Stilettos

The cylinder canister rolled back and forth behind my driver’s seat. Traffic piled up ahead as I wedged the nose of my Hyundai into the exit lane. Waiting patiently for the black Toyota in my rearview to realize my blinker was not an oversight, I calculated the two hours I spent every morning while driving only forty miles.
It added up to be another full time job. Driving. I wasn’t getting paid for it either. No, not as a contracted employee. Not if I wanted to under-bid the two dozen other architects in the tricounties area.
Oh. The red Prius moved. Thank you, I mouthed and waved. Inches, she had given me, just enough to squeeze by the Toyota into the freeway off ramp.
That funny Apple notification sound came from my phone sitting in the passenger seat. I didn’t have to look. My model had shown up at the Worcestershire building. For the first time, in what seemed like years, my heart started racing. Brady and Veterghorn were no doubt, at this very moment, examining the model in it’s brilliantly completed state. That would hopefully be it. The built to scale model plant layout would prove that I knew exactly what I was doing. That I wasn’t some dumb bimbo in a mini skirt with a degree.
Everything about the bid had been a challenge, beginning with a struggle to get a call back on my first bid. I had to changed my approach, using just my initials instead of my name, the company called within seventy two hours. Then the awkward presentation, not one woman in the room, full of suited gentlemen, a third of the room half balding with a hint of foreign cigar. I walked confidently into the board meeting with a briefcase wearing a new dress suit and stilettos. Five minutes late.
They all stood, immediately. “Forgive Miss Klein, our prospect architect.” Daniels, the proprietor of the plant spoke up, a hint of southern diplomacy in his voice. “I’m sure she missed the exit sign.”
They laughed.
Traffic moved. I had forty minutes. Sighing a deep breath of relief, I merged into the fast lane and hit my gas pedal until I was tailgating a tan Hybrid.
It’s the Miss, I think, the title makes a woman look vulnerable. I was certain if a seasoned male architect had walked in fifteen minutes late they would have handed him a cigar. With or without a wedding ring.
Then, after the meeting, negotiations. Brady ‘nickel and dimed’ my bid down by ten thousand dollars. I should have walked out. But I didn’t. Daniels added his seal of approval and here I was.
I was headed into a meeting between Brady and the owner of the construction company scheduled to break ground in only three weeks. Three weeks gave us plenty of time to tweak the details and prioritize safety codes that I hadn’t already covered. But I had covered them. I covered everything. No doubt this meeting would be as difficult as the last. I was prepared, I made sure to put my big girl panties on this morning.
I rounded the main street corner and drove into the parking garage to walk briskly toward the towering wall of glass windows.  Climbing the three stories in the elevator, sweat gathered in my palms as I gripped my briefcase and cylinder.
I love stilettos. They don’t thump like regular heels. You know that click you hear on hard floors. Their delicate length and sturdy form makes a business woman feel in control.
Veterghorn was already in the office with Brady. My heart jumped, seeing the two bent over my model. I stopped to watch them point and nod then, when I was sure they were salivating with admiration, I knocked on the glass door before entering.
“This is Miss Klein.”
The hackles on my neck rose when hearing the status. I smiled as soon as Mr. Veterghorn made eye contact with me and shook his hand. Why is it men shake women’s hands so gently? “Nice to meet you, Mr. Veterghorn, I’ve heard good things about your performance.”
“Miss Klein. You’re brand new to the industry.”
I nodded but he didn’t leave me any time to respond.
Looking at my model, he said. “It looks like you’ve got a good idea of what you’re doing.”
Brady spoke up. “She was the lowest bidder.”
Oh, you jerk. I bit my tongue. Veterghorn wasn’t automatically privileged to that information.
“Well, you know what they say.” Veterghorn stopped and took a pen from his shirt pocket.
You get what you pay for. Thank you Brady, thank you for that. I smiled.
“There are a few changes Veterghorn would like to recommend due to coding and efficiency.” Brady took a seat behind his desk.
I sat my briefcase down gently on the carpeted floor and began pulling out my blueprints. Oh. After some silence I realized it was my turn to talk. “Do you have your recommendations in writing, Mr. Veterghorn?”
“No. I was looking at your model and It looks like the handicap access is located where a main line is laid. Now, we’re going to have to move it-”
No, that was incorrect. “If you would take a look at the blueprint layout.” I spread the prints across the table located on the left side of the office. “I believe the pipeline is well outside of that entrance.”
Veterghorn joined my side with his pen. “Well, Miss Klein. With all due respect,”
Here it came, the battle.
“Tanner Wilks, the lead architect in the area…”
Because I must be incompetent. He needed a second opinion. From the guy who should, in his opinion, have gotten the job.
“…had a second opinion of redistributing the lines to the North end of the property due to loading. I had him take a look when you sent me the email.”
He must think I’m a total idiot. I laughed gently and crossed my arms. “I don’t mean to question your associate but, if you follow these plans, the foundation distributes the load bearing with consideration to long term geographic adjustment as well.”
“I don’t want to put you on the defensive…”
I wasn’t being defensive, I wanted to be taken seriously.
“…It just seems to me that you may want to run these plans by someone with a little more experience.” Veterghorn said gently.
“He’s got a good point, Miss Klein.” Brady said from the desk.
Of course, sure, the spoiled chairman wants me to spend more time, unpaid, on the project other than an extra thirty hours.
“And, being that this is your first contract-”
“Fifth.”
“Just starting out.” Veterghorn corrected himself in the best way, I was positive, he knew how. “You’ll want to dress down when we meet on sight.”
Excuse me. “Dress down.”
“The mud and dirt might get a little messy.” The patronizing tone was palpable.
Oh, dirty stilettos would be a shame.  “Point well taken.” I adjusted my stance and unfolded my arms.
This was becoming a fine example for sexism in the workplace. What could I do?
If I make a big deal out of it and call it gender preference or sexism, legal will nip it in the bud and say I’m using the new mainstream political angle to get what I want. Then, declaring that I’m an opportunist and not a victim of sexism, they call me out on how strong women aren’t victims, and I’m just using the word for sympathy. Calling into play my education,experience and background, I would lose.
I had no other choice. I would have to kill them.
Turning from Veterghorn to the office door I bent over and removed my shoe. “Mr. Veterghorn.”
“Yes. Miss Klein.” He casually turned his gaze from the model onto me.
Removing the second shoe, having dropped three whole inches, gripping the stiletto firmly, I thrust the slender, sharp heel deep into Veterghorn’s artery. Blood began spilling down his neck, the contractors thick, blue, Dickey’s shirt soaked it up like a sponge.
Veterghorn fell to his knees choking and grasping the thin arch.
“What in the world!” Brady clung to his desk looking to the door. “Help!” He screamed feebly. 
“Listen, you piss-ant.” I marched to his desk, seething. “I’m not in the least bit impressed by your obvious struggle for control.” Planting my hands on his desk I continued. “Brought in as the lowest bidder, you convince Daniels to contract me only to belittle and degrade me so you can satisfy some egomaniac need to feel superior.”
Grabbing his quivering shirt-sleeves, I lifted him out of his chair.
“I’ve been with this company for less than a month and you’ve successfully squandered every spare ounce of patience I have. I’m done!”
I had turned his back to the wall sized window of his corner office. He didn’t fight, he didn’t defend himself. Brady could only gape at me with a slack jaw.
Then I pushed him through the glass.
Three stories down, he fell.
I love stilettos.
“Miss Klein.” Brady said as he reclined his chair.
Damn you. It was such a nice dream.
“Are we all finished here?”
Looking down at my blueprints and then up at Veterghorn, I smiled and said, “Yes, give me the number to your associate and we’ll reschedule for later this week.”
Just one battle. I said to myself. There’s still an entire war.