I was about to head to Alameda and buy me some supplies for my bead project, when I suddenly heard a knock on my office door. “Come in,” I said. And surprise, surprise, guess who it is? It was my boss, Miss Elle. I thought she wanted me do some last minute work, so I asked her “Yes, can I help you?” I realized her eyes were puffy and red, and looks like she just finished crying. “You don’t look too good, are you alright?” I said to her. And the moment I said that to her, she came up to me, hugged me, laid her head on my shoulder and cried a river. I was like, “What the hell is going on here?” But I didn’t want to be rude, so I let her cry it all out. She looks real upset and I didn’t want to interrupt her moment. And after a good five minutes, she calmed down, let go and wiped her face using my hankerchief. “I’m so sorry if I’ve bothered you. I’ll be going out now,” she said. “Hey wait, are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to talk or want some company?” I figured out that she might need someone to be with, at least for a couple hours. “I’m about to drive up to Alameda to get some stuff, but you’re more than welcome to join me if you’d like and I’ll drive you back here at work.” She smiled and said, “That would be nice, sure it’s okay?” I answered back, “Absolutely, it’s better that driving by myself in traffic. Besides, we can use the carpool lane, right?” We left the office shortly after that.
While heading for our destination, I realized Miss Elle wasn’t that bad of a person. She may act bossy and have this intimidating vibe around her, but she actually is human in every aspect. Maybe, I was quick to judge her. Not giving her any chance to prove herself that she can be friend and not that wicked superior who slave drive her people. Funny how I hated her all these time and then now, she’s suddenly on my good side. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not giving people a fair and square chance to see them in a different light.
Now, I feel bad for ever picturing Miss Elle as this boss from hell, the Cruella Deville of our office or better yet, the Witch on The 4th Floor. It wasn’t fair that I called her names and it wasn’t my right to judge her either. Regrets do come in the end, and I’m sorry for ever calling her a witch. But then again it’s never too late to make up for my misdeeds and start building a bridge to fill the gap between us. I do have a lot to learn in love and relationship, and part of it is to not be so quick to judge and react.