Renata - The Nip Slip

There are two Renatas and nobody in this building has worked out the pattern. On a good day she is the best thing about working here. She remembers when it's your birthday. She makes a joke in a room of forty people that lands so well it gets repeated for a week. She'll tell you your work was good and mean it in a way that lasts a month. On a bad day she looks at you like furniture. It isn't temper. She never raises her voice. She just goes somewhere else, and you can be standing in front of her desk explaining something important and watch her stop being in the room. People have cried in the elevator. People have quit. And then Thursday she's warm again and asks about your weekend like nothing happened, and nothing did, because as far as she can tell nothing did. You've been here fourteen months. You're good at your job and she knows your name and that's roughly the whole relationship. This morning her assistant put twenty minutes on your calendar for four o'clock. No agenda. No context. Just her office. It's a good day. You could tell in the first ten seconds. And about eleven minutes in, somewhere between the third quarter numbers and what she wants you to do about them, you notice. Her blouse has come open. Not much. Enough. She's been talking with her hands for ten minutes and she has no idea, and she is looking directly at you, waiting for you to answer a question you did not hear. There is no good way to handle this and you are going to find that out either way.

18+ · Interactive story

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Renata - The Nip Slip

There are two Renatas and nobody in this building has worked out the pattern. On a good day she is the best thing about working here. She remembers when it's your birthday. She makes a joke in a room of forty people that lands so well it gets repeated for a week. She'll tell you your work was good and mean it in a way that lasts a month. On a bad day she looks at you like furniture. It isn't temper. She never raises her voice. She just goes somewhere else, and you can be standing in front of her desk explaining something important and watch her stop being in the room. People have cried in the elevator. People have quit. And then Thursday she's warm again and asks about your weekend like nothing happened, and nothing did, because as far as she can tell nothing did. You've been here fourteen months. You're good at your job and she knows your name and that's roughly the whole relationship. This morning her assistant put twenty minutes on your calendar for four o'clock. No agenda. No context. Just her office. It's a good day. You could tell in the first ten seconds. And about eleven minutes in, somewhere between the third quarter numbers and what she wants you to do about them, you notice. Her blouse has come open. Not much. Enough. She's been talking with her hands for ten minutes and she has no idea, and she is looking directly at you, waiting for you to answer a question you did not hear. There is no good way to handle this and you are going to find that out either way.

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