A distraught employee facing problems with coworkers

It was Celina Norman. I'd just hired her on two weeks ago, and she was working in the mailroom.

Very good at focusing single-mindedly on a task and not getting bored with it. And when you were dealing with making sure mail went into the right bins to be taken to offices, or making sure that outgoing mail got the right postage, single-minded focus and perseverance was an asset.

Unfortunately, it had also led to no end of bullying for her in school, which had shattered her self-confidence and she'd taken years to recover even enough to get to the point where she applied to Meg's posting.

One thing Meg and I had both insisted on was that if we were to be in some sort of continued managerial role, and not just talent acquisition, then anyone left on our team would be able to see us about anything, whenever they wanted, for however long they wanted, on the clock. If someone needed to cry for an hour, damn it, they'd be paid for that hour.

Which seemed to be the case now. Celina was clearly struggling to hold back tears that had likely threatened to flow the entire time it took her get from the mailroom to my office. I pushed the tissues toward her. She took one, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, took another, repeated the procedure.

"What's wrong, Celina?"

"It's, well, Ms. Cutler." Celina cut herself off. "Ashley." Both Meg and I had tried to make clear that we were to be addressed by first names, but given the lives of most of our recruits, they still had the mindset of calling superiors by title and last name--even when those superiors were their same age, or younger.

"Yes?" I prodded gently.

"It was in the mailroom. I was standing at my desk"--Celina preferred a standing desk, even though she was pretty short--"just sorting the mail. I was about to take a stack to the carts when someone came up behind me and, well... then I dropped the mail. All over the floor. I picked it up, but then I came right here." She sniffled. "Now people will get their mail late." Celina started earlier than I did and finished later, working a split shift. So she'd probably been at work for at least two hours.

"What happened, Celina?" I asked. Clearly it was something pretty bad, given her slouched posture and timid speech. "You know you can tell me anything."

Which was true. My office was private. What was said to me was for my ears alone. Meg found out about it so she could make proper remuneration decisions, everyone knew that, but aside from that nobody else had any right to know.

Celina seemed to perk up. "Well, one of the guys who hauls the carts, Frank, I guess maybe he thought he was complimenting me on a good job, but he said, 'Hey, good to see someone here can get the mail ready on time!' and gave me a good slap. Maybe he meant it for my back but he connected, well, a little low."

"He smacked you right on the ass."

"Well, um, yes."

"You know I don't mind vulgarity."

"Right. Anyway," Celina's demeanour seemed to change a little, "that asshole gave me a smack on my butt. I was so fucking shocked that I dropped the mail and got here as fast as I could after picking it up."

I nodded. "I'll see to it that Frank is handled appropriately." The guy was going to be fired for cause by the end of the day. Didn't matter that he'd been here forty years; his ass was grass. "Was this the first time?"

"To me," Celina said, "yes. But I've seen him do it to others, too."

"Would you mind writing a short letter to that effect, swearing to what you've seen?"

"No problem. Goodness knows that jackass has it coming."

Celina still looked uncomfortable, though, so I prodded further. "What else is on your mind? Remember, I'm here for anything. Even if it has nothing to do with work." I was manger, counselor, and life coach all in one. But I loved it.

"Well, I was thinking, maybe this wouldn't happen to me if, well..." Celina was back to being uncomfortable.

"If what?"

"If I was like you. I bet you never have to deal with it."

"You'd be surprised," I said, chuckling. "But more likely when people think they can slip away afterwards."

"Still, I, well, I wish I was more like you. Frank would never have dared try that with someone like you. Even if he was dying to get his hands on your body."

"In his goddamn dreams," I chuckled. "And yeah, I know I'm sexy, Celina. You can say it. But you know what's the real secret?"

"I don't see how secret it is. You're tall, with huge tits, a massive ass and hard muscle all over."

"Well, sure," I agreed, "but observe." I went from my confident, self-assured posture to one that mimicked Celina's manner when she had come in. Still mostly did. I spoke more hesitantly, softly. "See how much a difference this makes?"

Celina's eyes went wide. She hadn't thought that I could suddenly seem not just unintimidating, but like someone who might actually be a target. I straightened up again. "See?"

"So, what? You're saying that if I project confidence people won't bug me?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. You belong here, Celina. You've got to be confident and self-assured in that. As long as you give the impression that you belong, people will treat you as if you do. I know you have it in you and I'm certain you'll let it shine through soon enough."

"Still wouldn't hurt to have some of what you and Ms. Tan--Megan have going on," Celina said. "Especially if..." That hesitancy again.

"If what?"

"Well," Celina recovered faster. "I was walking by Accounting the other day. It looked interesting."

"You want a move to Accounting? Well, I can arrange part-time training for you. If you take to it, I'm sure a transfer will follow."

Celina smiled. "Even with all that, I'd still want to have what you and Meg have going on."

"Well, that's probably one thing I can't help you with," I said. "But who knows? Confidence is sexy, Celina. Be confident and you'll be sexy. Maybe even as sexy as I am."

"God, I hope not. I just want Frank fired and a move to Accounting. If I ended up looking like you two I couldn't make rent after buying the clothes!"

"Tell you what," I said. "You go out there and be the confident, self-assured, sexy woman you are. If you grow a foot and a half in the bargain, I'll take you shopping for clothes on the company's dime and get you paid for it."

"Wish that was a deal I could take you up on. Getting paid to go shopping?" Celina laughed.

"Sometimes wishes do come true," I reminded her. "I'd make this one come true if I could. Imagine the heart attacks we three could cause among those horny bastards up there!"

"That means a lot," Celina assured me, "but we both know how realistic that is."

We shared a sad, commiserating smile, but the Celina Norman who left my office, standing tall and proud, didn't bear much resemblance in manner to the distraught woman who'd walked in.

I knocked and opened the door. Megan looked up. "Hey, how much of a budget have we got for a shopping spree?"

"Should be able to find it in the budget," she said. "Why? What for?"

"Clothes for us, or someone like us."

"What makes you say that? Don't we have enough? And anyway, you know we're not supposed to use this as our personal slush fund."

"I'm not," I assured her. "I just, I dunno. I have a funny feeling about it."

"You've had a lot of funny feelings that have panned out since we got here," Megan observed. "I'll make the space in the budget."

"Thanks, Meg."

I spent the rest of the morning until lunch going through the applications that had come in. Most of then I dismissed out of hand, but I set aside a few for further consideration. Once I was done with that, I sent emails to the potential hires to set up phone interviews, and left on my lunch break.

Midway through my break I got a text on my personal cell. It was from Celina. If she was sending me something to my personal phone, from her personal phone, and not on the company's phones, it was clearly something she didn't want anyone else knowing about, whatever guarantees of privacy we might have.

"hey ashley. can i send you an image?"

"of what" I replied.

"hard to explain. not sure what happened. you gotta see it"

"all right"

"better be sitting down for this"

Given the strangeness of the messages, I was thankful that there was a bench near where I was walking.

The image came through. It was a mirror selfie, showing an entire body reflected. It looked like it was taken in a clothing store changing room.

The face looked like Celina Norman's cousin who got all the best genes.

The body looked remarkably similar to ones that I saw every day.

If my jaw could've hit the ground, I'd have had to be in the hospital for a broken mandible and shattered teeth.