Mr. Smith

18: Held Captive

Mr. Smith looked at me from behind his desk.  He doesn't look exactly angry, but he doesn't looked pleased at the same time.  So I'm not sure what to expect in this next conversation that we're about to have.

"Why didn't you schedule the meetings when I had asked you to earlier this month?"  He quietly asks, looking at me evenly. 

I was about to respond, but he didn't give me a chance to. He leans back in his chair and scoffs.

"The point of this trip is for me to broaden my business out of this country.  And without the meetings, I won't be able to do that."  He says, voice getting a bit thick with ice.

"Yes, I know.  And I apologize."  I respond.  Mr. Smith runs his fingers through his hair out of frustration.

"Stop saying you're fucking sorry!"  He hisses.  "You always say you're sorry, but you don't do anything about it!" 

I jump, startled, I wasn't expecting him to get this mad that fast. 

"Now it's probably too late to arrange meetings."  He mutters, grabbing his yellow stress ball. 

I decide that in order to save my ass, that I should take matters into my own hands.  So I leave his office and get on the computer and start working. 

It's a good thing that I caught a glance of who the companies that we're supposed to have the meetings with, otherwise I wouldn't know where to start. 

"Elizabeth!  I wasn't finished with you and I didn't give you permission to leave."  I heard Mr. Smith say once he opened his door. 

But I don't respond to him as I am quickly typing away and asking Crúz Incorporated, Alvarez and Brothers, and St. Patrick Enterprise if it's possible to have a meeting the week after the next. 

I was in the middle of typing the email when Mr. Smith walks up to me, and turns off the computer monitor, glaring at me.

"I don't know who you are or what you're thinking, but last time I checked, I call the shots around here.  So don't you ever walk out on me like that ever again when I'm talking to you."  He hisses. 

My face begins to turn a shade of red of embarrassment as I just stare at the black screen. 

"Look at me."  Mr. Smith demands.  I turn my face to look at him only to see that he's glaring at me. 

"Don't ever do that again."  He mutters, and then stalks off back into his office.

I sigh, and turn the compute back on, resuming my email.  Once I finish typing it, I send it to the three companies. 
I'm still awaiting a reply from Robert Pines, but I guess he's just done with me and Mr. Smith all together. 

Later on around three, it was time for me to get my picture taken for my ID card.  Mr. Smith told me to go downstairs and meet up with Jamie, and he'll take me to where I need to get my picture taken.  The whole process took longer than I expected.  They had some troubles finding me in the system, which is odd, and once they found me, the cameras were acting up. 

So all in all, it took about two hours for me to get my picture taken alone.  And then an extra twenty minutes for them to process my card.  Once they gave me my card, I gladly left the basement. 

Now that I have my own ID card, I feel a rush of power within me.  I now have access to any room that I want without having to ask Mr. Smith for a stupid pass code. 

I went back up to my floor and checked my computer for any new email messages once I got to my desk.  My heart leaps once I see that I have four new emails.  One from Robert Pines, one from Crúz Incorporated, another from Alverez and Brothers, and one from St. Patrick Enterprise.  I opened the one from Robert Pines first, and sat down in my chair.