You stood frozen in place, your mind racing as the reality of Scarlett’s words sank in. Scarlett’s towering presence loomed over you like a skyscraper in the middle of a small town, a stark reminder of how powerless you felt in her shadow. You wanted to argue, to assert your authority as the manager, but your lips wouldn't move. The echoes of Jess and Amber’s laughter still rang in your ears, adding salt to the wound. Scarlett's eyes, those sharp, assessing eyes, bore into you, awaiting your next move.
"Tom?" Her voice was soft, almost soothing, but there was a steely edge underneath. "You heard me, didn’t you?"
Your hands fidgeted at your sides, briefly clutching the handle of your briefcase. A twinge of anger flared up inside you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming sensation of helplessness. You knew how this office worked—status, dominance, power. And in this moment, you had none of it.
“I-I…” you stammered, your voice trailing off as you glanced nervously at Jess and Amber, both grinning like predators waiting for their prey to submit.
Scarlett sighed, an exasperated sound, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have time for this, Tom. Coffee. Now.”
The finality of her command snapped something inside you. The thought of trying to argue your way out of this vanished entirely. You lowered your head slightly and muttered, “Yes, Scarlett.” Your voice was meek, submissive, and it disgusted you how easily it came out.
Scarlett nodded, satisfied, and turned her attention back to her phone, ignoring you as if you were no more than a passing thought. Jess, sitting at her desk, leaned back in her chair, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Thanks, Tom,” she smirked. “Make sure it’s hot.”
Amber added with a giggle, “Don’t take too long now. We wouldn’t want to fall behind, would we?”
You nodded quietly, too humiliated to respond. Turning on your heels, you quickly exited the office, feeling their gazes burn into your back as you walked away. Each step down the hallway felt heavier than the last, your chest tightening with the weight of what just happened. You, the newly promoted manager, were fetching coffee like some lowly intern.
As you made your way to the breakroom, you passed a few other employees—none of them seemed to notice or care. To them, you were just another face, another cog in the office machine. They had no idea how powerless you felt, how beneath it all, you secretly craved this kind of dynamic. But that didn’t make the public humiliation any easier to swallow.
The hum of the coffee machine filled the silence as you started preparing the drinks. You focused on the task, trying to push away the swirling thoughts of how pathetic you felt. “A latte for Scarlett, Americano for Jess, and Amber wanted…” You wracked your brain for a second, feeling ridiculous for trying so hard to remember their exact orders. "Right. A cappuccino."
The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it all seemed. You should have refused. You should have stood your ground. But there was something about the way Scarlett had looked at you, the way Jess and Amber had backed you into a corner. You couldn’t fight it. And worse still, deep down, a part of you didn’t want to.
As you finished making the coffees, your mind wandered to earlier moments with Scarlett—those early days when she had been under your supervision, when you had the upper hand. She was so eager back then, respectful even. But she had turned the tables, hadn’t she? Now she was in charge, and you were just another subordinate.
Balancing the tray in your hands, you walked back to the office, feeling the heat of the coffee cups radiate through the plastic. Each step felt like a march of shame. When you arrived, you knocked on the door lightly, waiting for the signal to enter.
"Come in, Tom," Scarlett called, her voice laced with an air of superiority.
You entered, careful not to meet their eyes as you placed the coffees down on the desk. Jess and Amber exchanged glances, their smirks never fading. “Wow, that was fast,” Amber said, taking her cappuccino. “Good job, Tom. Maybe you’re better suited for this kind of work.”
Jess picked up her Americano and took a sip. “Hmm, not bad. Maybe you’ve missed your calling. You could always switch to being a barista if this management thing doesn’t work out.”
Their words stung, but you kept quiet, nodding along as if you were somehow grateful for their twisted praise. Scarlett, meanwhile, sipped her latte without a word, her attention focused on something else entirely, as if your servitude wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
For a brief moment, you dared to look at her, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly powerful she appeared. Her long legs crossed, her posture commanding—there was no doubt she was in control. You hated how much it affected you. Every fiber of your being wanted to resist, to push back, but standing there in that room, surrounded by these women, you felt impossibly small.
Scarlett finally glanced at you, her eyes flicking over your form with mild amusement. “Good. Now that that’s settled, Tom, go back to your desk and catch up on your work. We have a busy day ahead.”
The dismissal was clear. You were no longer needed here, and your presence was already forgotten. You gave a curt nod, muttering something that barely passed as a response, before turning to leave.
As you walked back to your office, your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger. Frustration. Embarrassment. And beneath it all, a gnawing sense of excitement that you tried desperately to ignore. This wasn’t what you had signed up for. You were supposed to be their equal now, their boss. But every interaction with them only seemed to chip away at that illusion.
Sitting down at your desk, you stared at the pile of work waiting for you, but your thoughts were elsewhere. The office was a battlefield of power dynamics, and today, you had lost. Worse still, you didn’t know if you even wanted to win.
You glanced over at Scarlett’s office, the door now closed. The women inside were probably still laughing, still mocking you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You knew you should be angry—furious, even—but all you felt was a strange, aching need for their approval. For their attention.
For their control.
With a sigh, you picked up your pen and started working. The day wasn’t over yet, and there would be more battles to fight. But for now, you would meekly obey.
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