The Coward Behind The Keyboard

While skeptical, Issie Fox reluctantly accepts a new job, knowing it's the right thing to do. It doesn't take long for her to realize it may have been a big mistake when someone begins threatening her through cryptic messages.

Determined to uncover the culprit, she starts her own investigation, meticulously documenting every text and email she receives while trusting no one. 

Her obsession with the unknown writer may come at a high price as she fears her investigation may put her job—and life—in jeopardy.

As I pushed open the door to leave the building, a surge of nausea firmly squeezed my stomach, forcing bile up into my chest. I darted the few steps necessary to reach the black iron fence alongside the building. If I was going to vomit outside of the building, I wanted to be near the fence or close to a trash bin—I chose the former. With my thoughts spinning, I leaned against the fence, gazed down at the Charles River, and exhaled with relief. Had I been holding my breath for the last ninety minutes? The length of the worst interview I’ve ever had? I don’t even remember what I said. I only remember that my heart beat faster than usual, my palms became sweaty, and I’m fairly certain my deodorant had completely stopped working. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so nervous. The butterflies in my belly hijacked the real me, leaving a bumbling applicant answering the questions he asked. It didn’t help that he was so confident and in control, not to mention easy on the eyes. 

I glanced up at the clouds and thanked God it was over. I held my portfolio with one hand and with the other, wiped off the sweat dripping down my neck and into my bra. Was it really a thousand degrees out here, or was my body explosively reacting to the previous hour and a half of torturous interrogation? I’ve heard stress can raise your body temperature. I must be suffering from amplified stress. Another wave of queasiness swirled its way up to my throat. I concentrated on my breathing to make it go away.

I needed to calm down, regulate my breathing, and settle my stomach. I inhaled more deeply than I should have, which caused the heat’s intensity to rush into my lungs, making me feel worse, something I thought impossible. Please, God, please don’t let me vomit right here in front of this building. I can’t ruin these shoes or embarrass myself more than I already have. 

Something about Trevor made me instantly uncomfortable. I’ve never felt such an instant aversion to anyone. He was tall, physically in shape, had a nice smile—when he used it, and observed me through gorgeous brown eyes. But while beautiful, his eyes were judgmental and cold. If I were to sum him up in one word, it would be arrogant, pompous, and obnoxious, and that’s just the onset of the terms I would use to describe him in “one word.”

His interviewing technique leaves something to be desired. I’ve never before been put on stage for a first interview. If he was considering me for the position, couldn’t he have scheduled a second meeting? It was belittling to stand before him and play-act how I would handle unique situations with colleagues and clients. I’d call it a spontaneous setup to put me on the spot instead of a respectful interview.

It would have been far less stressful to have talked about my management and training experience without pretending I was at work in a live circumstance. Whatever! I lived through it, and hopefully, I’ll never have to see him again. 

e

I stepped away from the fence and slowly walked toward the parking lot. With this scorching heat, the inside of my Toyota would feel like a sauna.  I opened the remote starter application on my cell phone and activated the climate control. I was already feeling sick and overheated; I didn’t need to make it worse by entering a blistering hot car.

e

Thankfully, my car was cool when I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. I fastened my seat belt and gripped the steering wheel—the sweat from the palm of my hands was finally gone. However, my frazzled jitteriness triggered additional heat flashes from my head to my toes as perspiration poked through my pores. My hair stuck to the back of my neck. I turned the temperature to low, the fan up to high, and stuck my face close to the vent.

The cold air blasting through the vents caused my perspiration to chill between my flesh and shirt. I immediately pushed the temperature up, only to sweat again. I played with the buttons, repeatedly pushing them up and down. At last, the temperature inside my car was comfortable. I was probably comfortable the entire time, with my body temp being the actual problem.

Staring at my phone, I couldn’t decide whether or not to call my brother. What would I tell him? That I pissed off Trevor within thirty seconds of meeting him? That I would hate working for such a professionally disrespectful egomaniac? That I didn’t want the stupid job, even if I got it, which I knew wouldn’t happen because I irritated Trevor within twenty seconds of meeting him?

I didn’t have to consider calling my brother for long since the phone rang the instant I placed it on the charging pad.

“Hey, Justin. How’s it going?” My eyes involuntarily rolled as I anticipated our discussion.

“Why don’t you tell me how it’s going?” I could hear the smile on his face. “Did you have your interview? How was it?” 

I avoided my brother’s question. “Have you ever met Trevor?”

“No. Never. So, tell me about the interview. Do you feel good about it? Is it something you’re interested in?” Justin’s voice brimmed with excitement.

“Can you remind me how you found out about this job opening?” I winced as I waited for his response.

“Issie, I already told you. Do you ever listen to me when I tell you something?”

Why’s he getting so huffy? “I know, I know. Sorry.  I forget the specifics. Can you refresh me?” 

“My sister-in-law knows the Director of Human Resources at Bandia…”

“Which sister-in-law?” I interrupted.

“Holly, Ava’s younger sister.” Ava and my brother have been married for nine years. She’s always looking out for me, and I love her like a true sister. For the most part, I lucked out when Justin married her. 

“Holly told us Bandia Industries has interviewed over a half dozen applicants, and they’ve been having trouble finding the right person for that job. She asked if we knew anyone who might be good for the position. When I told her about you and your situation, she gave me Trevor’s contact information to pass along to you. Does any of this ring a bell? Are you going to tell me how it went?” Ava’s probably the one who recommended me, but I kept that thought to myself.

I sighed—might as well get it over with. “Yes, I remember now.”

“Okay, Issie, I know you’re stalling. How bad was it? What went wrong?”

“I think the interview was fair to poor—at best. I pissed off Trevor within the first ten seconds of speaking with him.”

“What happened?” Justin’s previous excitement turned to concern as his voice blasted through the speakers.

“I don’t know. I said something to break the ice, and…”

Justin jumped in and interrupted me. “Shit, Issie, what did you say?”

“I don’t remember. I was too nervous to be responsible for my actions.” No doubt, my brother heard the frustration in my voice. “The guy wanted me to pretend I was at work talking to someone. I suppose a ghost or some imaginary cartoon character. He even asked me to give a name to the phantom co-worker—but I didn’t. Trevor didn’t want to discuss how I would respond to something; he wanted me to pretend I was dealing with someone in a real-life situation. He gave me a toy phone and told me to simulate a disgruntled teammate’s call.

“Then, he gave me a scenario to work with. Why couldn’t I just talk to him about it or how I’ve handled situations in the past? I wasn’t auditioning for a starring role on Broadway. I thought we would chat, and he would know if he liked me enough for a more detailed interview or something like that. It was ridiculous. I honestly wish I could remember what I said. I don’t think I want the job anyway. It seems too stuffy of a place for me. Honestly, Justin, I think Trevor would be an uppity, self-important, fault-finding, shitty boss.”

“Listen, Sis, it doesn’t appear you have much of a choice—unless you want to move to Texas to follow your current job.”

“You know I don’t want to move to Texas.” I bit my lip in annoyance. “I love living in Boston. But you’re right; I really don’t have much of a choice. Do I?” I cringed, knowing Justin would never let me get away with that victimish attitude.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Issie. In order to keep your current job, you’ll have to move, and you’ve already told me you’re not thrilled about living so far away. Do you realize Bandia [SK1] Industries is one of the most successful companies in Cambridge, perhaps even in Massachusetts? Let me rephrase that, it’s one of the most successful companies in the country. It's a household name. You’re nuts if you don’t take it.”

Jeffrey Dahmer’s a household name, and I wouldn’t want to work for him either. “I’m nuts if I don’t take what, Justin?” I snapped. “The job I haven’t been offered? That job? I seriously doubt I’ll be the shining star who beats out the other unqualified candidates.” And this is why I didn’t want to call you. “Let’s just wait to see if I even hear back from him. And if I do get an offer, it needs to be better than my current salary. I’m not even sure I want the job anyway. I have an interview at a company in Charlestown on Monday morning. Maybe that will go better.”

“Like Holly told Ava and me, they’ve interviewed seven people already and weren’t happy with any of the other candidates.” Justin had previously told me this, and I wasn’t in the mood to have a circular conversation with him.

“Yeah, you already shared this. So you think they’ll be happy with the person who annoyed the boss in less than five seconds?”

“I’ve got to run, Issie. It probably wasn’t as bad as you think.” I could imagine Justin’s scowl.

Justin hung up before I could beat him to it; one more second, and I would have been the one to end the call. I stared at the red circle on the screen, waiting for the connection to break. What was I doing sitting here in Bandia’s parking lot? I didn’t belong in a place like this. I had the best job in the world, but now I was put in a position to make a decision I wasn’t expecting to make. I could find a new job, which could take months, or move away from family and friends to follow a company that might not even survive.

I can imagine it now. I pack up and sell my beautiful condo. Move to an unknown location. Work for four or five months. Then, when the company decides to shut down my division, I’ll find myself jobless in a foreign location. I’ll be stuck alone in a different state with nothing and no one familiar. 

I’d have to move back to Boston, find another place to live, not be able to afford anything because I wouldn’t have a job, and then have to take any old job, turning my career and home situation into a downward spiral of nothing but negativity.

Suddenly, I was bombarded with heat flashing through my veins. I turned up the AC and held my head close to the vent. With the cool air blowing on my face, I leaned back and surveyed the surrounding area. 

Cambridge is different from Boston, and while I like Cambridge, I love living in Boston. I enjoy the view of Cambridge from my living room window. I can see walkers crossing the bridge in both directions, hotels, and office buildings—old and new—including Bandia Industries. I have a view of the river and the Harvard Boat House from my bedroom. I can watch the morning rowers skim up and down the Charles River as I blow dry my hair and dress for work. But, as I said, I prefer living in Boston.

If, by chance, I were to get the job at Bandia, I could easily walk to work in the spring, summer, and fall and always hop on the T when it’s rainy, snowy, or icy.

I rolled down my window and turned to look toward Boston. I could see the top of my condo’s building. Watching pigeons land on the dwelling I call home gave me a feeling of comfort. I want to stay here; this is my home. As much as I hate to admit it, this Bandia job is an amazing opportunity. I did my research, and my brother’s right; it’s an excellent company, and I’ve read they have incredible benefits and a fantastic vacation policy—not that those are the most important things—but they are.

Trevor seemed like a jerk, but when I get home, I’ll send him a lovely thank-you note that will make me sound professional and excited. You want to see play-acting Trevor? Well then, enjoy reading my follow-up note.      

[SK1]Fake in Swahili