Shutting Down Sadie

As Sadie lowered herself in to the lavender fumes, she offered mental thanks to the inventor of bath bombs. Not only did they provide a bizarre kind of entertainment as they fizzed into obscurity, they were the bearers of soothing oils and scents. Which she desperately needed after the week she had. 

Her mother taught her that bathing was a ritual; that a few handfuls of salt and essential oil could help wash away the most horrid day. Sadie lay back, her head against the raised back of the Victorian tub, and waited. Images from the afternoon swirled around her like the steam rising off the water.

Of course, the beginning was innocuous enough. Jon Teller invited her for a chat in his office.

"There seems to be a spot of bother, Sadie. I'm told you're struggling. How can I help you?"

"Jon, you have entrusted Damian and me with running the afternoon radio slot. The thing is, that Damian is late every day. Or he doesn't arrive. When he has to prepare, he chooses to fly by the seat of his pants. He leaves me hanging, Jon. There's dead air that I have to fill and he doesn't seem bothered by it. You know that's every deejay's nightmare. I don't think it's right."

"I see. Is that all?"

"No. You know this isn't the first time I've had an issue with Damian. And when I try to address the fact that he's tardy and doesn't do his job properly, nothing is done."

Jon shifted in his seat. "Am I to understand that you have been discussing this with others?"

"Damian's ineffectual behaviour is common knowledge, Jon."

"I see. But you must understand that he is answering to many masters. There's me, the brand promoters and the station manager."

"You're not telling me that you think I am in the wrong?"

"I think you are letting your feelings cloud your judgement."

"So, Damian doesn't do his job, doesn't show up for his slot, doesn't meet the deadlines and somehow this becomes my fault?"

"You know, Sadie, what I've always liked about you was how organised you are. You like structure, which is why you work well in radio where there are timeslots and ad breaks and a playlist you can tinker with. Damian is more creative and off the cuff. But he still gets the job done."

"He gets it done late, Jon. And he becomes rude when I point out that it's late."

"Which brings me back to my original point. It's important for us here at Radio Gaga to present a united front to our advertisers and listeners. So, when Damian is late in getting his proposal for how we're going to work craft beer adverts into our broadcast to Floyd in marketing, then you need to cover him."

"I cannot believe what I am hearing."

"I'm not saying you can't take him to task afterwards, but I think Floyd and the craft beer company don't need to know that Damian treats deadlines as blurry lines. Am I right in saying that you told Floyd that you were waiting for Damian to give you his outline for the five o'clock segment but that he wasn't answering your emails?"

Sadie nodded.

"You see, now that was the wrong thing to say."

"Why? It's the truth!"

Jon raised his hand. "Be that as it may, your job is to let everyone think that things are under control. Even if it means being 'fake' sometimes." He added air quotes for emphasis. "I mean, something as simple as saying 'Go ask Damian' also sends a message. You need to consider the kind of impression you are creating with your words." A grimace appeared on his face. "The last thing you want to do is say something that could be misinterpreted."

Sadie felt her biology respond to the rage in her soul. "Are you saying that it's OK if Damian screws up? Or that he belittles, undermines and blames me when things go wrong?"

"Not at all. You must trust me to deal with him. You do trust me, don't you, Sadie?"

She did not trust herself to speak.

"Look, I know you and Damian have very different working styles. I think you must learn to be more flexible. Allow him to do his thing."

"He's left me hanging with dead air, Jon. He's let me down. He's disorganised and late with everything. He steals my work and my ideas and then bastardises them so that the end result is of inferior quality. And you're saying I should be OK with that? While he might like to fly by the seat of his pants, Jon, his lack of planning affects me. It makes me anxious because I never know when he'll deliver on his promises."

Jon smirked. "I am a lot like you, Sadie. I also don't like it when people take my work and make me look bad."

"Damian doesn't make me look bad. I make him look bad because I am efficient and damn good at what I do. That's why he gets nasty with me."

"Yes, yes, I'm getting to that. But the thing is, Sadie, you have to find a way to work with him. Tell me, what are you going to do differently in future?"

Sadie felt as though she'd swallowed a bowling ball. 

"Because you have to work with him, you know."

"In all honesty, Jon, I don't want to. I know that makes me sound like I am not a team player, or whatever, but I am not going to act as if I like him. You weren't there when he yelled at me for an hour after he messed up a proposal for Floyd and tried to blame me. Did you know that Alice, Richard and Dan all heard him? And their offices are on the other end of the floor. He also got Sue involved to take his side and chide me. I have tried for three years to make it work, at great personal cost and by putting myself under pressure. I am not going to work with him. I will email him and be civil in meetings but I will not deal with him directly."

"So what do we do, going forward?"

"I don't know, Jon." Her voice was hollow. "Because nothing is going to change."

"Does that mean you're at a crossroads with Radio Gaga?"

"Yes, I am."

The corners of his lips were upturned, but his eyes radiated condescension.

"Right. So you're going to watch what you say in future. You're going to present a united front and not let on to anyone that anything is wrong. You're also going to trust me to manage Damian. And, please, no more emails where you state your grievances, all right? They don't help your case."

Sadie knew there was no point in saying anything. So much for her colleagues telling her that she was loved and supported and that they all knew what an idiot Damian was. She was alone in this fight; alone in standing up for herself and alone standing up for what is right. As Lara, her producer, said, most of their work mates were too afraid to offer public support, lest Damian and Jon turn on them.

"Is there anything else, Sadie? Anything you want to get off your chest?"

"No." Her voice was small. She kept her eyes on the carpet.

"Right. That settles it." Jon stood and opened the door. 

The mist on the bathroom mirror had become condensation. She would have to wipe it up later. At least the bathwater hid the condensation on her face: the knowledge that Jon would brag to Damian about how he'd gone about shutting down Sadie.