PERFORMANCE REVIEW

copyright: Lesley Tara, 2012

Julie MacDonald watched the other workers in the office gather up their things and get ready to leave at the end of the day, but on this Thursday afternoon she made no move to join them, and just called out cheerfully ‘goodnight’ and ‘see ya in the morning’, or just waved to the women who were further away. In truth, she was rather nervous and preoccupied, but trying not to let it show – although the reason for her tension was not exactly a secret. One of the youngest women, Lise-Jo, who seemed really nice and had been particularly welcoming to the newcomer, detoured on her way out to give Julie a sympathetic smile and an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

‘Don’t you worry, you’ll be fine … really, I’m sure it’ll be just fine.’

And with that kindness, Lise-Jo was gone, the last to leave the suddenly empty and almost silent office – almost, because in the unusual tranquillity there could now be heard the faintest murmur of someone talking, behind the door of the separate and enclosed private office of the manager of the department, Ms. Fenton.

Julie had begun working here just a month ago, and was in the first phase of her probationary period. Yesterday, she had been told by her immediate boss, Ms. Fenton, that she would need to stay on late today for her first scheduled ‘performance review’, as the manager was so busy that a private meeting couldn’t be fitted in at any other time during the day.

Of course, Julie had agreed at once. She was eager as a bunny to please – this was a very good job opportunity with real prospects as a career, and in just the kind of company that she had always wanted to join: an environmentally-ethical cosmetics business which was up-market and had a well-known reputation, but still was a fairly small concern where everyone seemed to know each other, rather than being nameless cogs in some large corporate structure. Not surprisingly, given the nature of the products, the staff were all female, including the immaculately elegant and poised 42 year-old founder and owner of the company, Ms. Hartensen. However, Julie did not report directly to her: in between was her department head, Ms. Fenton, a smart stylish woman in her mid to late 30s, a whirlwind of energy and efficiency, who Julie found almost equally impressive and intimidating – but her new boss had treated her well so far, correcting any mistakes quickly and clearly, but in a pleasant and encouraging manner.

Like most of the women at this fashionable firm in the fashion trade, Ms. Fenton always looked perfectly turned-out. She had the slim figure and the height – she was around five feet ten inches in bare feet, and taller still in her high heels – to carry off the smartly-tailored outfits that she wore. They were chic combinations with a leaning to classical simplicity – plain blocks of colour in striking contrasts, cut in clean lines, but the quality of fabric and design were clearly expensive. All in all, Ms. Fenton was a class act, and one from whom Julie was picking up style tips every day.

Today was just such a case in point: her boss was wearing a bold red full-sleeve silk shirt, unbuttoned to make a V at the neck, where a simple silver hoop necklace set it off. Julie especially admired the woman’s skirt, and longed for one just like it (and longed for the salary that could afford one like it too!). It was a pencil skirt in rich shiny black leather which tapered to an inch or two above Ms. Fenton’s shapely knees – but its striking feature was that it was a button-through, that it was held closed by a line of contrasting round silver buttons at the front, down the centre of the skirt from waist to hem. The manager’s slender unblemished legs were sheathed in sheer black pantyhose, and on her feet … aaah! shoes to die for! They were perfect, just perfect for the outfit – and, knowing that everything must have been bought as separates, Julie was lost in wonder at the sense of style that had brought together the shirt, the skirt and … the shoes: an exquisite design, open-toed and stiletto-heeled, made in black leather that matched her skirt, yet with edging and laces in bright red which perfectly complimented Ms. Fenton’s top. The woman’s make-up was minimal – she had the classic fine bones and clear complexion not to need more than a touch, but her red lipstick was again the perfect shade, and a striking contrast to the mane of rich black hair that fell below her shoulders.

Julie sighed a little pensively: would she ever, ever, be that cool, that smart, so poised and yet also so hot? Well, if she held this job down, then – well, yes, then maybe, why not? But she needed to impress the boss, she needed to do well – for it had been made clear at her interview, politely but very firmly, that the company policy was that anyone hired was on a probationary and temporary-only contract for three months, and only if the management were fully satisfied would she be offered a permanent position after that. It had seemed only reasonable at the time, but now Julie was feeling not quite so sure … suppose she wasn’t getting enough done, or somehow wasn’t fitting in?

She sat and waited at her desk, having switched off her computer, too preoccupied to be able to answer any more emails in a coherent way. She was in sight of the door of Ms. Fenton’s office – she had been told earlier that her boss had some calls to finish, and then would see her after that. In fact, it was about fifteen long minutes after everyone else had left for their homes when the buzzer on her phone sounded, and Ms. Fenton told her to come in.

However, when Julie entered the private office, she saw that the manager was once again talking on the telephone. Ms. Fenton gave her a brisk nod and a little smile – from which Julie took some encouragement – and beckoned her inwards. The older woman gestured silently with her pen for Julie to sit in the chair which was placed opposite her desk, although it was set rather further back from it than was usual. As her boss continued chatting on her phone, Julie’s eyes roamed around the neat office, which was furnished in a sleek minimalist style – rather like Ms. Fenton herself, Julie suddenly realised.

There was no carpeting on the floor, which was made of sandalwood blocks in a Scandinavian style. The furniture was of light pine with simple white fronts on the drawers and filing cabinets, all clean lines and brightness. The most austere item of all was Ms. Fenton’s desk, which was more of a table in design – it was wide and long, with a thin flat top that was supported by two silvery steel legs at one end and a small set of drawers at the other – there was nothing else; it had no front or sides, and so it afforded an excellent unrestricted view of Ms. Fenton’s enviably long trim legs – and also, Julie noticed, quite a lot of her boss’s thighs, given the way that she had crossed her legs.

God, I’d like to be like her in ten, fifteen years time, thought Julie in admiration, and I’d like to have a job like hers too! Of course, Julie realised that she would have to dress in different colours and styles – she wasn’t a tall thin brunette, but a medium-height and quite curvy blonde. But even now, young and untutored as she was, and on a shoestring budget here in the big city, with most of her pay taken up by rent, food and the subway commute, still she knew that she looked good, that she chose her outfits well and turned herself out smartly. In fact, she was quite sure that this was what had made the clinching difference at the interview, that her slightly daring choice of a halterneck print dress of blues and yellows, with a white blazer jacket on top, which was not exactly conventional ‘office suit’ wear, had worked – partly because she had the figure to carry it off, especially her generous u-shaped 32E breasts, with her deep sun-tanned cleavage framed in the summery dress and then overlaid with the cool white of the classically-cut jacket. Yes, that had been a good choice … a little unconventional, maybe a little ‘arty’, but stylish in combination, especially when its casual look was contrasted against the simple and somewhat severe bowl-shaped cut of her straight collar-length natural blonde hair.

Lost for a moment in that happy memory, Julie realised that her boss was gazing at her quite intently and looking at her appraisingly from head to toe. Julie fretted in sudden apprehension, thinking ‘Surely I’m dressed OK? Oh, dear! I haven’t been dressing inappropriately, have I? The other women all dress real smart but I guess quite sexy too … I mean, like Ms. Fenton herself, she always looks real hot …’ and Julie suddenly blushed, confused to find herself thinking about her smart superior in such a way, as her thoughts skittered away from that image to a greater anxiety: ‘… oh, shit, I hope I’m doing OK, I really do want to stay on here … oh, surely I’ve been doing OK, haven’t I?’

As Julie came back to earth, she started to catch on to her boss’s conversation. It didn’t sound like a business call exactly, or at least not an external one.

‘Hmm, yes, I’ve got her in here now … yes, it’s fine, she looks good, really … yeah, cute, very nice …’

Ms. Fenton suddenly uncrossed her legs and leaned forwards, looking Julie in the eyes and pointing the pen in her right hand directly at the young probationer, transfixing the pretty blonde in her chair. The manager’s knees were pressed together but her feet in their expensive stiletto heels swung apart, her right toe tapping impatiently on the sandalwood floor. The woman continued:

‘… yes, oh yes, I think she could have quite a future here, with us …’

A tidal wave of relief washed through Julie, leaving her a little light-headed.

‘… once she knows how to perform, of course, when she’s learned our particular ways …’

Julie wondered what that might mean, but she realised that she had not been at the company long, only just over a month, and of course every line of business – and every company – had its own methods.