta not showing up, effectively getting me buried in work, on top of Bridgette acting like nothing had happened. . . . I'm pretty sure she was doing that intentionally just to piss me off. There was no possible way that it didn't amuse her to make me squirm.


On my way back to my cubicle, I passed my friend Monte' s desk. He always had the low down on where and why every one was gone from the work day, so it would be good to find out where both Greta and Samantha were.


"Hey Monte?" I asked, leaning over his fabricated barrier.


"What's up buddy?" He replied, in his normal fast paced style.


"You don't happen to know where Greta is today do you? Her lazy ass is totally screwing me over right now with the work load." I inquired.


"A better question is, where were you man? Just bailing on a Thursday afternoon to go on a hiking trip? Talk about living free!" He chuckled.


Hiking trip? What the fuck was he talking about?


"No Monte I wasn't-" I began but he cut me short.


"Haha I'm just giving you shit! But no, Greta has been in her office all day man." He said, pointing to an open full sized door 3 down from bridgette's.

I looked at him confused.

"You know her desk is right next to mine, over there right?" I asked him, stupidly.

"You didn't read the memo on your hiking adventure? Greta got promoted by Bridgette, that first day you were gone. She's full sized now! Pretty sweet gig. It's a new position that upper management just created for the tech and design department. She seems to really like it! You better go say hi man, she's your new boss." And with that, Monte turned back to his work.


Dread and anger rose in me in equal value. The woman I had given so much shit to over the past 2 years was now my boss. I decided that bridgette's bullshit assignments would have to wait. I made a B-line right for Greta's "new office".

I entered and a small buzzer let Greta know that a tiny person had entered her office. It was a safety precaution so that no one ironically got stepped on. Before she looked up, I looked her over.

She was wearing her standard summer dress, and flip flops. I couldn't help but fixate on her baby blue painted toe nails. It was a crazy experience, seeing someone you used to look down on, now suddenly big enough to do just about anything to you.

She looked away from her computer screen and flashed me a warm smile. Her smile was her best feature. Don't get me wrong, she was cute, in a nerdy type of way, with her big framed glasses and wavy brown hair, but her smile could ease any tension and lighten the mood in a room. Today though, it only seemed to piss me further off.

"Hey Marcus! Come to check out my new pad?" She asked enthusiastically.

I stomped over to the platform and roseto desk level. I should have played it cool, but I immediately lost it on her. Old habits die hard I guess.

"Greta! What the fuck are you doing in here?! I'm in over my head out there, because you aren't pulling your weight, like usual. I'm gone for a few days and everything gets turned upside down! I shouted at her.

The familiar frightened, timid, look that I had grown to know replaced her vibrant smile. She may have been full sized now, but I still had power over her.

"Is this how Mr. Jensen always talks to you?"

I cringed when I heard the all too familiar voice of the office HR rep, Lydia Jackson. I cursed my stupidity for not noticing her as she rose from her position in the corner of the office where she was organising books onto a little shell.

The desk shook lightly as she strode to its edge opposite Greta. I was effectively sandwiched between these giant women.

"Uh. . . .yeah. we. . . We like to joke around. . " Greta answered weakly. I knew instantly that Lydia wasn't buying it.

"Huh. . . . That IS funny, because that sounded to me, an awful lot like verbal abuse. . . . And you both know that we don't tolerate verbal abuse inside our walls. . . . So I'll ask you Greta. . . . Does Marcus verbally abuse You?"

Both my and Lydia's eyes were on her now. It looked for a moment like she would say something, but to my dismay, she only hung her head and looked away.


"That's what I thought." Lydia said with no hint of emotion in her voice. My heart dropped when I saw her pull out her referral pad. A notebook where she kept track of employee reprimands and records. She began to write.


"What. . . What do you think you're doing?" I asked her. Probably more aggressive than I should have.

She didn't even bother to look up at me as she wrote.

"You know Marcus. . . . I REALLY thought you would have learned your lesson after the little meeting you had with Bridgette last week. I mean, you took a few days off, I presumed to clear your head and start fresh. . . But as soon as you get back. . . . Here you are breaking company policy again. . . And on your brand new supervisor at that." She said as she wrote in her notepad.

Lydia looked over her referral, before handing it to Greta.

"This will be a good test for you. Your first disciplinary action. Normally, I would have you perform a verbal first, but you might as well jump in head first I think. Good luck!" Lydia said, offering no further advice before she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

I knew I didn't have much time to act. If I let her think about it for too long, Greta would start to remember all the times I was a complete asshole to her.

"Greta listen! This company. . . . It's not what you think it is. . . . Behind the scenes. . . . They-


"Marcus. . . Just stop. First of all, not all of us are so stupid as to not understand why the supervisors were huge to begin with. It's literally in every contract. . . In the fine print. . .but in there none the less!" Greta said, cutting me off.

I processed what she said, but my brain was still used to looking down on her and my mouth shot off unexpectedly.


"Greta! I know you're a little slow sometimes, but you can't honestly understand this and be ok with it!" I shouted at her.

Her left eye twitched behind the thick lense as she comprehended my brazen behavior, before her hand shot out and snatched me up.

"Slow, is mouthing off to any one who is 10 times your size and has written permission to squash you as she sees fit!" Greta shouted at me.

I knew I was in trouble. I had pushed her to this point many times before, the only difference was that before, she was only 2 or 3 inches taller than me. Most of the time, my discretion was met with a punch to the shoulder or slap to the back of the head, and a nasty verbal assault. . . . I wasn't going to be so lucky today.

Greta's right hand joined her left around my torso and they proceeded to squeeze the shit out of me. My vision went blurry, then white as she poured in pressure.

"And this on the heels of Bridgette working you over last week? You're honestly unbelievable! By the way. . . . How was your little vacation anyway?" Greta asked, laughing in my face.

She eased the pressure, allowing me to breathe just as my face was taking on another shade of blue. I gasped hard, and started coughing uncontrollably. Greta had a devilish grin as she held me up to her face.

"Oh yeah. . . . This little work arrangement is going to work out great!"