“I DIDN’T HIRE YOU TO GIVE YOUR OPINION!” — SECONDS LATER, THE LOBBY STOPPED…
He shouted as if the entire building belonged to him. He just didn’t notice who, a few steps away, was listening to every word.
In the lobby of a building in Campinas, Renato Valença pointed his finger at Lívia Duarte, the cleaning lady. Dark suit, commanding voice. She held the mop, simple uniform, and tried not to tremble.
The badges slowed their pace. An intern raised his cell phone, undecided. Lívia breathed and whispered: “Doctor, I was just finishing the strip.”
“Strip?” Renato laughed. “Look at me. You weren’t hired to think or to give your opinion. You were hired to clean.” He pushed the wet floor sign with his foot.
Her face burned. In her head, she thought about the rent and her father’s medicine. Even so, she tried again: “My supervisor asked me to wash now, so nobody slips.”
“Supervisor?” Renato raised his voice. “Call him here. Let’s see who gave you the nerve to boss around the lobby.” And he opened his arms wide. “Attention: now the cleaning staff is in charge!”
Nervous laughter erupted and died down. Embarrassment filled the room. Lívia gripped the mop handle and remained silent, because she didn’t have the luxury of arguing.
An analyst, Caio, stopped, ready to intervene. Renato cut him off without looking: “Don’t interfere. This isn’t your business.” Caio lowered his eyes and left. Everyone understood: that kind of power turned good people into statues.
Renato returned, low and venomous: “Do you understand places? Your place is in the storeroom. Get out of my sight.” She took a step back and, unintentionally, let slip: “No need.”
That was enough. Renato took half a step forward. “What? Are you talking back to me?” A heavy silence fell.
From the reception desk, a woman in a light blazer slowly closed a folder and walked towards them. She didn’t come with a fuss; she came calmly. Behind her, a gray-haired gentleman and a woman from HR approached.
Renato tried to maintain composure: “Who are you?”
“Helena Prado,” she said. “Integrity consulting firm, hired by the board to evaluate leadership.” The gentleman added: “Good morning, Renato. Álvaro Meireles, general manager.”
Renato’s watch seemed to weigh heavily. He forced a smile. “Dr. Álvaro, it was a misunderstanding. I was just giving guidance.”
“Guidance doesn’t humiliate,” Helena replied. “You ridiculed a colleague and threatened punishment.”
The HR woman, Sônia, raised her clipboard. “You signed an acknowledgment of the evaluation in a real-world setting.” Renato blinked, stunned.
Helena looked at Lívia sweetly. “No need to say anything. Today your dignity spoke for you.” Álvaro added: “Goals don’t buy character. Respect is the bare minimum.”
Renato looked around, searching for support. He only found averted glances. Sônia wrote something down and said, without pretense: “You are out of the promotion process and will be re-evaluated in your current role.” Renato tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Álvaro turned to Lívia: “I’m sorry. This doesn’t represent what the company claims to be.” She simply nodded, her eyes moist. Renato left with his briefcase pressed against his chest, getting smaller with each step. No one laughed now; the entire lobby breathed a sigh of relief.
Lívia carefully repositioned the sign and returned to work. Not out of submission, but out of courage: the greatest victory, sometimes, is not losing heart when they try to diminish you.
“If you believe that no pain is greater than God’s promise, comment: I BELIEVE! And also say: what city are you watching us from?”