Lauren: Hot and Cold

The rest of my week is painful and torturous.  I'm not even being that dramatic.  Luckily, Sean was busy most of Monday overseeing the cube swap, but everyone is moved by Tuesday, and it's back to business as usual.

On Tuesday afternoon, I'm sitting at my desk working like I usually am when I become aware of someone standing behind me.  I turn and am surprised to see Sean there, watching me intently.  "Yes?" I ask curtly.  I'm on a roll and I don't appreciate the interruption.

"I'm just watching you.  You do things a little differently than most people, so it's interesting to watch you work," he replies, leaning against the side of my cube.

"I do my best work when I'm not being watched," I say pointedly.

Sean chuckles, clearly getting my point.  "Do I make you nervous?"

I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes.  I'm going to end up getting myself fired if this keeps up.  My former supervisor knew how I worked and just let me do my thing.  I always get my stuff done on time and it's always good work.  This micromanaging bullshit is going to get old quickly.  "No, but I do get a little thrown off when I'm interrupted."

"I didn't interrupt you," he points out.  "I didn't say anything.  I was just watching."

I sigh and turn back to my computer, perfectly conscious of him still standing directly behind me.  I try to get back into what I was doing, but it's hard.  Finally, Sean squeezes my shoulder (which  makes me cringe), says he'll see me later, and leaves.

I'm cranky the rest of the day.  By 5pm, I'm ready to shut down my computer and leave, even though I'm almost finished with what I'm working on and could be done in 15 minutes.  I'd normally just stay and finish, but not today.  As I pack up my stuff, I glance at Sean's office.  Logan is sitting in the chair across from Sean's desk, looking perfectly casual and relaxed.  He looks up when I start moving and then he grins and winks at me before turning back towards Sean.  My nostrils flare in annoyance and I leave quickly.

The week drags because of my new cube and because I'm counting down the days until Friday is over and my vacation starts.  Alex and I are leaving on Sunday for Savannah.  His parents are, as I knew they would be, a little perplexed by the fact that we're staying in a hotel for the first few nights of our trip.  They tried to talk us into staying with them Wednesday through Saturday, but Alex talked them down to Thursday and Friday night.  We're staying in a hotel in the historic district Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights, and doing our own thing without them.  I'm actually really looking forward to it.

But first, I need to make it through the rest of this awful week.  Sean pulls the same shit from Tuesday nearly every day.  Just wanders up behind me, watches silently for awhile, and leaves...sometimes touching me and sometimes not.  Finally, on Thursday, I turn and say, "Please stop touching me."

"Oh, that's right," Sean replies, semi-apologetically.  "You don't like that.  I'll keep that in mind."  He nods and continues walking away.  What the fuck.

On Friday, he walks out of his office and over to me, but instead of silently observing me, he says, "I have a project for you, can you come in to my office?"

I stand and follow him into his office, relieved when he doesn't shut the door.  I sit and he explains the project to me, then says, "I need this finished up before Thanksgiving next week."

I give him a weird look.  "That isn't going to work," I reply carefully.  "I'm on vacation all next week."  I glance at the clock.  It's already after 2, there's no way I can finish what he wants done before I leave today.

He frowns, his forehead creasing in confusion and...irritation?  "I don't remember approving a vacation request for you."

"I got it approved before you started," I tell him.  "A couple weeks before you started, I think."

"Yes, but I'm here now and I need to approve all time off requests," he replies brusquely.

"Sean, it was already approved," I say, shaking my head.  "And I'm not aware of a policy that says that time off requests have to be resubmitted in the event of a change in management."  He stares me down and I set my jaw and return his stare.  He's not going to intimidate me.  "I submitted my request to HR as well, maybe they could help clear this up," I suggest calmly.

Sean's eyes get icy at the mention of HR, but he picks up the phone and stabs at a button.  "Mary?  Yes.  I need some help sorting out a time off request," he barks into the phone.  He fills Mary in and then listens intently for about 30 seconds before saying, "I see.  Thank you." He hangs the phone up and looks up at me.  "Well, you're in luck.  They have the request.  Next time, it needs to go through me."

"Next time it will go through you, because you're now my supervisor," I point out.  He narrows his eyes but I hold his gaze.  I'm clearly on thin ice but I don't even care.

"Of course," he says smoothly, rearranging his face into a cheerful impression.  "Well, I apologize for the mix-up.  I think I'll ask Logan to take on the project instead.  And maybe you should get an early start on your vacation, you've been working so hard this week."

"I'm sorry?" I ask, confused.  "I'm not done with--"

"Finish up whatever you're working on and then go ahead and take the rest of the day off," he says, interrupting me.

Now I narrow my eyes.  "Am I in trouble?" I ask.

"What?" he replies, looking incredulous.  "Of course not.  You're one of our best employees and I feel bad for the confusion.  Finish up what you're working on and take the rest of the day."

"Okay, thanks," I say reluctantly.  I feel completely perplexed by his sudden change in attitude and I don't trust him at all.  I stand and walk back to my desk, getting back to work on what I was doing.

An hour later, I'm finishing up and replying to a couple emails.  "You're still here?" Sean asks cheerfully from behind me, making me jump.  I hadn't heard him walk up.  "I thought I told you to get out of here."

"You told me to finish what I was doing," I reply carefully.  "I just did, and now I'm wrapping up a few emails and setting my out of office message."

"Okay," he says, but he doesn't move.  He stands and watches me finish up my emails and set my auto-response.  I really wasn't planning on leaving early, but with him standing there I feel like I need to follow his directions, so I start to pack up my stuff.  "Are you going anywhere fun on your time off?" he asks.

I hesitate, then say, "Savannah.  My boyfriend's parents live there."

"Savannah is a wonderful city," Sean replies.  "Make sure you eat at the Olde Pink House while you're there."

"Thanks for the recommendation."  I'm uneasy again, and I don't like how friendly he's being after the cold looks and blunt disapproval I just got from him about my time off.  It's throwing me off and I don't know what to make of it.  I wonder if he's going to walk me all the way to the door to make sure I leave, but when I put my work bag on my shoulder and grab my purse, he starts to turn back towards his office.

"Have a wonderful trip," he says, reaching out to touch my arm.  Just as his fingers graze me, he pulls back.  "Whoops, sorry.  No touching."  He holds both hands up, smiles a surprisingly disarming smile, then strides towards his office.

I drive straight to Alex's house.  He had worked some overtime earlier in the week and was planning to leave work early today, so I assume he's home.  He is, and he looks surprised when he answers my knock and sees me standing there.  "Lauren, what's wrong?" he asks, immediately concerned.  He steps back and reaches for me as I come inside.

"I need a new job," I spit out angrily, dodging his attempt to touch me.  Alex says nothing, smartly waiting for me to continue.  "I can't work with him."

"With Sean," he says.  A statement, not a question.

"Yes!"  I tell him the story, and Alex appears slightly more concerned this time than last time, but I can tell he still thinks I'm overreacting.

When I'm done talking, Alex considers his words carefully.  "Do you think--" he starts, but he stops abruptly, reconsidering.  I can tell that he knows that he's likely to piss me off with whatever he says but that he's trying his best not to.  "I wonder if he really was just confused?" he finally asks.

"Maybe he was," I agree.  "But his face...He was so cold.  And then the switch flipped and he was so friendly and happy again.  And I don't know what to make of him sending me home early."

"Well, do you want some good news?" Alex asks, probably hoping to avoid an argument with me while I'm all worked up.

I consider continuing to rant and rave awhile longer but realize all it will do is get me more upset.  Maybe the subject change will help.  "Sure," I say finally.  I kick off my heels and collapse in a heap on Alex's couch, worn out from the long week of being on edge from being closely observed.

"My mom called today and told me that they're also have the neighbor and his daughter over for Thanksgiving dinner."

"Why is that good news?" I ask, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose.  Alex sits next to me and starts to rub my neck. I involuntarily stiffen for a split second then relax, sagging against him.

"Because if they're distracted by them, that means you'll at least get to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner a little more," he explains.  "They get weird about guests, and will probably focus most of their attention on neighbor dude and his daughter."

"That is good news," I agree, leaning into Alex's fingers.  He works his thumb and middle finger down either side of my neck, pressing into the tensely knotted muscles there.

"You're so tense," he comments, using his hands to shift me into a better position.  He goes back to rubbing my neck and shoulders--now with both hands, his thumbs pressing firmly into the mess of angry muscles that seem to be trying to permanently attach my shoulders to my ears.

"You would be too," I reply drily.  I try to consciously relax my muscles but they seem stuck.

"You're right," he agrees.  "I would be."  It's exactly what I needed to hear, and my shoulders relax incrementally.  He gives my shoulders and gentle squeeze and says, "Let's go upstairs.  You can lay down and I can do a better job.  You're a mess."

"You sure know how to sweet talk me," I reply, laughing despite myself.  I stand and follow him upstairs, but I just can't leave my uneasy feeling behind.