Episode 11: The Calculating Rookie and the Empress of Crushing New Hires
Hanamori’s energy was strangely low all morning.
Usually she’d be greeting the male staff, Tamura-san especially, with a “Mooorning~♡” at some mysteriously close distance, but today she was quiet.
Like a robot running out of battery, she sat staring blankly at her materials at her desk diagonally across from mine.
The dark circles under her eyes weren’t fully hidden, even with makeup.
Honestly, not hearing that high-pitched voice was, in its own way, a relief.
“You okay?”
“…Yeah.”
I called over to her; zero energy came back. She looked exhausted.
She’d apparently stayed late again the night before. Revising materials for a rush project, handling client responses, coordinating with other departments, all in a scramble.
I was swamped with a different project myself, but I checked in that evening anyway. “Want a hand?”
“I’m fine.”
She said it, oddly firm in turning me down.
She was still at her computer when I left for the day.
Seeing her state this morning, I figured she really had been pushing herself too hard.
Usually she’d bluff her way through with attitude, but today she didn’t even seem to have the energy for that.
Ten a.m. At the worst possible timing, that woman descended.
“Hanamori-san, got a minute?”
Section Chief Miyashita from sales admin. The office battle-axe. Late forties.
An imposing build, and makeup that felt like a relic of another era.
Nostrils flared, seemingly worked up already, she stomped over to Hanamori’s desk with heavy footsteps.
She has a nickname behind her back.
“The Empress of Crushing New Hires.”
A title that sounds like something off a wanted poster for a pirate.
As far as I know, her track record of bullying new hires has driven three people to quit.
Every year, like she’s hunting, she zeroes in on a new female employee.
Department doesn’t matter to her. If she doesn’t like something, she’ll dig up a flaw and lecture over it.
And this year, by bad luck or by inevitability, the one she’d fixed on was Hanamori.
(Ugh… here we go again.)
I sighed internally.
“Did you check yesterday’s delivery date? It’s off by a day!”
“Eh, um… I did check it…”
“Then why is it off!? The client called, furious, asking ‘what exactly is your company’s management situation like’!”
The chief’s shrill voice rang across the whole floor. Hanamori’s shoulders jumped.
“Checked it how, exactly? You probably just glanced at the screen. When I was new, I had to print everything out and check it with a red pen or I’d get yelled at. Must be nice, being able to slack off like kids today.”
The staff nearby glanced up for a second, then immediately turned back to their monitors. A silent, unspoken agreement: pretend not to see this.
“I’m the one who took the call, got yelled at first thing in the morning, had to apologize. You’d already left for the day without finishing, hadn’t you? This is what happens when you rush off home.”
“Can’t even read a calendar right, getting the deadline wrong like that? Only got your eyes on your weekend date plans, is that it? This client does thirty million a year with us. You know how many times your annual salary that is?”
Section Chief Miyashita slammed her palm on Hanamori’s desk, piling on lecture after lecture.
By her own account, this was “for the younger generation’s sake,” “a growth opportunity.” But really, it was nothing but a public execution.
“And this quote, it’s still the old version! How do you not notice something like that? Do you even have any awareness as a working adult?”
“…I’m very sorry.”
“Honestly, girls like you, all you care about is your looks, there’s nothing underneath. That kind of thing shows in your work too.”
Hanamori’s face went pale. Her voice trembled.
Something in my chest started churning.
And the chief, flaring her nostrils even further, kept going.
“Also, yesterday, on your way back from lunch, you used the elevator, didn’t you? For the third floor.
When I was new, I felt too guilty using the elevator with a superior around, so I’d sprint up the stairs. Kids these days really have no grit. That’s exactly why you all quit so fast.”
The lecture spiraled further into things with nothing to do with anything. The air on the floor froze solid. No one moved. No one helped.
Even Tamura-san had his earbuds in, pretending not to hear. His whole body seemed to be broadcasting I see nothing, I hear nothing.
(So no one’s actually going to say anything.)
My heart was pounding. Normally, I don’t get involved either. Do my own work, let it pass.
But today, something was different.
She’s calculating, boy-crazy, and has a smart mouth on her, sure, but I know Hanamori works hard in her own way.
And right now, that effort was being trampled on, right in front of everyone.
(…This is pissing me off.)
Before I realized it, I was on my feet.
“Chief.”
The floor went silent. Only the hum of the air conditioner remained.
“I have some responsibility in this too, there was an oversight on my end as well. I’ll fix it with Hanamori-san right away.”
“…Asami-san? But this is her own—”
“Yes, it’s without question a mistake. But is it really necessary to shout about it in front of this many people?”
The air stopped. The chief’s eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me?”
“You could just as easily point out a mistake one-on-one, couldn’t you? This isn’t guidance, it’s a public shaming.”
The words kept spilling out of my mouth. Even as I said it, I scared myself. But I couldn’t stop now.
“And also, ‘all you care about is your looks, nothing underneath,’ ‘no grit,’ that kind of thing, what does that have to do with pointing out a mistake?”
The chief’s face stiffened for a moment.
“Pointing out a work mistake and attacking someone’s character are two completely different things. I don’t think you have the right to attack Hanamori-san’s personality or character, Chief.”
The chief’s face flushed redder and redder. Like a tomato ripening in real time.
My mouth kept moving on its own.
“And another thing, everyone in sales, too.”
I looked around. Everyone had their heads down, avoiding eye contact. Were they searching for stains on the floor or something?
“Why didn’t anyone step in? She’s new. You could all see she was about to cry.”
The entire floor, dozens of people, went completely silent.
The overripe tomato, Section Chief Miyashita, swallowed a small breath and gave a scornful little laugh.
“…Asami-san, aren’t you being a bit emotional right now?”
“I’m calm. You’re the one being the most emotional here, Chief.”
I was calm enough to scare myself.
Silence.
Then, Hanamori lowered her head slightly.
“…I’m very sorry.”
The chief said nothing more, just muttered “Fine, whatever,” and stomped back to her own desk.
The tension on the floor eased all at once, like everyone was thinking finally, it’s over. Exhaled breaths could be heard here and there.
Coming back to myself, I sank weakly into my chair. My hands were shaking.
(Oh god… I actually did that…)
Pale, holding my head in my hands, I felt a gaze on me.
I looked up, and my eyes met Hanamori’s.
Her expression was a little sheepish, but she was still trying to force a smile.
That smile looked pained, like she was on the verge of crying but forcing the corners of her mouth up anyway.
Not the saccharine expression she shows the male staff. Not the bratty one she shows me, either.
A face with her raw vulnerability bleeding through.
The corners of her eyes were faintly red, her lips pressed together, holding back a tremble.
My heart skipped, just slightly.
To steady myself, I took a sip of coffee and let out a deep breath.