The Corporate Beast

Oh no, not another meeting. I feel like we have meetings to discuss when to have more meetings. What a colossal waste of time. Oh great, in walks the pontificators. How they love to hear themselves talk. Must they bring food to chomp, clack and talk while their mouth is full? Sometimes I hate apples. 

The trumpets blare; the seas part and the loyal soldiers bend over at attention.

In walks the cold hearted, nut-job with her soulless black eyes peering and burning holes in our heads. She sashays over to the head of the table chomping her gum, snapping and popping bubbles with every step. So classy! Was she the only desk jockey that didn’t have to attend those management 101 classes like the rest of us lemmings? 

Nice to see the brown nosed ass kissers are consistent with their seating selection. I park my non-conforming ass as far away as possible. No need for the pummeling at close range. She scans the room like a lion hunting its most prized prey. Whose turn is it today? Whatever you do, don’t look the beast in the eye. Maybe I should look the bitch I mean beast in the eye. Turning to stone would surely put me out of my misery. Frozen in time to wake up at a later time when she has melted into a green blob leaving behind only her pointed hat, broom, and flying monkeys.  

Her superior than thou air about her is revolting as she continues to hold our happiness and morale in the prison of her darkness. When she barks, her smug smirk indicates you have given the wrong answer you stupid human and will be publicly flogged. She swings her flail around and around until it hits the innocent bystander who had hoped to remain unnoticed. BAM! Solid hit. One down, everyone else to go. How much longer is this meeting anyway. Crap, only 5 minutes has passed. I ponder the thought of having my gall bladder removed. Do we need our gall bladder? If I have it removed, I could escape this hell called work for at least a few weeks. Better than amputating a limb.

Her piercing high pitched shrill somehow lulled me into a trance. I slowly fade away. I am blinded by the darkness not knowing where I am. The cold stone ground beneath my knees is excruciating. The smell of earth, urine and rotting flesh surround me. The dripping water in the background is deafening. My wrists are shackled together with cold metal clamps. I cannot move. Where am I? The fear floods through me. Its grasp takes hold and won’t let go. I need to escape this wretchedness. 

The creaking and groaning of a door opening in front of me shakes me to my core. A bright light illuminates this empty cavern while an 8-foot shadow stands ominously at the doorway. Oh no, it’s her. NOT her.

Her jet-black hair has been replaced with intertwining black mambas. Her black satanic eyes are fierce. Her glare bores holes wherever it touches. Her fangs drip with blood and drool as she saunters towards me.

I pull my bruised arms up as hard as I can to escape the restraints but I am anchored. She continues towards me slowly with calculated steps. I quiver uncontrollably while the clang of her armored cape reverberates in the hollowed dungeon as she approaches my prison. 

She towers over me as my frozen body kneels lifeless at her hooves.  She taps her unsheathed dagger on my head. This is it. She wins. I can no longer combat her power and force. I sink deeper into the cold hard surface beneath me praying for a miracle.  As one of my heroes would say, “Not Today”!

As she prepares to stab me in my back, thoughts of my life play out in my mind. (Of course she tries to stab me in the back, cowards never look you in the eye when they are betraying you).

Beautiful faces of those I love and who love me, consume my thoughts and the crippling fear has somehow subsided. My soul, my inner light shoves aside my ego and I am able to see only one thing…love.

A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. I cannot give up, I will not give up, she will not win and take away my power.  I will not let her. 

The shackles that clenched my wrists tightly are unlocked and I am set free. My fantasy of bashing her over the head with a cast iron skillet no longer holds me hostage. She starts shrinking and becoming more and more insignificant. I stand over her and feel nothing but pity and sadness. As the power I gave her dissipates, she too begins to disintegrate into a meaningless pile of dust and ashes. 

I am finally able to take a deep breath and rest my weary heart. As I approach the open door, a voice bellows outside calling my name. As it continues, I am pulled closer and closer to its origin. As I near the voice, the sound becomes louder and more threatening. Sucked into its vortex, I am suddenly transported back to a conference room filled with a bunch of lackeys. The demonic voice is our incapable leader, impatiently awaiting my answer to one of her nonsensical trick questions. I stare into her dark shark eyes, get up, excuse myself, unlock the barricaded door and walk through the gateway. And to think I had the ruby slippers all along. 

About the Writer

Lynn Finley is a writer and life coach who helps her clients bring a sense of well-being, balance, and ownership to work/life challenges and transitions. Lynn has over 25 years of corporate experience, including as a Senior VP at Disney, where she led a 100-person team and is a Certified Professional Coach. Lynn is a contributing author to the personal transformation book series Pebbles in the Pond-Wave Three and the Grown and Flown website. Learn more