Dear Diary,
This evening I found my former boss serving as a waitress in the very restaurant where I was supposed to meet a potential new employer.
Emily called me on Saturday afternoon. Sarah, are you free Saturday night? she asked. I want to introduce you to someonejust a business dinner at a nice spot.
I adjusted my glasses and set aside the spreadsheets Id been poring over. Introduce? Emily, I told you Im not looking for anyone.
Its not a date, she laughed. Its a partner in business. Hes hunting for a sharp accountant for his new firm. The salary is decent, the conditions excellent. I thought of you straight away.
The offer sounded tempting, even though I was content in my current role. Which restaurant? I asked.
The Regent on Oxford Street. Have you heard of it?
The Regent is one of the most upmarket places in town, I replied, a hint of disbelief in my voice. The average check starts at about £70 per head.
Splendid, I said. Ill be there. What time?
Seven oclock. Dress smartly; the crowd is rather fashionable.
After hanging up, I stood before the mirror. The reflection showed a 52yearold woman with silvertinged hair, fine lines around the eyes, and a weary expressionthats what thirty years in accounting does to you.
Saturday night turned into a prolonged search for the right outfit. I settled on a dark navy dress Id bought for my firms anniversary, added a modest touch of makeup and simple jewellery, then hailed a black cab to the restaurant.
The Regent greeted me with the soft glow of crystal chandeliers and low, muted music. At the entrance, a man in a crisp tuxedo opened the doors with a courteous bow. Welcome, he said.
Inside, marble columns, velvet armchairs and gilded frames adorned the walls. It felt far removed from my world, and a slight awkwardness crept over me.
Do you have a reservation? asked a sternlooking hostess in a tailored suit.
Yes, under Parker, I replied.
She checked the list and led me to table seven by the window.
We passed through the dining room, and I caught sight of other patronswellgroomed, smartly dressed, exuding confidence. Emily was already seated with a middleaged gentleman.
Sarah! Emily sprang up. Finally! Meet Victor Graham, the businessman I mentioned. Victor, this is Sarah Parker, the accountant I told you about.
Victor was affable, chatting about his ventures and asking about my experience. The conversation flowed, and I could already picture myself in a new role.
Lets order first, then continue, Victor suggested, raising his hand for a waiter.
A woman in a black waitresss uniform approached the table. Instinctively I glanced at the menu, but my eyes froze.
It was Irene Whitby, my former manager.
The very woman who, seven years ago, turned my work life into a nightmarewho berated me in front of colleagues, nitpicked every detail, forced me to redo reports countless times, and drove me to a nervous breakdown that forced my resignation and months of recovery.
Irenes face paled, her hands trembled as she clutched the order pad.
Good evening, she managed, her voice barely steady. What would you like?
Emily and Victor, engrossed in the menu, didnt notice. I stared at my former tormentor, unable to believe my eyes.
She looked older than she always hadher once imposing presence now reduced to a tired, haggard woman in a modest uniform. The confidence that bordered on arrogance had vanished.
Victor asked, Have you decided, Sarah?
Ayes, of course, I recovered. Ill have the Caesar salad and grilled salmon.
Irenes hand shook so much the letters blurred on the paper. She struggled to keep a professional demeanor.
Anything else? she asked quietly.
Thatll be all for now, Victor replied. Could we start with some water and wine? Here, he pointed to the wine list.
Irene nodded and hurried away. A wave of mixed emotions surged through meschadenfreude? Pity? A strange sense of satisfaction?
Emily noticed my pallor. Are you alright? she asked.
Just a bit tired, I forced a smile. Nothing to worry about.
The conversation continued, but I heard only a distant murmur. My mind drifted back to my first day under Irenes rule.
She had greeted me coldly, scanning me from head to toe. Listen, newcomer, she had said, theres no room for slackers here. Youll work hard, and I wont tolerate mistakes. Understood?
I had nodded, assuming she was merely strict. It soon became clear she was a tyrant. A fiveminute delay in a report earned me a reprimand; a misplaced comma meant rewriting the whole document. One time I was ten minutes late because of traffic, and she publicly berated me in front of the whole department.
The traffic excuse is unacceptable! she shouted. Irresponsibility! If this continues, youll find yourself without a job!
Everyone kept their heads down; no one dared challenge her.
The worst part was how she humiliated me for no reason, simply to assert her dominance. She would tell clients, Half my team are idiots. Everyone knew who she meant.
I endured because I needed the paycheck. But my health deterioratedinsomnia, headaches, spikes in blood pressure.
Then came the day she blew up over a fivepound discrepancy in an otherwise flawless quarterly report. What is this?! she screamed, slamming the folder onto the desk. Do you even know what youre doing? Your mistake is costing the firm money! Fix it now!
Something snapped inside me. I rose, looked her straight in the eye, and said quietly, Im resigning. Effective immediately. Write me a termination letter; Im leaving today.
She was stunned. You cant
I am leaving, I repeated, firmer. You never said a kind word in all these years. Only insults and humiliation. I will not put up with it any longer.
I packed my things and walked out. That very day I suffered a hypertensive crisis and was rushed to the hospital, diagnosed with severe stressinduced exhaustion. I was off work for six months, recuperating, learning to find joy again. When I returned, I secured a position at a small, friendly firm where the boss genuinely valued his staff.
Years passed. I eventually forgave Irenenot for her sake, but for my own, so I wouldnt carry the burden of resentment. Yet the memory lingered.
Tonight, destiny brought us together again, but the tables had turned.
When the wine was poured, Victor asked, Everything alright?
Irene whispered, Sorry, Ill get it right. She fumbled with the corkscrew, her hands still shaking.
Victor, unaware of the tension, moved on to discuss the details of the job. The salary was indeed attractiveconsiderably higher than my current earnings, with a solid benefits package.
Will you consider it, Sarah? Victor asked after dessert.
I need some time to think, I replied. Its a serious decision.
Take a week. Heres my card; call when youre ready, he said, handing me his business card.
Emily smiled, confident that I would accept.
When the bill arrived, I caught a glimpse of the totalabout £120. Victor settled it, and we said our goodbyes. Emily left in a cab; Victor headed to his car. I lingered, citing a desire for a short walk.
I stepped outside, wandered a bit, then reentered through a side door Id noticed earlier. A security guard eyed me.
Forgot my scarf in the cloakroom, I told him. May I pass?
He waved me away with a curt, Ask the receptionist. But I was already inside, making my way down a hallway to a door marked Staff Only. I pushed it open and found the staff break room.
There, in a corner, sat Irene, clutching a handkerchief, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Irene? I called softly.
She looked up, startled, wiping her face quickly. Sarah I Im sorry
Sit down, I said, closing the door behind me. No need to stand.
She sank back into the chair, her eyes red, shoulders hunched.
I didnt want you to see me like this, she whispered. Its humiliating.
What happened? How did you end up here? I asked, pulling up a chair beside her.
She hesitated, then spoke quietly. After you left, I kept working. Then a major audit uncovered that the companys director had been falsifying documents, using my signature and stamps. I was too busy bullying my team to notice. The police opened a case; the director fled abroad, and I was named an accomplice. I got a conditional sentence and a ban on managerial positions.
Did you know? I asked.
I swear I didnt, she said, finally meeting my gaze. Everyone assumed I was part of the scheme. My husband left, taking the house and car. I was left with nothing.
A part of me felt a grim satisfactionkarma had indeed caught up with her. Yet another part, deeper and softer, felt genuine pity.
Ive been looking for work, she admitted, voice trembling. But with a criminal record, even a conditional one, no one hires me. I cant take senior roles; Im overqualified for junior jobs. I spent six months couchsurfing at a friends place before this waitressing job.
I listened, my earlier bitterness giving way to empathy. Im offering you a chance, I said. Victor is hiring a chief accountant. I can recommend you for a junior accounting position. If you take it, Ill stay on as your mentor.
Her eyes widened. Youd do that? After everything I did to you?
Yes, I replied simply. Im not a vindictive person. I want people to change for the better, and youve already started that change.
She reached for my hand, shaking. I dont deserve your kindness.
Everyone who repents deserves a second chance, I said, releasing her hand. But if you revert to the old ways, Ill make sure youre dismissed.
Well make a deal, she agreed, relief flooding her face. I promise Ill never be that person again.
I left the break room feeling oddly light. The nights events had come full circlefrom being the oppressed to extending a hand to the former oppressor.
The next morning I called Victor. Im ready to accept the role, but I have a condition, I told him.
What is it? he asked.
I need a reliable assistanta competent accountant whos currently in a difficult situation. If you hire her, Ill start next week, I said.
He paused. Youll be responsible for her?
Yes, I replied firmly.
Deal, he said. Shell start with us.
I then called the restaurant. Please arrange for Irene to collect her documents on Monday. Shell be joining us, I instructed.
A sobbing voice answered, Thank you. I wont let you down.
On Monday, Irene arrived with me. Victor greeted us warmly, showed us our desks, and explained the workflow. Irene worked quietly, eyes fixed on the spreadsheets, never looking up to challenge anything.
During lunch at a nearby café, she asked, May I ask why you did this for me?
I sipped my tea, thinking. I held onto my anger for years. It was eating me alive. When I finally let it go, I realized that helping you would bring me peace, not vengeance. Seeing you here, humbled, made me understand that the universe had already punished you enough. I didnt want to be the one to finish what fate started.
She nodded, tears welling again, this time of gratitude. Youre a good person, Sarah. I was a terrible one. I promise to change.
I believe you, I said, smiling.
Weeks passed. Irene proved diligentarriving early, staying late, never complaining. She helped a new junior colleague, guiding her patiently through tasks without ever raising her voice.
One afternoon I said, You handled todays audit request beautifully.
She blushed. I remembered how you once came to me. Im trying to be the opposite of what I once was.
Keep it up, I encouraged, patting her shoulder.
Our professional relationship evolved into a genuine friendship. Wed chat about the weather, share weekend plans, and occasionally reminisce about the past.
Later, Irene confessed, Im grateful for losing everything. It forced me to value people and be kinder. I used to be dreadful, but now I hope Im better.
You are, I affirmed. And Im glad I could help.
Months later, a tax inspector visited our officesharptongued and looking for any slip. Irenes composure was remarkable; she answered every question politely, offered documents promptly, and, when the inspector accused us of negligence, replied calmly, Excuse me, but we operate fully within the law. If youve found an error, please point it out, and well correct it.
The inspection ended without any penalties. Irene exhaled, looking at me with relief. Did I pass?
You aced it, I laughed. Im proud of you.
She admitted, Before I would have snapped, shouted back, caused a scene. Now I see that harshness breeds more harshness, while patience disarms even the toughest people.
I nodded, satisfied that my experiment had succeeded. Forgiveness had indeed turned into something constructive.
Walking home that night, I reflected on how oddly life rearranges itself. Seven years ago I was the victim of a merciless manager, yearning for revenge. Now that same woman is almost a colleague, almost a friend. I chose forgiveness over retaliation, and it brought me far more peace than any vengeance could have.
I still recall Irenes tearstreaked face in The Regent that nightfull of despair. Today her face is calm, grateful, and hopeful. I know I made the right choice, and I have no regrets.
