He is the Worst by Mariia Kukshyna

“He is the worst!”

Sophia screamed entering the conference room.

“Couldn’t agree more,” I mumbled over the top of my computer.

Sophia does not need to tell me whom she is talking about. I already know. The infamous Charlie. The shark of our fishtank.

“He li-te-ra-lly tore up the new chapter of my manuscript in front of me. Can I sue him for this?”

“You can’t. You have another copy, don’t you?” I closed my laptop to look at her directly.

“That’s not the point, Kate! He could’ve just told me didn’t like it.”

“Soph, if Charlie ever just tells somebody that he doesn’t like something without insulting the other person or making a scene, I will buy you a castle the minute you tell me about it. He’s just wired differently. Politeness and social skills probably left his body when puberty kicked in.”

“He’s unbearable.”

She sighs heavily and continues, now softly.

“How do you work with him?”

“I chose the company, not the boss.”

“Fair, but I still can’t imagine how you put up with all his crap.”

Honestly, sometimes I also do not know how I am handling it. Charlie is legitimately the worst human being on planet Earth. He always wears an expensive tailored suit, either grey, black or muddy-brown, typical colours of a villain. Even on so-called “work retreat” the company organised for us last year when we camped in the mountains for two days, he would still wear something that resembled those office outfits: button-up shirts and ironed jeans that looked more like trousers. His hair is always combed and styled with an extensive amount of gel.

But the looks are not the worst part of Charlie. Charlie is the worst part of Charlie. He is the editor-in-chief in our publishing house, so I understood from the beginning he will not be a piece of cake to work with. But I had strict bosses before who were also capable of having emotions and just generally being good people. Charlie is different. He is demeaning to his employees, rude to his writers and his expression always makes him look like a cheetah on a hunt. Like he finds joy in finding prey and making somebody’s life miserable.

I remember my first day at this publishing house, when I walked through the big glass doors into the office and his first words to me were:

“Janson, you are two minutes late. Next time your tardiness is going to directly affect your paycheck.”

Almost crying, I went to the office kitchen in the desperate need of caffeine and some normal human interaction. A bit too many people were already waiting for me there.

“Here, you deserve it,” an older woman said while handing me a big mug full of brown steaming liquid. “Milk, sugar?”

“No, thanks,” I replied weakly.

“He’s such a jerk,” a middle-aged man added.

“It was painful to watch,” a young-looking girl chimed in. “At least he didn’t make an HR meeting for you on your first day to preach about the length of your skirt.”

“We’re so sorry, sweetheart,” an older woman said, bringing herself back into conversation after offering me cookies. She continued in a lower voice, “I heard he screamed at Alyssa for asking for an extension on her maternity leave. She asked for one more week. One week!”

“That’s nothing,” a middle-aged man said. “I know for a fact he wouldn’t sign a seek leave for Jakob, because ‘You can write with your right arm while your left one is broken.’ Jakob is a lefty.”

The exchange of gossips continued for another five or so minutes and I remember feeling at ease around those people who were ready to support me no matter of what their boss was like.

Unfortunately, Charlie is my boss too. And now, after three dedicated years in a company, I have taken on the responsibility of softening the blow of Charlie on our authors and new employees.

“Earth to Kate, Earth to Kate,” Sophia teased waving her hand in front of me.

“Yeah, sorry. I got distracted. Anyway, are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course!”

The following day is Thanksgiving. It is the only day a year we officially have off and are not required to answer any messages or phone calls. Sophia and I decided to do something good and empowering, something different from how we usually feel during our office hours. So, we met next to a homeless shelter, ready to serve food and share kindness with strangers.

But as we entered the premises, we saw something as unbelievable as if it was a real Santa Claus or fairies in there. We just stood in one place, both unable to move.

We were looking at Charlie in a blue apron worn over a cozy yellow sweater, pouring soup in bowls and handing them to people, while smiling and chatting with them. He looked so bright and light, almost dancing around others trying to get past them to gather more supplies. It looked as ridiculous as a shark in a ballet dress giving kisses to other fish.

“I guess, you owe me a castle now,” Sophia broke the silence.