Surprise Me Tomorrow

2. Cards on the Table

"Oh, hi!" Clara, the bitch from the Payroll division, says after she can find her voice. It's hard to decide if she's smiling or wincing at the moment. "You're here."

The giggles, murmurs, and shuffling noise from the pantry room vanish into thin air. I swear that even the coffee machine also stops making the gurgling noise.

"Obviously," I say, still not sure what I'm going to say next.

Other footsteps rush to the door, and Sammy comes face to face with me, her brown eyes widening. "Charlie." Her mouth opens and closes, but she seems lost for words.

"That was..." I frown, trying to find the word. "Brutal."

"It's not like like what you think. I think we should talk in private."

Clara squeaks. "Can I join?"

"No," Sammy and I reply in unison, glaring at her.

"But please, let's not bring this to the Human Resources. You know how they are," she begs and turns her head to me. "You won't report me, will you?"

"Seriously?" I narrow my eyes at her. "Why would I bring this cheap gossip to the management? What do you take me for? A five-year-old?"

"Char, let's talk somewhere; in your office or the meeting room. We're making a scene now and I–" Sammy pauses, gulping while her eyes dart in all directions, "we just don't wanna get anyone into trouble. Please."

Without replying, I turn around and gesture for her to follow me to my office, ignoring the rest of the people who are now cramping at the pantry door to watch our little commotion. At the moment, I'm too shocked and hurt to talk, but Sammy's problem sounds like the root of all this morning's gossip. I want to know why she's doing this to me, her own teammate.

"Let me explain," Sammy says when I close the door behind me.

"You don't need to explain yourself. I've heard pretty much everything and I hear you," I reply as I put my mug back onto my desk, walk to the window, and lean back on its sill. I'm too agitated to sit down on my chair. "My question is, why didn't you tell me directly if you feel that way about me? Why talk about it with others behind my back instead?"

Sammy leans in my guest chair and shakes her head. "I'm not talking about whatever I feel about you behind your back, Charlie. That's not what happened."

"Please." I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. "First, you guys thought I was a five-year-old who always brought our problem to our parents, and now, you think I was hallucinating? I heard you guys loud and clear!"

"Please. Hear me out," she says, gesturing at me to calm down.

I massage my temple, not sure if I even want to hear her explanation, but that was the reason why I agreed to talk in private in the first place, right? "Fine."

"I know I've been complaining about the workload that Dickson and the rest of the team dump on me. It's getting ridiculous lately, and maybe that's what triggers me to be this...salty." She takes a deep breath, her legs fidgeting, causing the chair to rock from the movement. "I'm supposed to be an admin staff who helps the team with administrative work, not individual work. But it looks like I need to do every single piece of paperwork for you."

I frown at her last line. "What do you mean?"

"Something like doing your sales report for instance, or compiling your clients' profile for the archive, even doing some preliminary research for the clients they want you to handle."

"Wait," I interject, crossing my arms. "But I thought it was in your job description?"

"Um no?" When I frown deeper, she continues. "I'm supposed to handle the team's administrative work, like when we have weekly meetings, preparing the trip expenses and accommodation, seminars or business events, or when our manager needs some data or some other paperwork. Do you get what I mean? I'm supposed to work for the team, not the individual. But if it was the individual, it would be Dickson because he's our leader, not the staff members."