Page 3
“Lancaster, I’m waiting for you!” my boss shouts.
In an instant, Wilson has gone from using my first name to my last name, and his delighted smile has been replaced by an expression of complete exasperation. I run to catch up with him, a familiar tightness growing in my chest.
2
Alma
A little over a month ago, I walked through the imposing entrance of the Champs-Élysées building for the first time. A headhunter had contacted me some time before and put me in touch with the HR department at King Productions. After a series of successful interviews, I was sent to meet Wilson, the director of the brand-new French subsidiary. During that meeting, he was enthusiastic about my impressive résumé—but that wasn’t the only thing that caught his attention. Several times, I thought I saw his gaze wander to my white blouse, though it wasn’t the slightest bit revealing.
Perhaps he was simply checking out my nonexistent cleavage, out of curiosity. Perhaps he was worried about whether I’d had my latest breast screening. Or maybe he wanted to test how I’d react to the inappropriate behavior of my potential future male coworkers and clients. Whatever the reason, I tried to rationalize his actions, to stop assuming the worst.
It’s crazy how women who find themselves faced with a serial flirt or a chronic ogler tend to blame themselves first, accusing themselves of imagining things.
But my backward, fifty-something boss quickly confirmed my first impression by constantly complimenting my appearance rather than my abilities. Given what was at stake, I simply smiled politely and sidestepped his innuendos:
“You’re very classy. I’m sure your coworkers will appreciate that.”
“There must be a lucky man waiting for you at home.”
“With a smile like that, you’re likely to charm more than a few people in the office…”
Followed by snickering. The perfect way to pass off this everyday sexism—prohibited by law—as harmless banter.
I don’t really see how a woman could feel flattered by this kind of talk in the workplace. But I figured that perhaps Joseph Wilson, though not exactly old, belonged to an older generation, one convinced that relationships between men and women could not exist without a game of seduction. At least, that was the excuse I made for him at the time so I wouldn’t run away. This job was a dream opportunity for me, so much so that I swallowed my feminist comebacks and, I must admit, some of my principles. Landing this kind of position at just thirty years old and becoming Deputy Director of King Productions France had been beyond my wildest dreams. So, I accepted the job, while quietly hatching a secret plan: there would be time to put him in his place once I was hired.
Ambition runs in the Lancaster family. My father is an outstanding businessman, as is my brother. Ever since I was little, my parents have instilled in me determination, willpower, a thirst for learning, and a drive to succeed. Letting such an opportunity slip away was simply unthinkable. Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself of that.
For the past month, I’ve been so focused on my work, driven by the desire to prove myself, that I’d almost forgotten that unpleasant job interview. My role comes with a great deal of responsibility and a big learning curve. There’s no time to procrastinate. I work hard, but I love it. I know I can count on Sophie, who heads production, and Clarence, who’s in charge of distribution. The three of us quickly became friends. I have a great deal of respect for them, and they treat me as one of their own, even though I'm officially their manager.
The only dark cloud: Joseph Wilson’s frequent outbursts, which are never directed at me but still have a way of souring the atmosphere for everyone. Given his supposed charm, I’d expected the heavy-handed flirting, but not his anger management issues. I still don’t know which I prefer.
***
Leaving work, I had gotten in touch with Clémentine and Niels and arranged to meet on the patio of our favorite brasserie in Saint-Lazare. Niels was free; Clem canceled her plans at the last minute to make herself available. When my two best friends heard the keywords “emergency,” “too long to explain,” and “crazy” on the other end of the line, I didn’t need to ask twice.
They start bombarding me with questions as soon as we sit down.
“Did your boss do something inappropriate?”
“Alma, is it Wilson? Did he make a move on you?!”
“Of course not—”
“Did he humiliate you? Threaten you?”
“From what you’ve told us, Sleazy Joe is capable of anything.”
I raise my voice in an attempt to interrupt them. “It’s not him. It’s… Vadim.”
They both sit there, speechless, as I tell them about the surreal scene at the meeting.
“Alma, are you sure it was really him?” Clémentine stares at me as if I’ve completely lost my mind.
“Clem, do you really think I’d be in this state if I had the slightest doubt?”
“Right, and Vadim isn’t exactly a popular name…” Niels adds.
“But why did he change his name?” Clémentine asks.
