Stevenson

I never did like Stevenson. Her dapper hair, her herringbone suits, her brand-name blouses, and her fancy Italian pumps. Lots of people did though. I never understood why.

Stevenson showed up at the office at 7:45 every morning. I was the only one who ever beat her in. Like me, she'd have a cup of coffee and skim over the morning paper. She never noticed I was the one who made the first pot of coffee. Maybe she thought the janitor made it. She drank it black, too, which wasn't bad, I suppose. I've never understood anyone who didn't, especially the coffee I made.She might not know who made it, but she always found something good to say. Every morning she'd sip her coffee and launch into long-winded monologues about how good that first pot of coffee tasted. I never believed a word of it.

She never once thanked me for making coffee.

As the morning unfolded I watched her from the corner of one eye. At 8:05 sharp, exactly thirty seconds before me, she'd set aside the paper and read over the morning reports. I really hated that. Maybe it scared me a little. Before Stevenson joined the company I was the only one who actually read them.

The morning sales meeting began at 8:15, although Stevenson and I were the only ones on time. By half past eight, everyone would finally be there. Then the sales manager would arrive. The first thing he'd do would be ask me to review the morning reports. In the days before Stevenson, that was my finest hour. I'd stand up, swallow to clear my throat, and go over the market reports from Hong Kong, Singapore, Shanghai and Bangkok. People would ask me questions, the sales manager would compliment me, and I'd start off the day feeling like a million bucks.

Stevenson changed everything. Halfway through the Hong Kong report she'd pop in with some minor detail I'd overlooked. I could never finish Shanghai without her making some kind of piercing comment about Chinese trade practices. The fact that she'd studied in Hong Kong and was always right only made it worse. God, I really hated that! That wasn't the worst part though. Oh no, what finally got to me were all the other annoying things she made it a habit of doing.

At the end of every morning meeting, the sales manager would compliment us both, then order me to work with her! Three years I worked at that company without a partner. For three long years I did everything! I contacted Asian clients, I found new customers, I faxed information back and forth, I sent hundreds of e-mail, closed dozens of sales, and brought in unimaginably huge profits. What kind of appreciation did I get? Stevenson, who stole my glory and spent her working hours trying to outshine me.

Every day it got worse. The more sales we made, the more contacts we gathered, the harder it was to keep our two groups of clients apart. If I was busy, she'd take my sales calls, closing negotiations without even asking. How could anyone be so impudent? Never once did I close a sale with one of her clients without asking first. Not once! I'd ask, she'd give me one of her covergirl smiles, and with caustic politeness tell me to go ahead. God, she was such a pain to work with!

Finally, after six months of morning meetings spent in turmoil, lunch meetings to discuss strategy, dinner meetings to set out the next day's goals, weekend planning sessions and joint attendance at overseas conferences, I broke. I couldn't take it anymore. Watching her erode away at my standing in the company, hearing her musical voice burning in my ears, the scent of her French perfume and the clean smell of the soap she used, it was all just too much to bear. I did what any sane man in my position would do. In the end you see, our simultaneous promotions left me no choice.

I married her.