Corporate Affairs Series – Part 1

“You’re Right, Mr. Clark – I Do Hate You.”

The whole office was buzzing with the news of the arrival of the new boss. His name was Jeta Clark, supposedly some kind of marketing whiz kid with the proclivity of shaking things up where ever he went.

Well, he’d shaken things up pretty much already at WinCo, ousting the former managing director, Sanni Jairo with almost noiseless precision. It had happened quite quickly, actually, giving the rest of them little or no time to recover from the loss of their beloved former “oga”. Jairo had been a good guy – too good, in fact. And they always said niceness didn’t pay. Not in the tough world of marketing communications.

Gabriella Ajai was part of the team that would be working closely with Jeta Clark on the many new projects that the company was handling over the next several months. They were working on the big accounts, the mega industry players, some of which were looking for newer, fresher ideas. And maybe that was why the powers that be had decided that Sanni Jairo just didn’t cut it for them at WinCo. Gabriella had been like his personal assistant, had felt fiercely loyal to him, and was gutted that he’d left so unceremoniously. He wasn’t ruthless and money-driven like most of his counterparts in the industry; and yes he was in his fifties but he was as in tune with the times as the best of them. She still couldn’t understand what the so-called new-breed managing director would achieve that Jairo couldn’t have. It just didn’t seem fair.

But what did Gabriella know about fair. She wasn’t the outspoken type, didn’t look or dress like a Vogue model the way the other girls did at the office. She was hard working and dedicated but was somewhat underrated by her peers, not for her lack of input, because she was quite intelligent and did more than her bit when it came to work. But then it wasn’t her brains being in question here. Not at all.

Gabriella was quite tall, and in the somewhat bulky clothes she usually wore, she looked like an austere head teacher, especially behind those thick-framed glasses of hers. Over all, she did not paint a glamorous picture, and in an uptown, bustling marketing firm like WinCo, glamour was quite the thing. She had earned the nickname Drab Gab which no one dared say to her face, but she heard the twitters behind her back and knew the other employees didn’t think much of her physical appearance. That didn’t bother her much though. She was there to do a job and she did it enviably well. In fact, she was one of WinCo’s best employees and, though she had been there barely two years, she had risen fast in the ranks and worked as Sanni Jairo’s right hand up to the point when he’d left.

In the few weeks that followed, Gabriella had been tempted to go, too, very distressed that Jairo had been treated so shabbily by a company where he had spent some ten years. Then she had considered the fact that she’d worked hard to get this job and keep it, and maybe it would be wise to check out the new management before making up her mind.

Well, today was her chance to do so. Jeta Clarke was apparently going to grace them with his presence some time that morning, and they were waiting for him to arrive.

Gabriella and Oma, her co-worker and friend, were discussing in the office that they shared. They were both like chalk and cheese: Oma was quite fashion-conscious and was always kitted in the latest trends. Her hair was never a strand out of place and her make-up was flawless and ever-present. Her petite stature did nothing to detract from her boisterous, outgoing personality and she was one of the few people that had taken the effort to get close to Gabriella and see that the so-called “Drab Gab” was actually a very interesting, nice person, who just didn’t care about what she looked like in the mirror. Pity, Oma always thought. With Gabriella’s height and her aristocratic cheekbones that were obscured by those frightful glasses, she would have been such a looker if only she just tried.

“I don’t know what this Jeta Clark thinks he is,” Oma was saying somewhat angrily now. She too was fiercely loyal to Sanni and had taken his replacement rather badly herself. “I hear he’s some bigshot in the industry and is coming straight from headquarters. But what can he offer that Sanni couldn’t?”

“I keep wondering the same thing,” Gabriella muttered, folding her hands as she paced their medium-sized office, looking through the glass partition that ran one wall, where she could see the reception area. “I guess we’re supposed to just roll over and pander to his every whim just because he was thrust on us from “headquarters”.” She shook her head, sighing. “Sometimes, Oma, I just hate this…this corporate jungle business we find ourselves in. People at the top just think they can get away with everything – and folks at the bottom, like us, have to keep quiet and take it.”

“Well, we’re not going to make it so easy for them, are we?” Oma said wrathfully, a conspiratorial smile breaking over her pretty face as she went to stand beside Gabriella. “We’ll show this Jeta Clark that he can’t just come down here and start running the show.”

Gabriella nodded quickly in agreement. “We’ll make it so tough for him, he’ll wish he never took Jairo’s place.”

“Exactly,” Oma agreed, just as a flurry seemed to come from outside the office. They looked through the glass and saw the other workers scurrying for the entrance. “Looks like the usurper has arrived,” she drawled, then grabbed Gabriella’s hand. “Let’s go see what the fuss is all about.”

They both left their office and joined the others in the large, carpeted reception room. It had quietened down by now, and they stood by as one of the directors came through the door, leading the way for a very tall, sharply-dressed figure. Oma was way out back with Gabriella and had to crane her neck to see over the heads of the others, but the first glimpse she got of Jeta Clark had her catching her breath.

“Holy tamale,” she breathed, her eyes widening in appreciation. He was shaking hands and greeting the senior employees, who then started with him for the conference room where the management team were all supposed to meet with him.

Gabriella didn’t know what she had expected, but the sight of their new managing director threw her a bit. He was a tall individual, had to be taller than she was, which was rare in a man. He was quite good looking too, if one liked the dimpled-chin, square-jawed type, with broad shoulders that seemed moulded by his power suit, the white of his shirt contrasting sharply with his dark chocolate skin. He was walking past them now, trailed by the welcoming team, and he suddenly glanced her way for a second. He seemed to look right through her, something Gabriella was used to when it came to handsome men – but that didn’t stop the air cutting off from her lungs. He disappeared through the nearby door, and only then could Gabriella breathe again. She turned to look at Oma, who was fanning her face just then, dropping her hand when she saw Gabriella’s accusing look.

“Okay, he’s gorgeous,” Oma shrugged, then added dutifully, “But I still hate him. Let’s go into the conference room and find out what else he’s made of.” Gabriella agreed, but her feet felt somewhat heavy in her flat pumps.

Minutes later, they were all seated at the long conference table in the air-conditioned hall, with Jeta Clark seated at the head, flanked by the heads of department. There were like thirty or so people in the room, and they all seemed to be hanging on the every word of their new boss when he started speaking.

“First of all, I want to thank everyone for the warm welcome,” he said in a voice that seemed as rough yet refined as crushed gravel. “Considering the circumstances, I somewhat expected a lot less. I want to state here and now that I have the utmost respect and admiration for Sanni Jairo; he’s a legend in the field with a fantastic track record with the company. But orders is orders and I came here with a job to do, and I will do it. With the help of you talented lot, of course.” He grinned suddenly, a flash of devastating white, and Gabriella noted with inner annoyance that everyone else was smiling back and nodding warmly. Totally furious that he seemed to have charmed the whole lot in under a minute, she turned to Oma who was seated right next to her, only to catch her friend with her chin in her palm, gazing dreamily down the table at Jeta Clark.

Realizing she had probably lost her last remaining ally, Gabriella scowled in fury, directing the whole venom of her emotions into the glare she sent to the head of the conference table where Jeta Clark sat, an image of ultimate self-assurance that was totally galling. It was quite unfortunate that it was at that moment that he looked up and for the second time that day, caught her eye, and he seemed to start, as if taken aback, and she had to quickly erase the hateful expression from her face, coughing slightly as she dropped her eyes to the file in front of her. Berating herself for her lack of professionalism, she vowed to herself that she would never, never let Jeta Clark see how much she loathed him, but would keep it cool from now on. He was her boss after all, and the last thing she needed was any friction between them.

More so because, at the end of the short meeting, one of the department heads, Osita Okime announced that she, Oma and a few others were to wait behind while the rest of the welcome team left the conference hall. They all gathered at the top end, where Jeta rose to shake hands personally with them all. “I know you all worked closely with Jairo on the last few campaigns we handled, and I’m glad you’ll be on my team.”

“If you have any questions, any question at all, I will be very glad to be of help,” Oma gushed, leaning forward and smiling, her thickly mascara-coated lashes batting prettily at him. He nodded, smiling back.

“Thank you, Miss. . .,” he glanced down at the sheet before him, “Omawumi Cole, I’ll hold you to that.” He glanced Gabriella’s way just then, his dark brow lifted questioningly. “And you, Miss Gabriella Ajai, can I count on you, too? I take it you were a great pillar of support to Sanni Jairo for the past several months.”

Before she could reply, Osita said quickly, “Like I told you, Jeta, Gabriella was Sanni’s personal assistant, she’ll be only too glad to put you up to speed on all the details you will be requiring. Won’t you, Gabriella?” He turned to her with a meaningful look, and she nodded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, while her heart was sinking in her chest.

“Of course, of course,” she replied, “I’ll be only too glad to.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” he nodded, rising to his feet. “Well, I’ll let you all get back to work. And thank you for your time, I’m looking forward to getting to know you all better.” He shook them once more, and as Gabriella made to hurry after the rest of her co-workers, his next words stopped her. “Hold on a minute, Miss Ajai. If you would be so kind as to show me to my new office?”

“Oh, em, certainly, sir,” she said, holding the door so he could walk past her out of the conference room. WinCo was a very sizeable office building, and in silence, she led him through the corridors to where his was situated. It was quite a large office, already re-decorated and to her critical eye, more expensively appointed than Jairo’s had been. They had really pulled out the stops, she thought with irritation, opening the door and walking in, once again holding it open so he could brush past her. And once again she had to inhale what had to be a very delicious, very manly and obviously very expensive whiff of his cologne.

“Well, here we are, sir, your office. I hope you find it comfortable, and – “

“You can cut the crap now, Miss Ajai,” he drawled, sitting on the edge on his chrome desk, folding his arms and regarding her expressionlessly. Surprised, she found herself silenced.

“I got the distinct impression you don’t want me here. That you may even hate me.” He shrugged.  “But like I told you all earlier, I was sent to do a job, and that’s what I intend to do.”

“I. . .I don’t know what you mean, sir. Not want you here? You. . you’ve got me all wrong.”

“Have I? Have I really?” he asked mysteriously, and as his eyes roved her frame from head to foot, she found herself suddenly feeling like he was mentally peeling off her clothes. “Somehow, I do believe there’s more to you than meets the eye.” And then he broke the spell, turning and going to sit behind his desk, leaning back experimentally into the leather swivel chair. “This is quite nice, actually.” He sent her one of those lethal, boyish grins of his, and Gabriella told herself to not be won over so easily.

“I wonder, Gabriella – can I call you that?” he suddenly asked, steepling his fingers under his chin. Without waiting for her reply, he continued, “I wonder, how many romps you and Sanni must have had right here on this chair.”

She was so shocked that an outraged gasp was all she could manage. “What. . what are you insinuating?”

“Let’s just say, I’m not fooled by your school-ma’am facade, Gabby. And I can’t say I believe that all you had with your former boss was just business. Is that why you were so mad I’m here, hmmn? Did I oust your precious lover? Well too bad. Because I’m here to stay.”

“How..dare you,” she finally let out, her eyes so filled with red they were almost steaming up her glasses. “How dare you insinuate that there was anything between me and my former boss? You’re a foul-minded piece of shit, Mr Clark, and you’re right about one thing: I think I do hate you.”

Related posts:

1. Everything Back But You (…chapter 3, tart series)
2. Overload (…chapter 8, tart series)
3. It’s A Pity (…chapter 10, tart series)