Free No Way Back by Matthew Klein

super-hot women who
turn out to be religious kooks. It’s no coincidence, either. Being attractive tends to get you into trouble, and loose women always think Jesus can get them out. Who am I to say they’re
wrong?
    ‘All right,’ I say, nodding. ‘Rock on.’ I give a little fist pump to show I’m OK with Bible-reading at work. Better than porn, less good than the Employee Manual.
Somewhere in between.
    I continue past, but she calls, ‘Jim.’ She lowers her voice, glances to the back of the bullpen. Her eyes convey warning. ‘Dom Vanderbeek is here. He’s been waiting for
you.’
    Yesterday morning, I humiliated Dom Vanderbeek, our Vice President of Sales, by summoning him imperiously to the office at a moment’s notice. Once he arrived, I ignored
him for the rest of the day, letting him seethe and glare at me across the tops of the cubicles in the bullpen. When he seemed unable to bear it any longer, I had Amanda send him a terse email
inviting him to a ‘one-on-one’ meeting with me the following morning. It’s a little trick I’ve learned over the years: if you want to establish dominance in a corporate
hierarchy, you have to be brutal. There must never be doubt about who is in charge.
    Now our meeting has begun, and I’m sitting in the high-tech boardroom, listening to Dom Vanderbeek. Rather than acting like a beaten man, humbly begging my approval, Dom has spent the past
five minutes telling me why he’s the most important person in my world.
    These reasons include, in no particular order: Without Dom Vanderbeek, sales at Tao would plummet; Dom Vanderbeek’s mere presence boosts company morale; and Dom Vanderbeek can help me
– a novice CEO – navigate insoluble management problems.
    Dom Vanderbeek looks exactly the way I expected him to. He’s in his early forties, tall and trim, with the build of a tri-athlete. He has a handsome face; short dark hair cut in a Caesar,
greying at the temples; and a bright smile that is the result, I am sure, of expensive bleaching treatments. He wears a big masculine watch, which he makes a point of showing off by wearing his
sleeves rolled. A Rolex Submariner, I note. The watch of choice for Sales VPs.
    When Dom finishes telling me why he is important to me, I nod thoughtfully, sit back in my chair, and say, ‘I understand what you’re saying.’
    ‘Do you, Jim?’ He leans forward, drills me with his gaze. ‘Do you really? Because yesterday you treated me very shabbily. I felt very bad about it.’
    I’ve met Dom’s type before. In his effort to move up the corporate ranks, Dom has taken several weekend seminars where they teach you effective ‘interpersonal skills’.
Invariably these seminars advise you to confront co-workers, bosses, and subordinates openly and honestly, rather than stewing about perceived slights. In theory, it’s a good idea, but in
practice it has the opposite effect of what you’re trying to achieve. Rather than making you seem open and honest, your co-workers perceive you as abrasive and confrontational. After all,
you’re always telling them what’s bothering you.
    Dom says, ‘Do you know what I’m referring to, Jim?’
    I do. He’s referring to yesterday’s phone call where I put him on speakerphone and humiliated him in front of the rest of Tao’s employees. Actually, I do feel bad about that.
But it’s one of those things you need to do when you arrive at a company that’s going down the shitter. There is no time for social niceties. You need to establish your authority.
It’s immaterial who your target is. You need to pick
someone
. All that matters is that you let everyone at the company know that you are the alpha male, that you are in charge. In
that way, the executive suite isn’t much different from prison. In both places, the leader needs to pick a bitch. I guess that makes Dom my bitch.
    ‘Listen, Dom,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry I was rude to you yesterday. Really I am. The truth is, I need