I suddenly remembered the four neatly stacked rejection slips tucked in the bottom of my drawer—each one stamped with “insufficient capability,” each one written by Sean. For the first time, I found it all strangely funny.
Every time he coaxed me, saying he couldn’t make it look like favoritism, it was like forcing me to swallow something unbearably bitter, with no way to spit it out.
I’d closed six multimillion-dollar deals in seven years, ranked first in quarterly performance thirteen times, ended up in the hospital twice to fix the messes my colleagues left behind, and not a single client who worked with me ever doubted my ability.
In the past, I would’ve argued with Yvette, fought to prove I wasn’t incompetent. But now, I was tired.
Because every argument would just end with me standing in front of Sean, listening to him say something like: “Past achievements don’t matter. If your overall capability isn’t enough, accept it.”
And then, manipulated again, I’d throw myself back into work, trying to prove myself and helping him reach his “low-cost, high-return” goals.
But in the end, I finally realized the truth that the person who had never been treated fairly was me.