The Bully

The psychological profile of bullies attributed to three main causes. One, underneath all that male bravado there's a insecure little girl just banging on the closet door trying to get out. Two, like a caveman, the brain is underdeveloped, therefore unable to utilize self control. Three is to make up for the deficiency in the state of manhood.

Here I am, in my cubicle for the past 15 years, never taken a day off if you can believe it. I must be the record setter if anyone even cares for such a thing. But let’s face facts, the sales team are the real engine that drive the company. They generate the revenue, which is the lifeblood of any company. They hold the power, they are the Alphas. Almost inevitably such driven people are type ‘A’ personalities; motivated, opinionated and tenacious. By no coincidence, most high level executives are men, very much a boys club. Once in a while, you throw in a pretty lady to avoid a lawsuit, soon enough, she gets replaced to avoid a lawsuit. These executives are everyone’s envy and drive, hoping to one day be like them - smooth talking, charming with deep pockets. I used to look upon them like kings of the castle, God’s to the heaven, but no more. Beneath that shining exterior, they are pigs. Kent is the worst of the worst, a bully, a sexual predator and a braggart. Kent gets what Kent wants. Always. Nobody stands in his way, or dare to for that matter. He is the company’s prized asset, always topping the sales figures, always bringing home the bacon. At least in figures, he’s can’t do any wrong.

15 years and you would think I know the real Kent Brown. I’ve seen him reduce another man to tears. In more than one occasion, mind you. He might have thought it was hilarious seeing a grown man weep, prideless and helpless. Yes, he has the power and he will never let anyone forget it. Welcome to the world of Kent Brown. You hear him boast of his latest conquest of such and such ladies – air stewardesses, nurses, doctors, twins, handicapped, super models, even the chairman’s wife and his daughter. The fact is by the time the news have spread to my side of the office, a new one would have began. He does not give anyone a chance to refuse him. That is why he is so successful. I feel sorry for the girls. Before you know it the whole office would have heard how easy they were. Credits to Kent, no doubt. ‘She must be some sort of easy slut. A whore’. Within no time at all they have become persona non grata. Bottom line is he makes me sick. Words cannot express what a vile, loathsome and repulsive specimen he truly is.

It was at the annual summer ball. It was a thank you from the suits upstairs. It was also probably some sort of huge tax write off. All the staff came every year, bringing along their partners, husbands, wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. I had taken Genève along with me. We weren’t exactly a long-standing item. But the important thing is that we came together. She was beautiful. She had almost pure black hair that hung down her back to her waist, soft olive skin and the most beautiful green eyes. She had told me she was from Italy. I was so pleased when she turned heads. Most people must have just thought ’what a lucky guy!’. Kent, however, with a sickening inevitability, clearly felt that he needed to do something to reverse my good fortune. He needed to humiliate me and exert his dominance. People would be watching. He came over. He made his introductions and set about dominating the conversation. He made Genève laugh, whilst at the same time slowly reducing my worth. Little digs to begin with. ‘he’s a good little lad, like a loyal little puppy, aren’t you boy..’. He also skillfully built his credibility, never missing an opportunity to underscore his prowess and power. ‘I was the first guy to bring home bonuses twelve months in a row…’. He bought her drinks. He made her laugh some more. They danced. They slow danced. They went outside. And then later in the evening I realized they were gone….

He came into the office this morning, made a detour to my corner. He wasted no time in closing in like a shark on the scent of blood.

“Were you all lonely on Sunday morning?” he said with a horrible fake air of concern. Mocking me. He leant in with that sickening sweet stench of last night’s alcohol.

“Didn’t you notice that your little lady was missing?….”

Warm coffee vapours clung to his breath, smelling like something newly dead.

“All I can say is that I looked after her for you…”, he grasped his groin with grotesque theatricality, “.. You know that sometimes a real man has got to step up…, and do the business…” His lips tightened across his gritted teeth, in a contemptuous sneer. He just laughed at me.

I could now see the white crusted sweat rings under his armpits. Close up he was nothing special. He shouldn’t be better than me. He leant in even closer.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll show you the photos later…”

With that, he stood up, turned away and swaggered back across the office. Stopping only to share something with one of the new girls on the telesales team….

I leant back on my chair, staring at the walls of my office. Actually, I wouldn’t really call it an office. It’s just a space where I can grab some peace and quiet between call outs. Most of the staff would not even know where I am - somewhere behind the document storage rooms. Now, if you’re feeling sorry for me, don’t.

I wasn’t all that cut up about it. Shit happens, you know. Like I said with Kent, he’s so predictable. I suppose I kind of knew he wouldn’t be able to resist temptation. You want to know the truth? The truth is that I’m actually very, very pleased with the way things panned out. God, he’s so predictable. …oh yes..… and there is something I may have neglected to mention.. you know Genève, well the beautiful Genève is actually a postoperative transsexual…and guess what? ..she is also HIV positive. We met over the net. We were two lost and lonely souls, travelling through cyberspace, reaching out for a kindred spirit. When we connected it was like it was… ..destiny. We had such a lot in common. It seemed we had a shared loathing for bullies. She had been infected by one. And of course we shared the same wicked sense of humour…

So it is that I sit here in my little room with my finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. This anonymous e-mail, with its photo attachment will make interesting reading for the chairman, and all the other members of the staff, oh, and of course not forgetting Kent’s clients….

What was I saying about bullies? Survival of the fittest. 15 years. I have become quite good at this game.

Click.