The message pops up at 4:36pm. I’m about to close my laptop and sit on the balcony to enjoy the beautifully warm European spring. He’s asking the exact same question that I answered five lines above in the conversation. I blink at the message and see he’s still typing. He asks me to jump on a call.
If he were my submissive and not a contractor, I know exactly what I would type after declining the call. “It’s a wonder you became an engineer when you have the recall of a goldfish.” It would sting. I would sit in smug satisfaction for about an hour before being fired.
A sadist needs to learn excellent self control. Just because we take pleasure (sexual pleasure in my case) in the suffering of others, doesn’t mean I’m a cartoon villain.
I take a breath, put on a smile, and answer the call. He’s very apologetic, and it’s clear that he hadn’t really understood my response, not that he didn’t read it. I walk him through what I mean and make sure he’s on the right track before I end the call at 5:03pm.
Out on the balcony with my cats and a glass of lemonade, the memory of my initial flash of annoyance and imagined revenge makes me think about a boy I’m dating. It might not be appropriate to insult someone who is just trying to do their job, but this man would thank me for insulting him when he was just trying to clean my bathtub in a thong. I’m thinking of all the things I’m going to say to Manuel when I see him tomorrow. “What size pants do you wear?” I text him, wondering if the leather shorts in the drawer will fit him.
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