The devil wears beige: Part IV - The Return

The two weeks of bliss were over, Sharon was back. Her holiday seemingly removed all her inhibitions and there was no stopping her. ‘Hi babeee’ she says lifting the corners of her mouth to her eyes - don’t be fooled, it’s not a smile - ‘Can I please ask you something?’ This sentence would be repeated in different variations over and over, daily, for the months to come. I’m convinced that she got these phrases from a book with a name like ‘How to get your way without coming across as a psychopath’ or ‘Nice girls don’t get the corner office - so they must be destroyed’. Following her slogan she would give me a task, most often relating to one of her own clients, with a deadline. We have exactly the same job title, the same tasks. But, as she trained me, she stated that this qualified her to be my manager. Having the title of ‘marketing manager’ under her emails would look more professional for the company according to her. Heinz was not involved in making this decision, or aware of it.

It’s 9:30 am, the deadline would be 11:00 am. In the meantime, I have my own deadlines with my own clients. Clients calling me, requesting new things asap. Our completely incompetent sales representative asking for files before her appointment in half an hour, that she has access to herself. My colleagues asking for information. With all of this going on, Sharon spins in her chair, cackling at a video on Facebook. ‘Look at these goats! Haaa!’ And she shoves her phone in my face. 

When I barely react as I am trying to do what she asked me, I sense her getting bored. Her boredom will be followed by provoking me, a ritual I quickly became familiar with. She turns her chair to face me. Starting with a warm-up.
‘Have you heard that the announcer of the trains in the Netherlands won’t be saying ‘‘ladies and gentlemen’’ any longer, but  ‘‘dear travelers’’? Can you believe that?’ 
Looking at my screen I respond with ‘Well, they are travelers aren’t they?’ 
‘They are doing that for those non-binary people. That’s insane!’ She scoffs. 
‘Mm’ I say absently, knowing where this is going.
‘I mean, I personally have no issue with those people. If you want to be a man, a woman, a thing, a helicopter, that’s none of my business, do whatever you feel like. But I don’t go around demanding everyone to adjust just for me.’ 
‘It’s not that much of an effort to just say travelers’
‘Do you even know any non-binary people? There are very little people that think like that so, why do we all have to change just for them?’ She leans forward, trying to catch my eye.
Reluctantly I sigh ‘I don’t agree, it doesn’t take away anything from anyone and it is a small effort to improve people’s experience. I think there are worse things to worry about. People will survive not being called ‘‘Ladies and gentlemen’’ on the train.’

‘You are right. Something I am actually really worried about is how our politics are going to shit.’ She says. 
‘Something we agree on.’ 
‘Did you hear that our government wants to pay the inhabitants of our old colonies repercussions for the slavery history?’ She says this in a tone that implies that this is not a good thing. I decide to act oblivious. 
‘That’s amazing! And about damn time.’ I say.
‘But, um, no, it’s not amazing.’ She says confused. ‘Those people weren’t even slaves!’
‘Their grandparents were.’
‘Yeah but, what do they have to do with that? Why would they deserve to get our money?’ 
‘Well, their whole known history stems from their ancestors being enslaved. They’ve been stolen from their real history. Ancestral trauma is not something that just disappears when you abolish slavery. It’s the least we can do.’ I try my best to explain to her, briefly.
‘But Roos, that is complete and utter nonsense. They have nothing to do with it. Let me ask you something. What happens when you give money to a dog?’ She asks me.
‘What..?’
‘No I’m serious, try to think what a dog could possibly do with free money.’ 
‘What are you trying to say?’ 
‘A dog has no idea how to handle money sweetie. And these people are worse than dogs. They are beasts.’

I freeze in my chair and turn my head to her. She is ‘smiling’ back at me. 

‘You and I both know that the money would never be used for anything good. It will go straight to gambling, alcohol, drugs, sex. There’s no denying that.’
Baffled I just look at her.
‘Haha I know what you are thinking, ‘‘she’s racist!’’ But I assure you I am not, I’m just realistic. I am very open to all people, but they aren’t people. They are beasts. And there’s no exception, it’s not just the men. The women and even the children are degenerate animals as well. My aunt dated one of them and he was beating her all the time. His family was the same. We may as well burn our tax money. Actually that would do more good.’

I can’t believe what I just heard. I wish I could’ve formulated a proper answer but all that I seemed capable of in the moment was to pick up my chair and slam it into her head while screaming. I snap out of this daydream reminding myself that I am in an office. Frozen in place, I just keep staring at her. 

‘Anyhow, ah! It’s 11:00. Did you do the task?’ She asks me as if nothing happened.
‘No… I..’
‘Oh? But.. did I not ask you to do the task? I could not have imagined asking you this. Have I imagined it Roos? Did I not ask you this earlier?’ She taps her finger on her chin as she theatrically looks up while ‘thinking’ 
‘You did ask me’
‘Oh haha you see? I knew I didn’t imagine it, so silly. But then.. What other reason could there be for it not to be done..? I don’t believe there is any other acceptable reason?’ The cold smile fades and I’m left with piercing eye contact. None of us blinks. ‘Because, as your manager, when I ask you something.. I expect it to be done. Have I not been clear about that?’
I look back at her.
‘I asked you something Roos. When I ask you something you will respond. Have I not been clear about that?’
‘Yes, you have.’ 
‘Then why isn’t it done?’ 
Combined with her earlier statements and this confrontation I have to put all my effort into not bursting out in tears. She notices. The smile returns.
‘Oh honey, maybe I’ve overestimated your ability to take this on. That is my fault, I apologise for being so naive. I mean, it only takes me 5 minutes to do this.’ 

I get home to my boyfriend, so mentally exhausted and start crying.
‘She said… what? Are you serious?’  He responds to my tears.
‘I’ve never heard someone say something like that and I just didn’t know what to do! I hate myself for not saying anything back to her!’ 
‘You have to go to your boss and tell him what she told you, this is insane.’ 
‘I honestly don’t think he cares’ I say and I bury my face into my emotional support cat. 

Fast forward a couple of months later. A supplier delivers media material for us to use on posters, brochures, and ads for our clients. The images we were told to use have a white, blue-eyed girl, a very light-skinned Middle Eastern boy, and an Asian girl. Heinz is supposed to review all the visual work that is delivered to the clients. ‘Hmm, I don’t want the Chinese girl. Take her out.’ He instructs one of the graphic designers. Bless my colleagues for challenging him. 
‘But we are supposed to use her pictures.’ She says. 
‘No, I don’t want it, that won’t work. Our clients won’t like it. Next.’ He says waving his hand.
‘Why, won’t the clients like it? This picture is used in the whole campaign.’ She asks, knowing very well what is about to come. 
Heinz starts raising his voice. ‘Because I said no! The pictures are ugly and I will not have it. Besides, there are no Chinese people in Belgium!’ 
‘I’m pretty sure there are… And, ugly..?’ She says.
‘Pff yes ugly! And if you think that’s racist, that’s because I am racist!’ Heinz gets up for his speech and turns to all of us. ‘Just so you all know, our clients are racist. This company is racist. And if you have a problem with that, that is your problem. Am I clear?!’ 
Many more feedback rounds were needed, because my amazing colleagues kept putting the pictures of the Asian girl in the flyers. Heinz would lose it again and storm out of the office to smoke one of his 40 daily cigarettes. 
In the end, my colleague was only able to place a picture of the back of the girl's head in the brochure. ‘Small victories I guess..?’ I text her. She sends me back cry emojis. 

*A little side note. Writing this sounds so comically unreal, and I wish it was. The absurdity of these people’s terrifying mentalities sounds like a dark twisted parody but I would never come up with this on my own. Also needless to say, in retrospect I wish I said something, everything. It still haunts me that this woman and man go around spurting their racism. People who speak up would get yelled at and probably even fired. At the end of it all, their racist, homophobic, and sexist beliefs were the reason I left. It became standard for me to be crying for full afternoons after meetings, where I would try to implement change but to no avail. In retrospect, I didn’t do enough.