They Undercut Me, So I Watched Their Empire Crash

The moment he learned that the three-thousand-a-day models couldn't be taken out for dinner and drinks, the boss's whole face changed.

"Three grand a day and they won't even sit through a meal after the show? Your quote's way overpriced."

I was about to explain that these were legitimate auto show models, but Max Finch, a male coworker, let out a scornful little laugh. "You women just don't have the connections."

"I know a guy. The models he's got only run sixty for a whole day."

He left the sentence hanging and shot the boss a loaded look. "And he doesn't care how we use them. Dinner, staying the night, none of it's a problem."

My stomach turned. I opened my mouth to point out how wrong this was.

But the boss cut me off with a sidelong glance. "If you can't get the model prices down, I'll have to think again about who's the right fit for that supervisor spot."

Later, Max sent over a set of photos, curvy models shot from behind, and several of the male managers replied with drooling, leering emojis.

I zoomed in on each image one by one, then handed in my resignation and walked.

——

After Max named his price, the boss didn't make the call on the spot.

Instead, he sent Max back to his desk and kept me behind.

He was still swiping through those comp cards on his phone, those poised, ethereal beauties, and the greasy leer in his eyes had almost taken on physical weight.

"Ramona Finch, have your friend give us a real, sincere price!"

I was completely lost. "Mr. Nash, that price is just what professional auto show models normally cost."

Bruno Nash said nothing, only sat there studying me.

I sighed and gave ground. "But if we go with amateurs or small-time influencers, I can push it down to somewhere around eight hundred to two thousand. That's rock bottom."

Bruno cradled his big belly in both hands and rocked back in his boss's chair. "I know. But you heard it just now. Max's side only wants sixty a day."

I shot back, sour, "Then just go with Max."

That stumped him, and his face soured on the spot. "Ramona, you need to think about the company when you do your job. The company gives you enough budget and resources, you go close the deal. Otherwise what's the company paying you for?"

His shamelessness almost made me laugh. "So what you're saying, Mr. Nash, is you want me to make something out of nothing?"

The fury in his eyes nearly took shape. He slammed the mouse down on the desk, and it made me jump. "Did I say I wasn't paying?"

"Three thousand a day is fine..."

I looked at him, startled, and waited quietly for the rest. Knowing how tight he was, I was sure he had more to say.

Sure enough, he went on, voice rising and falling. "But once the show's over, sitting through a meal and a few drinks with us managers, that's not too much to ask, is it?"

The knot in my chest pressed down until I could barely breathe. I ground the words out. "Sir, they're proper auto show models."

Contempt filled his small eyes. "Proper or not, it just comes down to the money not being right."

"Either way, this is the company's budget. Three thousand a day and they entertain us over food and drinks, or sixty a day standing the whole floor."

I gave a cold laugh and said flatly, "Can't be done."

I stood, slammed the door, and headed out. But Bruno chased after me.

He turned and bellowed at HR, "Hold off on this morning's appointment paperwork. I still need to think it over."

My back was to him, both fists clenched tight.

Three years I'd been at this company. Countless marketing campaigns I'd planned, staying up so late that my period didn't come for three months straight.

And now, just because I wouldn't pimp out models to suit him for this one auto show, the spot that should have been mine went up in smoke.

At the thought of it, my eyes went red in an instant.