A Really Dysfunctional Scene

Welcome to Fiction Friday.

I haven’t posted a Fiction Friday in ages. This week I have a scene with Greg, an easygoing office manager and his employee, Mack, a type A who is doing everything he can to undermine, demean and resist his boss’s efforts to complete a big project. It is an example of a dysfunctional relationship.

“Hello Mack, how are you doing, today?”
“Okay, still working on this project.” Mack closed his manila folder and looks up from his desk. “Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to tell you I have the article for the front page written.” Greg held out his file.
Mack took the file and flipped it open. After skimming or pretending to read it, he says, “I don’t think you understand. You should redo this.”
Greg is flabbergasted.

Okay, now what do I do? Pick my battles? Screw this. I’m tired of it.

Greg shifted his stance, stood as tall as he could and squared his shoulders. “Mack, you are doing a great job but you seem a bit confused.”
Mack shifted in his chair and shot a look toward his computer screen. “Confused?”
“Yes. I am the lead manager. I am the guy in charge of this project. When I give you a file it is not for your approval. I’m not asking for edits, opinions or permission to go ahead.” Greg waited.
Mack shifted in his chair again. He shifted his gaze from the computer to Greg. He raised his eyebrows and waited.
After an uncomfortable silence, Mack spoke, again. “Well, I’m going to have to disagree.”
“You do know this isn’t a democracy.”
As Greg turned to leave he heard Mack mumbling behind him.

He always has to have the last word.

Greg shrugged off the tension in his shoulders and headed down to the coffee shop.

Greg returned a half hour later.  He rounded the corner and stepped into his office.

He sat down behind his desk and leaned back in his office chair.  Greg looked up and saw his file had been stapled to the ceiling page by page.

He reached for the phone. Superglued. Drawers, superglued.  Anything that could be glued down was, well, glued down.

“MACK.”

“I always get the last word,” Mack said as the elevator swallowed him and his cardboard box.

“Who took down the sign?”

Don’t touch anything sharp.

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