“Sweetie, send me your supplier's contact info.”
The message popped up out of nowhere.
Worried I wouldn't answer, she actually stood up and stared straight at my desk.
“Don't have time. If you're good enough to take the orders, make them yourself. You can't afford my supplier.”
The second I hit send, she shot a glance at her screen.
Her fist clenched, and I could tell she wanted to curse me out.
But for the sake of her image, she swallowed it.
Still, from the shape of her lips, I read it loud and clear.
She was telling me to just wait.
Fine. Then I'd wait.
Let's see what kind of diet meal she could whip up for $8.80.
“Fay, sweetie, you saw it for yourself. The crowd's eyes don't lie.”
“But we're coworkers, after all, so I thought of a way to look out for you.”
“Here's the deal: I'll charge everyone $8.80 a meal, pay you $3.80, and you keep delivering to them like before.”
When I read that, I was floored.
“The junk you'd use can't even add up to $3.80. If you think that's too little, fine, I'll give you four bucks.”
Reading those lines, I could picture the scheming spread all over that doughy, carb-puffed face of hers.
“No thanks. Not interested.”
The second I turned her down, Quinn panicked.
“Fay, how can you be like this? We're all coworkers. I'm doing this so everyone can eat the healthiest, tastiest diet meals at the lowest cost.”
“You made plenty off everyone these past few months. Would it kill you to earn a little less?”
“Can't you survive without scamming everybody?”
The more she typed, the more her true colors came pouring out.
When I didn't answer, she quickly recalled that last line.
“Sweetie, how about this. I'll give you five bucks, and you keep delivering the meals like before.”
Her endless nagging messages were starting to wear on me.
With someone like her, the moment I blocked her, she'd just plant herself next to me and run her mouth nonstop.
“No thanks. Not interested.”
“My cost per meal is at least $50. So I take five bucks from you and keep delivering? Do I look insane to you?”
Maybe she was stunned by what the meals actually cost.
She went quiet for a long while.
“If it really comes to that, go scrounge some rotten veggie scraps from the market, and just buy the meat straight from the slaughterhouse.”
She offered up her advice, thinking herself clever.
“Quinn, you're the one who said you could bring everyone meals for $8.80. That's got nothing to do with me, so don't try to drag me into it.”
“And if you keep making a scene, I'll post these chat logs in the group.”
In an instant, Quinn went dead silent.
She started frantically recalling her messages.
She lived for appearances, loved building up her image in front of coworkers.
But I'd been ready all along.
From the very first message she sent me, I'd been screen-recording.
I couldn't be sure, with a sleazy little schemer like her.
Whether she'd come back to cause me trouble later.
I wasn't afraid to make an enemy of her, but I had to protect myself.
She stood, shoved her chair back, and stormed off to the break room to make a few calls.
She came charging back out, her face dark with fury.
“Sweetie, send me your supplier's contact info.”
The message popped up out of nowhere.
Worried I wouldn't answer, she actually stood up and stared straight at my desk.
“Don't have time. If you're good enough to take the orders, make them yourself. You can't afford my supplier.”
The second I hit send, she shot a glance at her screen.
Her fist clenched, and I could tell she wanted to curse me out.
But for the sake of her image, she swallowed it.
Still, from the shape of her lips, I read it loud and clear.
She was telling me to just wait.
Fine. Then I'd wait.
Let's see what kind of diet meal she could whip up for $8.80.
