The director was clearly furious. Emma understood this the moment she stepped into his office.
— You wanted to see me? — she asked with a hint of nervousness, sitting down on the chair by his desk.
— Yes! — the director said curtly, restraining himself from shouting. Then he grabbed a stack of photographs and tossed them in front of her. — Take a look, Emma Louise, at this disgrace I found online! You don’t happen to recognize the woman in these pictures, do you?
Emma, of course, immediately recognized her photos from twenty years ago, capturing her on a beach in a bikini.
— Yes, I recognize her… — she nodded, smiling sheepishly. — That’s me. But it was so long ago…
— Oh, so it’s you? — The director practically gritted his teeth. — You, the deputy general director of a strategic company, posing like that and posting your pictures online? You think that’s acceptable?
— I didn’t post them, — Emma said meekly. — My daughter did. And like I said, those photos were taken almost twenty years ago. Young people love taking pictures like that.
— What does it matter when they were taken?! — The director fixed his deputy with a heavy stare. — Do you realize what people upstairs will think when they find out my deputy is involved in such nonsense?
— But I didn’t post them, my daughter did! — Emma tried to defend herself again.
— Whose daughter?
— Mine.
— Exactly. Your daughter, not mine. People will say that instead of doing your job, you’re indulging in narcissism! I read online—female narcissism, by the way, is a personality disorder where women can’t adequately assess themselves, showing excessive vanity, pride, and arrogance. And you’re my deputy! Can you imagine the mess we’re in? You’re admiring your body, and I’m supposedly encouraging it, or maybe even secretly admiring you too? This is a scandal! This is…
— I had no idea you’d dig so deep… — Emma said, flustered. — My daughter just posted those photos on her social media page for people to compare our figures.
— Compare whose figures? — the director asked.
— Mine and my daughter’s. Look, here she is in this photo. — Emma pointed at one of the pictures.
— That’s your daughter? — the director said, surprised. — Strange…
— What’s strange?
— I thought that was you too…
— No, that’s my daughter.
— Are you really that alike?
— Very, — Emma said proudly. — Whose photos did you like better, mine or my daughter’s?
— Yours… Wait! — The director caught himself. — Stop confusing me! What do you mean, whose photos do I like? My deputy has no right to flaunt her body all over the place!
— So you didn’t like them…
— Stop talking nonsense.
— Your wife liked them. She put a like on those photos. But then, she’s got a great figure herself. And so do you, by the way.
— What? — The director stared at Emma, not grasping what she meant.
— I’m saying I liked your shirtless photo too.
— Silence!!! — Emma thought the director might explode with rage. — Emma Louise! What are you saying?! How dare you?! What are you talking about?!
— Your photo, where you’re young, in those tight swim trunks. — I liked it too.
— Liked it where? When did you like it?
— A while ago. Don’t worry so much. I’ll show you. Don’t you ever check your daughter’s social media?
— What daughter now?
— Yours, of course. You know our daughters follow each other. They’re showing off their parents’ old photos. It’s their idea of fun. They mess around like that…
Emma pulled out her phone, and within a minute, the director saw his own photo—young, tanned, in trendy tight swim trunks, standing with his wife on a beach.
— Who?! Who posted this online?! — the director finally bellowed.
— I told you, your daughter, — Emma shrugged. — When I saw your photo, I figured it was okay to show mine too. By the way, have you seen the photos of our minister?
— The minister? — the director tensed. — Which minister?
— Our minister, the one we report to. You can find all sorts of stuff online these days! Check out the minister’s daughter’s page, and you’ll stop being surprised. Want me to send you the link?
— Uh-huh… — the utterly bewildered director nodded. — I do…
Emma fiddled with her phone for a few seconds and said:
— There you go… It’s sent. Can I go?
— Go… Get back to work…
Emma calmly stood up and left the office.
The director, meanwhile, hurriedly grabbed his phone.
No comments