The office had no windows. That was the first thing she noticed--instinctually looking for an escape route. Her eyes quickly scanned the room--grey low-pile carpet, l-shaped desk with a single framed picture on it, Windows desktop, metal filing cabinet that engulfed the back wall, drop ceiling, cold fluorescent lights. 

“6500 kelvin” she said, pointing up. 

“What’s that?” 

“The color temperature of the lights. I can always tell.” 

She looks up, eyes squinting from behind round glasses with clear acetate frames. “Put me in any room and I can tell you the color temperature of the lights. Give or take a couple thousand kelvins.” 

“That’s interesting.” 

“It’s standard in American office buildings. Mimics bright daylight. Tricks the mind.” She desperately wished she would stop talking about the lights. 

“I hadn’t thought about it.” 

“There was a study commissioned by Ford and the Harvard Business School in 1962 that compared workplace productivity at different light temperatures and cold, blue light won by a 24% margin.” 

“I’ll have to look that up.” 

“Please don’t.” She’d made up the stat. And the year. And possibly the institution. She wasn’t sure why. 

“Would you like to come in?” 

She was still standing awkwardly in the doorway, her legs crossed over each other like she was about to curtsey. She was so aware of her body at this moment--the sweat in her palms, the cotton of her shirt, the smell of Degree deodorant, the elastic of her underwear digging into her stomach. 

“Oh yes.” She took two steps into the room and waited there. 

“I meant you can sit.” She replied, motioning to the chair in front of her. 

“Thank you.” 

She sunk down into the cold metal chair. It was abnormally low. Her knees were high and she had to tilt her head up to make eye contact. Carol’s enormous ergonomic swivel chair looked like a throne from this angle. 

“Am I being fired?” she blurted out. 

“You’re not being fired.” 

“Because I have a $600 monthly student loan payment.” She immediately regretted saying this--something about this woman, this room made her dizzy. 

“Don’t worry, this is just a conversation.” 

“Okay.” 

“My name is Carol and I’m the Senior Manager of Employee Experience and Human Relations.” “I’m Lea, Junior Account Coordinator.” 

“I know. I asked you here. It’s my job to know everyone at this company.”

“And do you?” 

“Do I?” 

“Know everyone?” 

“Not personally but on paper, yes.” 

Lea smiled, nodding her head gently. Carol smiled back, her foundation creasing slightly around her eyes. They stayed like this, eyes locked. Lea crossed and uncrossed her legs. Finally, Carol broke the silence “How is your day going?” 

At 9:32 am, Lea had parked her black 2007 Toyota Camry in the parking garage across from the Stanley Supply Company office, a squat, boxy four story building with sage green stucco and tinted windows. It was the largest building in north Saint Lawrence, Iowa. She was late, which was a habit of hers. She scanned her keycard and took the elevator to the second floor where her cubicle sat, still undecorated after two years. Normally, she’d start her day by cold calling a rolodex of sales prospects using a script provided to her by management. I’m calling from the Stanley Supply Company, the largest wholesale distributor of bathroom supplies West of Chicago. Does your business require bulk shipments of toilet paper, soap dispensers, cleaning supplies or tampons? But today, she opened her inbox to an email instructing her to meet HR on the fourth floor at noon. Assuming she was being fired, Lea spent the next hour crying in the private mother’s bathroom. The mother’s bathroom was always out of toilet paper. 

“It’s great!” 

“That’s great to hear.” 

“Chasing sales ha ha,” Lea forced out. 

“Excellent!” Carol’s voice was wispy and upbeat, like a bird Lea thought. Carol’s blonde hair was grown out, exposing an inch of dull brown at her roots. Lea hated that she always noticed these things. 

“I wanted to meet with you to discuss your online activity,” Carol said abruptly, matter-of-factly, and the bird-like quality of her voice was gone. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s come to the company’s attention that your X account contains inappropriate and damaging content--damaging to the reputation of the Stanley Supply Company.” 

“Um.” It was all Lea could manage to say. 

“I’ve printed some of your Xs.” Carol opened the top drawer of her desk and removed a plain beige folder. 

“My Tweets.” 

“What?” 

“I still call it Twitter. For moral reasons.” 

“Okay.” 

Carol opens the folder and sighs. “On December 3rd, you tweeted If Trump visits Saint Lawrence, I’m finishing what that cross-eyed pussy in Butler started with a picture of Kris Jenner holding a pistol.” 

“I remember. That one did numbers.”

“It has 12 likes.” 

“Elon is suppressing anti-Trump speach on the the platform.” 

“This kind of thing can hurt our business. A lot of our buyers are supporters of the President.” “It’s my First amendment.” 

“Let me continue.” 

“And my second.” 

“As a representative of the Stanley Supply Company, you should avoid making jokes about political violence on a public platform.” 

“Noted.” 

Carol looks down at her papers again. “On January 6th you Tweeted let’s do a reverse January 6th who with me? Same issue. It’s our policy to be politically neutral.” 

“Didn’t our founder donate to the Trump campaign?” 

“That’s never been confirmed. Publicly.” 

“So I can’t--” 

“Let’s finish reading them before we discuss,” Carol interrupted. “At 1:42 PM on January 7th, during work hours I would add, you Tweeted one of my coworkers is so fine, I stg I’m wet. The next day you replied to the Tweet saying no fr I’d let him bend me over my desk rn if hr didn’t exist.” 

Carol paused, peering over the rim of her glasses before continuing. 

“On February 13th, oomfy said anal is superior ewww no. Assuming that refers to anal sex.” “Why would you assume that?” 

Carol didn’t answer, didn’t look up from the paper in her hands. 

“On February 27th, pussy put his ass to sleep now he calling me Niquil.” “That’s a song lyric.” 

“What song?” 

“Nicki Minaj. It was super popular.” 

“I’ve never heard it.” 

“Number one on Billboard. Nevermind.” 

“On March 2nd, how do I get really good at blowjobs asking for a friend (not). March 3rd, is my parents’ divorce the reason I’m such a slut?” Lea hadn’t had sex in 14 months. Carol continued down the list of tweets. 

“March 5th, just destroyed my toilet ibs got me good gals. On March 11th, sometimes I think my vagina is a portal to an alien world and one day some freaky ET is gonna climb out. Do you see the issue? I have 8 more pages and these are just from the past couple of months.” “I have this compulsion where I tweet every thought I have. It’s related to my ADHD.” “Is that an official diagnosis?” 

“Would it help if it was?” 

“No.” 

“Then no.” 

“On April 8th, just mixed Adderall, weed and Celexa pray for me.”

“Those are prescribed.” 

“For ADHD?” 

“Right. I mean no. For anxiety and depression.” 

“On April 14th, The only good thing about work is stealing jumbo sized toilet paper from the warehouse. I haven't bought any in two years. Is that true?” 

“No.” 

Carol puts down the paper. 

“Imagine saying these tweets to your boss, to a client.” 

“Do I have to?” 

“In a rhetorical sense. As an employee of this company, what you put on social media reflects on us.” 

“I don’t like telling people I work here. No one knows.” 

“Why not?” 

“We sell bathroom supplies.” 

“I get the sense you don’t take working at the Stanley Supply Company seriously.” Lea didn’t take working at the Stanley Supply Company seriously. Most days she barely worked. Some days she smoked a pre-roll by the dumpsters during her lunch break and spent the rest of the day in a weed-induced haze. She graduated with an English degree and dreamed of working in New York City publishing but after a stint of post-pandemic unemployment, slumming it in her dads basement, living off stimulus checks and savings, she took the first job that was offered. 

“I do,” Lea asserted over-eagerly. “I never imagined people from work would see these.” “We’re the largest wholesaler of bathroom supplies west of Chicago. We’re an important part of the community.” 

“And I value that but what I do outside of work is my business.” Lea was trying to channel her best employment lawyer but her voice shook when she spoke. 

“Listen, you and I, we’re friends,” Carol said. 

“What?” 

“Consider me a friend.” 

“But I just met you.” 

“Your friend in corporate HR.” 

“Okay.” 

“As a friend, I’m looking out for your best interest and if you don’t adhere--” “Sorry. Maybe don’t say that.” 

“Say what?” 

“That we’re friends” 

“I thought we’d moved on.” 

“I’m still there.” 

“You’re hung up on the wrong thing.” 

“You’re what? 35?” 

“32.”

“I’m 25.” 

“I know. I have your file.” 

“So where would we have met? How would we be friends?” 

“I don’t know.”  

“Because we couldn’t have been in school at the same time.” 

“Church?” 

“I’m agnostic.” 

“Let’s move on.” 

“I already have.” 

“As your friend, your online activity can impact your future--” 

“You said it again.” 

“Said what?” 

“As your friend.” 

“Can I be honest?” 

“I would hope so.” 

“It’s a corporate handbook thing.” 

“I’m not following.” 

“In disciplinary situations, it’s important to first establish a friendly connection with the employee. Ask about their hobbies, interests, and family. It builds trust and can dispel any contentious feelings towards you or the corporation.” 

“Did you quote that?” 

“Yes. I memorized the handbook.” 

“Should you be telling me this?” 

“I’m establishing trust.” 

“Okay.” 

“On your first day of work here, you signed an employee code of conduct.” “I did?” 

She pulls out another short stack of crisp white paper from the manilla folder. “Would you like to see?” 

“I trust you.” 

Carol smiles. Self-satisfied. 

“In it, you agreed to conduct yourself at work and outside of work in a way that reflects the values of the Stanley Supply Company.” 

“Does a company have values?” 

“We do. They’re outlined in the Stanley Supply Company Official Statement of Values and Principles.” 

She pulls out another stack of papers from the folder and slides them across the desk. “I guess I was asking in a philosophical sense.” 

“I never cared for philosophy.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Do you read much philosophy?” 

“No.” 

“It’s not one of your interests outside of work?” 

“Are you asking because of the handbook?” 

“Yes.” 

A long silence followed. Lea focused on the sound of the AC. 

Lea was the first to break, “I can’t lose this job.” 

“If you agree to delete your X and refrain from posting anything political or sexual, we can issue you a warning and mandatory corporate compliance training. Does that sound fair?” “Do I have a choice?” 

Carol didn’t say anything, just shook her head. Lea rose from the chair and confidently extended her hand “I agree!” she said. 

“This isn’t really a handshake type of situation. We’re not negotiating a business deal,” Carol said, glancing down at Lea’s clammy hand. 

“Right. Well goodbye then.” 

“Goodbye.” 

Lea decided to leave early. She walked straight from Carol’s office to the elevator and pressed “lobby”. As she drove away she opened Twitter and typed when some corporate blonde bitch with stanky pits wants to be friends get a life hoe.