Mr. Ananda had a junior-level cubicle, even though he’d taken the head of finance role since Mr. Sekar, who’d held the position since before I was born, retired. I asked my father once why Mr. Ananda was kept in his tiny cubicle, when Mr. Sekar’s corner office with a view that rivaled my dad’s was still empty, but he had just gestured dismissively and said Mr. Ananda was not ready. And looking at last month’s financials, maybe he was right.

I’d barely spoken to Mr. Ananda in the two months since he had been promoted (and perhaps never before that either), so he looked quite surprised when I rapped on the glass.

“Hi, Mr. Ananda, are you busy?” He hadn’t responded to my text this morning, so I thought I’d drop by anyway. He was from my father’s generation, the one where mobile phones were an annoying puzzle to solve rather than an aide that made your life easier. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t even seen it.

“Well, yes,” he said simply, his eyebrows furrowing beneath his bald head. No Good morning. No Nice to see you, boss.

“I texted you, but you never replied, so I thought I’d drop in.” I made sure the smile never left my face and that I kept my voice steady. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Yes. I didn’t reply because I wasn’t sure of my schedule. I have a report due to your father tomorrow. Perhaps we could speak after that? I’ll try to slot you in for later in the week.”

Was this asshole seriously trying to blow me off?

“No, Mr. Ananda, let’s speak now. I need some information cleared up urgently.”

“I’m sorry, Kaavindi, it will have to wait.”

“Excuse me?” My voice rose just a fraction. Just enough for a few of the staff around his cubicle to take note.

Was he out of his mind? Everyone who worked at the Jewellers called me Miss Fonseka, even Mr. Sekar, who’d seen me in my school uniform when I was a child. Only the girls at Pink Sapphires got to call me Kaavi because of this whole team-building bullshit I was trying out. I knew Mr. Ananda was new, but he’s got some balls if he thinks he can treat me like this.

He just stared at me with an exasperated glare, his mustache twitching.

“I don’t care if you’re busy, Mr. Ananda. When you submit a report to me that’s full of mistakes, I expect you to stop what you are doing and pay attention. It’s not my fault if you’re not able to manage the pressures of this job.”

“What are you talking about?” I finally had this imbecile’s attention, though I didn’t care for his tone. I could tell that most of the staff had stopped what they were doing and were trying to be discreet about listening in on the commotion.

“Last month’s P&L, Mr. Ananda. It has your signature right here, see?” I spoke slowly now, patronizing him on purpose. That’ll show him to be rude to me in front of my employees. “You’ve made some significant mistakes in the calculations, which is what I’ve come here to talk to you about. But since you seem to want to avoid me, I can only assume that you are out of your depth here, and not competent enough to handle our financials the way Mr. Sekar did.”