The Animal Within

Marcus felt like a zombie most Monday mornings, but today was different. Today was the day he'd finally confront Richard about the promotion that had been promised—then revoked—three months ago.

He found Richard on the company padel court, smashing balls against the glass wall with rhythmic violence. The new CEO's pet project, of course. Padel. Because tennis wasn't exclusive enough.

"Richard," Marcus called out. "We need to talk."

Richard didn't stop playing. "Not now, Marcus. Can't you see I'm in the zone?"

"You're avoiding me."

Richard sighed dramatically and finally lowered his racket. "You know, you remind me of my son. Always playing the victim. It's unbecoming."

"Unbecoming?" Marcus laughed bitterly. "Like that baseball bat you keep in your office? The one you polish whenever you need to intimidate someone?"

"It's a signed Babe Ruth," Richard said defensively. "Worth more than your annual salary."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is? Because from where I'm standing, you're just another employee who couldn't cut it. Couldn't bear the pressure."

Marcus felt something snap. Maybe it was three years of swallowed insults. Maybe it was watching less qualified colleagues get promoted while he stagnated. Maybe it was simply that he'd stopped caring about consequences.

"I'm not the one who's scared, Richard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. That's why you built this court. Why you surround yourself with toys. Why you bullshit your way through every meeting. You're terrified someone will figure out you don't know what you're doing."

Richard's face turned crimson. "You think you're so smart? You think you can just—"

"I quit," Marcus said. "And Richard? That bat? It's not Babe Ruth's signature. I checked. It's a reproduction. Worth about eighty bucks."

He walked away, leaving Richard staring at his padel racket, suddenly looking very small. For the first time in years, Marcus didn't feel like a zombie at all.