My First Boss

Twenty-three years ago, a striking woman entered the author's life. With her short, chestnut hair, round brown eyes, and a mouth often painted red, she commanded attention. It was the summer of 2003, and she strode through the Buenos Aires company hallway in high heels, her every move deliberate. As the owner's secretary, she managed everything from napkin suppliers to expense reports, her elegance and haughtiness defining her presence.

The author, then 19, was often addressed with a peculiar, almost distant tone by her 29-year-old boss. The boss insisted on formality, demanding employees knock before entering and only approach when authorized. She spoke multiple languages, often with a hint of disdain, believing that one's attire reflected their ambition. She moved with intention, using her body and projecting an image of sophistication and self-importance.

Despite her outward confidence, the boss clung fiercely to her perceived authority. She shared personal aspects of her life with the author, discussing films, music, and books, and recounting solo travels. She encouraged the author to explore her own body and self-knowledge, a stark contrast to the author's own limited social experiences. The boss's personal life was tumultuous, marked by on-again, off-again relationships, yet she remained driven, unwilling to settle.

The boss's past remained largely unspoken, though she did share a story about a friend's death, prompting the author to contemplate mortality. Her personality was a constant flux of opinions, moods, and tastes, challenging the author's belief in the virtue of permanence. This complex figure, both pretentious and guarded, envious and cruel yet sagacious, left an indelible mark on the author's formative years.