Wrong Place Wrong Time

She had gotten tired of the dreadlocks that her mother had cultivated since before her first period. Shaquana, hadn't realized just how much of her hair would have to be cut in order to rid herself of the distinct style. She had wanted to be less conspicuous and definitively African-American. 

Shaquana, hated her name and insisted that people call her by her last name, London. It sounded more Anglo to her ear, and less likely to reveal her ethnicity. Of course the short nappy afro that replaced the magnificent locks, was still a dead giveaway. 

Shaquana, was a reformed thot. She had been wild in college and had the tramp stamp tattoo to prove it. After another failed relationship, and having to raise a special needs son alone, she was angry. Her anger was reflected in all of her dealings. 

Shaquana, believed that she had found a Niche in corporate America. She believed that her job as director of operations, was the door to her dreams. No matter who she offended stepped on or terminated she was determined to make this opportunity work. 

At the office she was firm and fair, in her mind. Her people described her as petty, spiteful, and vengeful. Her professionalism wasn't nearly as apparent, as London liked to believe. Any man placed in her department soon found himself transferred or unemployed.  London's immediate supervisor stood between her and the scrutiny of the Human Resources dept. 

John Johnson, had just gotten placed on London's team and the cramped fit was instantly clear. Johnson was the type of employee who read the handbook from cover to cover, that overdressed every day, and who required minimal direction. 

Outline Mr. Johnson’s duties and he would perform them admirably. Not only did John not require much direction, he could not thrive with an excess of it. He had been fortunate enough to be hired while London was at a management retreat and then on a two-week vacation. He had only had to deal with her for a single day. 

London’s vacation brought its own brand of stress. She wasn't able to afford the getaways that her coworkers enjoyed. She had even overheard her “underlings” talk about the exotic destinations they went to. She had adopted the “underlings” phrase from O'Toole her supervisor. 

O'Toole was the type of gay man one expected to be in a position of authority.  He wasn't over the top and flaunting of his sexuality. He realized that if you want to be treated as an equal, then the same behavioral expectations must apply. 

A straight man who paraded around the office making sure everyone knew he was heterosexual would be reprimanded and he believed that a gay person who drew attention to their sexuality should be treated the same. 

So it came as a surprise when O'Toole acted like her girlfriend on the retreat.  The retreat had been the best part of the entire three weeks. The company had paid for the management staff's accommodation. Other management employees complained about the tawdry round “bungalows” with the thatched roofs, London found it magical.  

The free drinks and seafood from the grill were awesome and London allowed herself to relax a little bit.  O'Toole relaxed a lot. He got really drunk and loose lipped, and he made London his confidant. They both slept with peers from different areas.

London spent the next two weeks at her mother’s house in Savannah, Georgia and was reminded of why she had left.

 Her return to the job was actually welcomed after the week with her mother. 

London strutted into her office space.  Her sister Shequisha had braided extensions into her hair. She was feeling herself more than ever. London had poured over her department's progress the night before and noted that her new employee had broken her productivity record and then broken his own. 

 She wasn't impressed, despite the fact that it was making her money London was upset.

It didn't help that she suspected that she had developed a UTI.  She needed to establish the pecking order and let this John Johnson know where the buck stopped. Normally she would walk over to her “underlings” desks just to stand over them as she spoke to them. 

She decided to have Mr. Johnson come to her. His line was busy. “He wants to play!” London, buzzed another subordinate the one that sat in the cubicle next to John's. “Please inform Mr. Johnson that I need to see him in my office!” 

It was a full hour later, London was seething. She hadn't made a single collection call. Johnson still had not come to her “Office” the largest cubicle, on the 6th floor.

The cubicle that Johnson had chosen wasn't in the direct line of sight of hers. However each time she buzzed him his line was busy.

London, was quickly becoming Shaquana. She was angry that this Man who was attractive, articulate and obviously good at his job, was still out of reach. Mr. Johnson was married and he seemed to be the loyal type. On top of that he was defying her.

 Her underlings were supposed to jump whenever, wherever, however and as high as she demanded. Shaquana expected a certain amount of respect. This Johnson fellow was getting too big for his britches.  

Shaquana, quit calling, she signaled the worker next to Johnson and cancelled her request. She used her access to look at the time sheets for the two weeks she'd been gone. Nothing. “Maybe, I can write him up for clocking in too early” 

London realized that she couldn't do that.  She did send an email to the entire dept.

”Hello team y'all are clocking in a little early you are expected to clock in no more than 5 minutes before your shift. In the future this will be cause for a write up. Thank you for all that you do.

Sincerely Shaquana London” 

John Johnson’s phone remained busy. He was having an awesome day. His productivity was off the charts. John had noticed that the entire office temperature had changed as Ms. London returned. He didn't care, he was only there to perform his job. The email bothered John when it arrived. 

 It was directed to him, and in direct violation of company policy. The policy dictated a smooth hand off of the phone system. The policy stated that an employee was “Expected to arrive 15 minutes prior to their assigned shift to assure that no incoming calls are missed." 

John, replied to the email that London had sent. He copied and pasted the company policy into his email and continued to make collection calls as he composed and sent the brief reply.

Angrier than ever, London decided to go confront him. "Mr. Johnson!" London, was prepared to start an entire speech, when the offending underling held up his hand to silence her.  "Yes sir I understand that, but how much are you going to be paying today?" The question was part of the script that London's employer had been using since before she started but she had never heard it asked with such sincerity and feeling. Part of her screamed, "This dude is doing the job, leave him alone!" But the irritation in her genitals, and the fact that this was her department made her continue. "PARDON ME MR. JOHNSON!"

John tried to keep the irritation off of his face as he asked the customer he was speaking to, to please hold. Even as he said it he knew that the man he had bullied into grabbing his card would hang up before he could return to the line.

"Ms. London, this better be important I just lost commission that was going to benefit both of us." Even as he said it the light that indicated that he had a call on hold switched back to green indicating that the prospective bill payer had disconnected.

"Oh no he didn't!"  Shaquana, thought as she arranged her thoughts. "I wanted to discuss my email!" John breathed deeply before responding.

"Yes ma'am, I responded to that email...via email. I am trying to collect another $3000 before the day's end. Is there something other than a clear violation of company guidelines to discuss?" 

The man's bored tone coupled with the discomfort in her thong, were more than Shaquana could take. "First of all I will decide what company policy is and what isn't! Secondly why did you feel the need to address that email to the entire department? Third, how can you be so busy that you can't respond to your BOSS?"

John Johnson's face was incredulous. He thought about what he was going to say before he said it and was unapologetic. "You are not my boss, company policy is clearly lined out, and I simply responded to the email you sent. I don't have the time or the inclination to deal with childish ego games, I am here to make money."

Unable to obtain the upper hand London returned to her desk seething.

The next three weeks Shaquana’s other employees had it easy. All she could focus on was causing John Johnson to fail.

She had no legitimate reason for wanting the man to fail. His success was key to her making money as well.

John knew that Ms. London was trying to make his life difficult. He didn’t know why. He needed to make money bills were piling up and Child support was threatening to take his driver’s license. John was putting up astronomical numbers because he couldn’t afford to do anything else.

London had changed John’s schedule and he still made money. She cut his hours, changed his call sheets, and gave him the most difficult collections John made the most of it.

Everything came to a disastrous head one Wednesday afternoon. If he hadn’t just spoken to his ex-wife who had kidnapped their son and moved him across the country, it might not have happened. If his current wife had not sent the angry text message it might not have pushed him to the edge.

If traffic hadn’t sucked, if coffee hadn’t spilled on his tie, if his underwear weren’t tight, a million small irritants had converged to make it the perfect storm.

For her part London’s UTI had gotten worse and was causing her to have an unpleasant aroma, her obsessive behavior towards Mr. Johnson was affecting her productivity and were it not for John Johnson her pay would have been suffering.

Shaquana was supposed to be leaving for a Dr.’s appointment.

John was coming into the job. He swears to himself even now as he is serving time for it. Promises he didn’t intend to push her off the cross walk. It was an accident he is sure, just his large shoulder brushing against her and causing her to fall the 6 inch heels couldn’t have helped either.

He simply spun around as she started yelling and was too close to her, he tried to catch her as she back pedaled off the bridge spanning their building and its nearest neighbor. 
Just the wrong place at the wrong time.