professional vulnerability

merethe’s office — 09:58

merethe’s office is not technically an office. it’s the old supply annex that became hers through the same process by which she became hr — sustained presence and the absence of anyone saying no. she has decorated it. there is a poster of a sunrise over a lake with the word RESILIENCE in white serif. there is a jade plant that is thriving, which is the most unsettling thing about the room. nothing should thrive in here.

two chairs face each other at a distance merethe has calibrated. not across a desk — that would create a “power barrier.” the chairs are angled at roughly fifteen degrees, which merethe read creates “conversational openness without confrontational alignment.” she read this in a linkedin article by a man whose profile photo was taken in a car.

on her lap: the folder. LG — GROWTH JOURNEY. bubble letters. tabs. eleven pages that line has never seen and, if the universe is merciful, never will. merethe opens it to a page with a grid. across the top: COMPETENCY. CONFIDENCE. CONNECTION. COURAGE. down the side: dates, starting six months ago, each with a small notation in merethe’s handwriting. some have smiley faces. one has a frowning face with a question mark.

line knocks.

merethe: come in! it’s open. it’s always open. i don’t believe in closed doors. metaphorically or literally.

line enters. green scarf. notebook against her chest like a shield. she sits in the angled chair and puts the notebook on her knee. her posture says “i will survive this.”

merethe: line. welcome. how are you feeling?

line: fine.

merethe: fine is a word that often masks a richer emotional landscape. but we’ll get there. did you get my prep email?

line: yes.

merethe: wonderful. so you’ve identified an area of professional vulnerability?

line: i thought about it.

merethe: and?

line: i think my vulnerability is that i want to solve problems.

merethe writes something. her pen moves with the fluency of someone who has been writing about other people for a very long time.

merethe: say more about that.

line: the bureau processes complaints. it doesn’t resolve them. tobias explained the difference. i keep trying to resolve things and it creates — friction.

merethe: tobias told you this.

line: he was explaining procedure.

merethe: tobias is a brilliant man who has made a fortress out of procedure. i worry about him. i worry about his influence on newer team members.

line says nothing. her hand moves to the notebook.

merethe: that’s not a criticism. it’s an observation. i observe people, line. it’s what i do. some people find that uncomfortable, and i want you to know — that discomfort is valid.

line: i’m not uncomfortable.

merethe: good. that’s growth.

merethe flips a page in the folder. line catches a flash of a diagram with arrows and her own initials in a circle. she looks away quickly, the way you look away from a car accident.

merethe: i want to try something. i’m going to share a vulnerability of my own. to model the behaviour. is that okay?

line: sure.

merethe: when i was your age — roughly your age, i won’t be specific — i worked in a municipal office in herning. bigger than this. forty people. i was in communications. i was good at it. i could feel what people needed before they said it.

line: that sounds useful.

merethe: it was. until i felt what my manager needed, and what he needed was for me to stop being good at it.

pause.

line looks at merethe. merethe’s smile is still there, but for a moment it’s not structural. it’s memorial. the smile of someone standing in front of a building that isn’t there anymore.

merethe: he told me i was “too attuned.” that i made people nervous. that reading a room is a skill but reading people is a boundary violation. he said it in a performance review. he wrote it on a form.

line: that’s—

merethe: i left six months later. came here. gorm needed someone to run the office. i run the office. and i read people, because that’s what i do. and some of them find it uncomfortable. and the discomfort is valid. but i don’t stop.

the jade plant sits in its pot, indifferent and alive.

line: merethe, that’s — i didn’t know that.

merethe: nobody does. that’s the vulnerability. now you have one of mine and i have one of yours and we’re even. that’s how this works.

she writes something else. flips the page back. the smile reassembles itself, plank by plank.

merethe: now. let’s talk about your integration. how are you finding the team dynamic? any interpersonal friction? anything unspoken that you think should be spoken?

line: everyone’s been welcoming.

merethe: line.

line: what?

merethe: i can tell when someone is being polite and when someone is being honest. those are different muscles. you’re using the polite one. try the other one.

line shifts in the chair. the notebook slips slightly on her knee. she catches it.

line: the building smells.

merethe: the optician.

line: nobody’s doing anything about it. the letter came back. there’s no reachable owner. the municipal assessment is weeks away. and every morning it’s worse and everyone just — walks past it.

merethe: that’s not interpersonal friction. that’s a facilities concern.

line: it’s a twenty-metre walk from the front door to a building that smells like something died and nobody in a building full of people whose job is citizen concerns seems concerned.

merethe: that’s very well put. i’m writing that down.

line: please don’t.

merethe: it’s for context. your frustration is legitimate. what i’m hearing is that you feel the bureau’s response capacity doesn’t match your expectations. that’s a gap. gaps are where growth lives.

line: gaps are where smells live, merethe.

merethe looks up from the folder. line is looking directly at her. it’s the first time in the conversation line has stopped performing compliance. her eyes are clear and slightly hard, the way lake water looks right before it freezes.

merethe holds the look for two seconds. then writes something.

merethe: i’m marking this as a breakthrough.

line: it’s not a breakthrough. it’s a complaint.

merethe: most breakthroughs are.

silence. the poster about RESILIENCE watches from the wall. the jade plant continues its improbable success.

merethe: one more thing. the pulse check — did you fill it out?

line: i clicked fine.

merethe: everyone clicked fine. i’m going to add a second option next month. anders says a second radio button is “architecturally significant” but i think he’s stalling.

line: he is stalling.

merethe: i know. i just needed someone else to say it.

line almost smiles. it arrives, briefly, like a bird landing on a wire and immediately leaving.

merethe: same time next tuesday?

line: do i have a choice?

merethe: you always have a choice. i just already blocked your calendar.

line stands. picks up the notebook. at the door she stops.

line: merethe.

merethe: yes?

line: the man in herning. what happened to him?

merethe: he got promoted. then he got promoted again. then his wife left him and he moved to a smaller office in ikast and the last i heard he was running a team of four people who all described him as “fine.”

line: fine.

merethe: fine.

line leaves. her footsteps are quiet in the hallway — not silent like natasja’s, but careful, the footsteps of someone carrying something she didn’t have when she walked in.

merethe sits in the angled chair. closes the folder. opens it again. looks at the grid. under today’s date, in the COURAGE column, she draws a small circle. fills it in. solid.

she looks at the jade plant.

merethe: you don’t count.

the plant does not respond, which is the healthiest relationship in the room.