I had never met anyone who took pleasure in cruelty. Until I met her. She was intelligent, affluent and beautiful. Her cruelty added a dangerous spark to her frequently mistaken docile appearance. She was in a position of authority and she used this position to inflict fear. She breathed fire and lived off the scent of others’ vulnerabilities. Her actions displayed no guilt; her heart showed no remorse. She tore apart anyone who worked for her, with her or above her. She spared no one whether it was a man, woman or animal. In fact, the plants in her office didn’t survive for more than two weeks. Everyone got the same harsh treatment. They called her the witch with a ‘b’ behind her back. She knew she was hated though. How could she not be aware?
No one smiled; everyone quit; people left her office in tears. It was like she sucked the positive sentiments when she walked into a room. Yet, she was never fired. Her impersonal, anarchic, ruthless nature got the work done. Many others together couldn’t replace her ability to complete tasks. This was the call the company made despite numerous complaints against her. So she stayed and continued to receive a yearly 30% hike. It was part of an unsigned agreement.
I loathed her. But I was forced to abide and conform. I stayed on and observed her for many months. Months turned into years and I didn’t quit. I assumed someday I could write a book on her robotic skills alone. It was mesmerising to see how she handled herself. Never did anyone spot a moment of weakness. I found that alluring.
After two years of working for her, I resembled a zombie without a goal in life and energy drained from my every pore. I didn’t care enough to quit anymore. The job got me a hefty pay. Working for the witch paid handsomely as I would have it. I was willing to sacrifice the pursuit of greater happiness. Happiness was elusive and unimportant anyway. Even she would agree.