She grins and leaves.

I turn on the computer and punch in the passcode written on a sticky note. It prompts me to create a new one, and I stare at Sebastian's closed door, thinking for a minute, then type in, KillHimWithKindness4Ever.

There. That will remind me to stay calm.

A message in the portal pops up.

Mr. Cartwright: I need the spreadsheet for Gulf Oil updated for the ten o'clock meeting.

Victoria: Georgia, it's in your pile. Can you focus on that first?

Me: Absolutely.

I pull the correct folder and study the notes on the spreadsheet. I find the corresponding file on the computer and update the formulas. When I finish, I email it to Victoria and Sebastian, then click on the message box.

Me: I finished the spreadsheet for Gulf Oil. Would you like paper copies?

Mr. Cartwright: Yes, that is how we do things around here.

My stomach clenches. I shake my head, press print, then type another message.

Me: How many copies would you like?

Mr. Cartwright: Victoria, please inform Georgia where she can find pertinent information.

Victoria: Will do.

I breathe through my anger, and my grammy's words fill my head. "No one is responsible for your feelings except you."

Hard to say when Mr. Grumpy Pants is your boss.

Her voice claims, "He can only affect you if you let him."

I shake it off as Victoria approaches my desk.

"Sorry," I quickly state.

"No worries. It won't take long before you know these things," she claims, then takes control of my mouse. She clicks a dropdown box on the schedule. "This is where you'll find Mr. Cartwright's upcoming appointment notes. If you select the description, it'll state who is attending the meeting. You'll always make copies for each person in attendance, plus two extras in case there are any surprises."

"Great. Thanks for showing me," I say.

"No problem. You'll need to add them to the presentation folders," she adds, then returns to her office.

The meeting with Gulf Oil has five people listed. I make eight to include Sebastian and the two extras. I take them off the printer, then knock on his door.

"Yeah?" he calls out.

I open the door and approach him at the desk. He doesn't look up, and I wonder if it's just to be a bigger jerk and add to his intimidation factor.

In a condescending tone, he finally states, "Is there something you need, Ms. Peach?"

I try to ignore his obvious jab at my name and reply, "I'm here to add the spreadsheets to the presentation folders."

"Do you want a reward for doing your job?" he questions.

I gape, then catch myself. "No, of course not."

"Then why are you bothering me with this?"

Unsure how to respond, I don't answer him.

He sits back in his chair and arches his eyebrows. "Well?"

"Don't you have the folders?" I quiz.