Kristina believed she could determine a person’s worth at first glance. I didn’t try to prove her wrong at the family dinner table. The following day, she was due to attend an interview at a clinic, with no idea who would actually make the final decision.
“You really are a country bumpkin, Marina,” Kristina said with a grimace, pushing the salad bowl away as though my background had somehow ruined her appetite. “You’ve lived in the city for eight years, yet you still talk as if you’re choosing boots at a small-town market: ‘As long as they’re good, why pay more?’ People don’t pay only for quality anymore. They pay for status, social circles, and the impression they make. Although I suppose that’s difficult to explain to you.”
I was pouring tea after Sunday lunch at my mother-in-law’s house. I placed a cup in front of Kristina, glanced at the new coat she had already mentioned three times in the past forty minutes, and smiled.
“Then you got an especially good deal. You bought a coat, status, and a topic of conversation for the entire evening. Not every item of clothing is so versatile.”
Ilya lowered his head to hide a smile. Kristina noticed and immediately stiffened.
“You see, Mom?” she said, turning to Tatyana Pavlovna. “I try to speak to her normally, without being nasty, but Marina always responds with that provincial sarcasm of hers. I’m not insulting you, Marina. I’m explaining obvious things. You can live in a nice neighborhood, visit respectable places, and work somewhere in cosmetology, but people can still tell what kind of environment you came from.”
“Somewhere in cosmetology” was her favorite phrase.
I had graduated from medical school, completed my residency and specialized training, accumulated years of practical experience, and established my own aesthetic medicine center, which had grown from a small department into a large clinic in four years. But Kristina had never once properly asked where I had studied, what exactly I did, or why my husband sometimes didn’t see me until nine in the evening.
She had invented a convenient version of my life and felt perfectly comfortable believing it.
“Kristina, can you stop even at the family dinner table?” Ilya put down his fork and looked at his sister without smiling. “You have no idea what qualifications Marina has or what she does. Yet for some reason, you tell her where she belongs every time you see her.”
Kristina sighed theatrically.
“Ilyusha, don’t turn an ordinary conversation into a tragedy. If your wife is so sensitive that she considers every remark an attack, that isn’t my problem.”
“And if someone regularly tells you that you’re not intelligent enough, not urban enough, and not sophisticated enough, is that also just a remark?” Ilya asked.
My mother-in-law intervened immediately, before the conversation turned into a full-blown argument.
“Children, why are you starting this again? Kristina is simply straightforward. She’s never known how to sugarcoat her words. Marina, you’re a grown woman. You don’t need to seize upon every little phrase. Besides, Kristina deals with many people and genuinely understands the impression someone makes.”
I took a sip of tea.
“She understands the impression she makes particularly well. There’s no point arguing about that.”
Kristina smirked and adjusted her bracelet.
“You shouldn’t be so sarcastic. As a matter of fact, I’m about to move to an entirely different level. Tomorrow, I have the final interview at a very prestigious aesthetic medicine clinic. Not a tiny practice with two treatment tables and a receptionist who answers the phone while running around fetching shoe covers. A real medical center. Wealthy clients, expensive procedures, and a good salary. They need someone who understands premium service.”
I placed the teapot on its stand.
“What’s the clinic called?”
Kristina named my center.
Ilya turned toward me so sharply that I immediately understood he was about to reveal everything. Beneath the table, I gently touched his knee.
He looked at me, and I gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head.
Kristina, naturally, noticed the exchange.
“What is it?” she asked. “Have you heard of the place too?”
“We have,” I replied.
“Of course you have. The chief physician is Morozova. She’s very well known. I read a long interview with her, although it was old and didn’t include a proper photograph. They say she’s demanding, but her staff stay with her for years, so she must know how to manage people. If I get the job, I’ll finally stop working with people who think a good administrator should be their errand girl.”
“What exactly annoys you so much?” I asked. “If a visitor needs assistance, why can’t an administrator help?”
Kristina looked at me with patient superiority.
“This is exactly why you’ll never understand proper service, Marina. Helping someone and waiting on them hand and foot are two different things. If an employee constantly carries bags, runs for coffee, and smiles at every whim, no one takes them seriously. A manager must establish the hierarchy immediately.”
“You’re applying to be an administrator, not the head of the clinic,” Ilya reminded her.
His sister turned toward him.
“A sensible person always thinks several steps ahead. Today you’re an administrator, tomorrow a senior administrator, and after that the head of client services. Not everyone wants to sit in the same position for twenty years and rejoice because their salary was paid on time.”
She said the last sentence while looking at me.
Tatyana Pavlovna pretended not to have heard anything unusual.
“Kristinochka has always been ambitious,” she said proudly. “She just needs to enter the right environment. They’ll quickly see how capable she is. For some reason, she’s always criticized at home.”
“I think this clinic will assess her very carefully,” I said.
Kristina smiled.
“That’s what I think too. Don’t take this the wrong way, Marina, but I’ve noticed that it’s useful for people to understand their own limitations. Then they suffer less because of unattainable ambitions. Perhaps you don’t need anything more. You’re a simple person, and you’re more comfortable that way.”
Ilya put down his cutlery with a clatter.
“One more comment like that, and we’re leaving.”
“What did I say?” Kristina protested. “She grew up in a village. That’s a fact. Or do we have to rewrite her life story now so Marina doesn’t get upset?”
I looked directly at her.
“There’s no need to rewrite anyone’s life story. I’m perfectly happy with mine. But at your interview tomorrow, I advise you not to confuse a person’s background with their position or judge someone’s worth by their clothes. Sometimes that habit can cost much more than a bad coat.”
Kristina laughed.
“Don’t worry about me. I can read people instantly. My judgment has never failed me.”
“Then tomorrow should be a particularly interesting day,” I replied.
As soon as Ilya closed our front door behind us, he turned to me.
“Marina, explain why you stopped me. I was just about to tell her that the famous ‘Morozova’ she was raving about had been sitting across from her and pouring her tea for forty minutes.”
I took off my coat and carefully hung it on a hanger.
“Because I don’t want to prove to your sister that I deserve respect by showing her my diplomas, job title, and business registration documents.”
“But she’s been humiliating you for years. Do you realize that what happened today wasn’t just a thoughtless insult? She deliberately looked at you when she talked about people’s limitations.”
“Of course I realize that.”
“Then why do you continue tolerating it?”
I turned toward my husband.
“Because until today, it only concerned me. I didn’t like it, but it was my decision whether to respond. Tomorrow, however, she’s coming to my clinic. That’s a different matter.”
Ilya frowned.
“Are you really going to let her attend the interview?”
“Why not? She has a good résumé.”
“After everything she said to you?”
“If I remove her from consideration merely because she’s an unpleasant relative, how would that make me any better than her? She believes positions should be handed out according to personal preferences and status. I’m not going to run my business that way.”
Ilya followed me into the kitchen.
“What if she actually gets hired?”
“Then she’ll work there.”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely. If she’s professionally suitable and knows how to deal with people, family hostility shouldn’t deprive her of a job.”
Ilya stared at me for several seconds and then smirked.
“I know you. You’ve already decided something.”
“Yes. I’ve decided not to manipulate anything. She’ll go through the same selection process as everyone else. That will be fairer than any family confrontation.”
“What if she recognizes you there?”
“Then she recognizes me.”
“I can already imagine her face.”
“I’d rather imagine how she works. An administrator’s face is secondary.”
The following morning, I arrived at the center before eight. The reception desk on the first floor was already operating. Oksana was checking the day’s appointments, the nurses were preparing the treatment rooms, and Irina Sergeyevna stood by the terminal with a tablet.
When she saw me, she approached immediately.
“Marina Andreyevna, we have three candidates attending the final stage today. According to the résumés, Kristina Ilyinichna Belova is the strongest. She worked in client services at a private bank and has excellent references. I would consider her seriously.”
“She’s my husband’s sister,” I said.
Irina Sergeyevna froze for only a second.
“I see. In that case, I’ll ask you directly: do you want to remove her from consideration?”
“No. We’re not changing anything. I’m disclosing our relationship only for transparency. Assess her exactly as you would the other candidates.”
“No special treatment?”
“None. But don’t be stricter with her either. If she’s suitable, tell me she’s suitable. If she isn’t, I need professional reasons, not a family story.”
Irina Sergeyevna looked at me carefully.
“Very well. The final decision remains yours?”
“As usual.”
“Then we agree. Personal relationships will not affect the assessment.”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
At around eleven, I left my office after a meeting and saw Kristina near reception. She wore a gray suit, her hair was perfectly styled, and she carried a folder and an expensive handbag. She displayed the particular smile she reserved for people capable of influencing her life.
Oksana was explaining where she should wait for Irina Sergeyevna.
Kristina turned and noticed me.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Marina? This is unexpected. What are you doing here?”
“Working,” I replied.
She quickly examined my white coat. I had removed my badge before the meeting and was holding it with my phone.
“So that’s why you were being so mysterious yesterday. You could have simply told me you worked here. At least I could have asked you about the management in advance.”
“You asked whether I knew the clinic. I said I did. You didn’t ask anything else.”
Kristina stepped closer and lowered her voice.
“Let’s not involve family connections. I want to succeed on my own. Don’t tell anyone we’re related, especially those girls at reception. I don’t want people thinking I got the job through connections.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll succeed or fail on your own, without any help from me.”
“Good. And if you know anything about Morozova, tell me afterward. I read that she’s tough. I don’t want to be caught by some trick question.”
“If there’s anything to tell you, I certainly will.”
At that moment, Irina Sergeyevna approached us, and Kristina transformed in a fraction of a second.
Her back straightened, and her voice softened.
“Good afternoon, Irina Sergeyevna. Thank you for making time for me. I researched your clinic before the first stage, and I must admit that I was especially eager to work here. Your approach to client service closely aligns with mine.”
“That’s good, Kristina Ilyinichna,” the director replied. “We’ll begin with a practical scenario. We’ll assess not only your experience but also how you make decisions in contentious situations.”
“With pleasure. I’ve always believed that an impressive résumé means nothing if someone loses their composure during the first conflict.”
She glanced briefly at me, as though she wanted to demonstrate how confidently she behaved around a real executive, and then followed Irina Sergeyevna.
An hour later, I received a message.
“Strong professional performance. Advancing her to the final stage.”
I read it twice.
I didn’t want Kristina to fail merely because she was my sister-in-law. But I couldn’t yet bring myself to feel pleased about her success.
After that, an ordinary working day began: patients, documents, conversations with doctors, a supplier, and schedules. I didn’t think about Kristina again until after two, when I heard her voice near reception as I walked along the corridor.
“Miss, I’ve been waiting twenty minutes for the director. Are you planning to do something, or do you believe your responsibilities end after saying, ‘Please take a seat’?”
Oksana stood before her holding a tablet.
“Kristina Ilyinichna, I informed you that Irina Sergeyevna’s meeting is running late. As soon as her office becomes available, I’ll invite you inside. I also offered you water and a seat in the guest area.”
“I don’t need water. I need proper organization. If someone is invited at a particular time, somebody should be responsible for keeping to the schedule.”
“I’m responsible for patient appointments and the reception desk. I physically cannot change the director’s schedule.”
Kristina smirked.
“That’s a typical mistake among junior staff. Instead of solving the problem, you begin explaining why you can’t solve it. If I’m hired, the first thing I’ll have to do is break the administrators of that habit.”
Oksana looked up at her.
“You’re not the head of the administrators yet, Kristina Ilyinichna. Candidates are also expected to speak respectfully to employees here.”
“How interesting,” Kristina drawled. “Have you already decided that you can lecture me about manners?”
“I’ve decided only that raising your voice won’t make Irina Sergeyevna’s meeting end any sooner.”
A nurse approached the desk.
“Oksana, I’m sorry, but could you check whether Ms. Lebedeva’s appointment was moved to six or left at five thirty? The doctor’s schedule shows one time, but ours shows another.”
Kristina stepped aside irritably.
“Are you seriously going to discuss internal matters over the head of someone waiting for an interview? It feels as though no one here understands basic professional hierarchy.”
The nurse looked at Oksana in confusion.
Oksana’s answer was firmer this time.
“We’re discussing a patient’s appointment while at work. Your waiting does not mean the clinic has to stop operating.”
Kristina folded her arms.
“Listen, I spent five years working with clients who had more money in their bank accounts than many people earn in their entire lives. I don’t need anyone explaining service to me. If I become your manager, you’ll have to learn to understand more quickly who requires your attention and when.”
I stepped around the corner.
“Oksana, please come to my office in five minutes. We need to check Thursday’s changes.”
Kristina turned to me and gestured irritably toward the desk.
“Marina, perfect timing. Explain to your colleague that a candidate for a management position isn’t the same as someone who came to check the time of a procedure. She’s talking to me as though she’s doing me a favor.”
I looked at Oksana. She said nothing and merely pressed her lips together.
“Oksana knows her responsibilities perfectly well,” I replied. “And she’s performing them now.”
“I can see how you all stick together here. It’s sweet, of course, but in a serious organization, friendship at reception shouldn’t replace discipline.”
“Kristina, if you’ve been asked to wait, you’d be better off waiting. Irina Sergeyevna will call you herself when she’s available.”
She looked at me with irritation.
“Fine. I won’t argue. But if I’m hired, I hope they’ll give me the authority to put this reception desk in order. Otherwise, the beautiful interior means very little.”
“Wait until you’ve been offered the job,” I said. “It’s easier to begin reforms after you’ve actually received the position.”
Kristina snorted, but I left for my office before she could respond.
Oksana entered five minutes later.
She closed the door behind her and stopped beside my desk.
“Marina Andreyevna, I don’t know how closely you know that woman, so I want to say this immediately: if I overstepped anywhere, I’m prepared to explain myself. But I wouldn’t want to work under her.”
“Tell me what happened before I arrived. Just the facts, without personal judgments.”
Oksana nodded.
“First, she asked me to bring her coffee from our staff room. I offered her coffee from the visitors’ machine and explained that the staff kitchen wasn’t for guests. She replied that she had wanted to ‘test our customer focus.’ Then she handed me a folder and asked me to take it to Irina Sergeyevna, even though she was supposed to deliver the documents herself during the meeting. When I refused, she said an administrator should understand an instruction the first time.”
“Did she actually call it an instruction?”
“Almost. She said, ‘If I become your manager, requests like this will be carried out without discussion.’ Then she added that the staff here were far too relaxed.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“All right. Thank you for telling me.”
Oksana hesitated.
“It’s important to me that you don’t think I’m trying to get rid of a candidate merely because I dislike her. Professionally, she’s strong. I overheard part of her conversation with Irina Sergeyevna. She speaks confidently and understands how to handle difficult clients. But if someone hasn’t even been hired yet and already speaks to us in that tone, I can hardly imagine what she’d be like after a month.”
“That is precisely why you were right to tell me. The decision will not be based on personal feelings.”
Irina Sergeyevna arrived several minutes later.
She sat opposite me and placed her tablet on the desk.
“Oksana has already reported the incident. The nurse confirmed her account. We now have a peculiar picture: according to her résumé, the candidate really is the strongest. She completed the practical scenario brilliantly and behaves impeccably around management. But she changes instantly when dealing with people she considers beneath her.”
“Then the final conversation is particularly necessary.”
“Do you want to conduct it yourself?”
“Yes.”
Irina Sergeyevna studied me closely.
“Marina Andreyevna, I’m asking again only because she is your relative. Are you certain you can separate your family history from her behavior today?”
“That’s exactly why I want you to be present. If I start settling personal scores, stop me.”
The corner of Irina Sergeyevna’s mouth lifted in a faint smile.
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
At five o’clock, Kristina entered her office looking like someone who had only to discuss her salary and starting date.
I was in the adjoining room and could hear the conversation through the open door.
“Overall, my impression is extremely positive,” Kristina said confidently. “It’s a strong center with a good volume of patients and respectable clientele. There are several disciplinary issues at reception, but proper management can correct them.”
Irina Sergeyevna looked through her notes.
“You managed to assess the employees’ discipline during a single day of interviews?”
“Experience allows you to identify weaknesses quickly. For example, your Oksana is far too convinced that she can decide for herself which requests to fulfill and which to refuse.”
“What particular request did she refuse?”
“Nothing significant. I asked for coffee and asked her to deliver a folder. I merely wanted to see how she would react. An administrator should be flexible.”
“So it was your personal test of an employee?”
Kristina gave a small laugh.
“Don’t make it sound so serious. It was merely a little observation. If I’m going to lead the administrators, I need to understand who I’ll be working with.”
At that moment, I entered.
A plaque on the office door read: “Marina Andreyevna Morozova, Chief Physician.” An identical small plaque stood on the desk.
Kristina looked first at me and then at the name.
Her confident smile vanished.
“Marina? Why did you come in here?”
I calmly took the chair beside Irina Sergeyevna.
“For the final interview.”
Kristina frowned.
“I don’t understand. This is the chief physician’s office.”
“That’s correct,” Irina Sergeyevna said, setting down her pen. “Marina Andreyevna Morozova is the clinic’s chief physician and owner. She makes the final decision regarding the administrator position.”
Kristina turned her head toward me so slowly that she seemed to hope the explanation might change during those few seconds.
“Morozova… That’s you?”
“Morozova is my maiden name. I retained it professionally.”
“Wait. Are you saying that yesterday you sat across from me, listened to that entire conversation, and deliberately didn’t say this was your clinic?”
“Yesterday, we were sitting around your mother’s family dinner table. Today, you came to a workplace. I saw no need to mix the two situations.”
Kristina laughed nervously.
“What a convenient way of putting it. So you arranged a test for me? You decided to watch your stupid sister-in-law squirm while the great clinic owner observed from around the corner?”
“I didn’t arrange any test. You passed the preliminary stages before I even saw your name on the candidate list. This morning, I personally told Irina Sergeyevna that we were related and asked her not to treat it as either an advantage or a disadvantage.”
“That’s true, Kristina Ilyinichna,” Irina Sergeyevna confirmed. “Professionally, you reached the final stage because you performed well. No one artificially advanced you or sabotaged you.”
Kristina glanced quickly at the director.
“Then I don’t understand the purpose of this performance. If my résumé is the best and I handled the case successfully, what other questions could there be?”
I leaned forward slightly.
“Only one. Why do you speak differently to people as soon as you decide they’re beneath you?”
“Are we starting with family psychology again?”
“No. This is strictly about work. You were courteous with Irina Sergeyevna. This morning, you spoke condescendingly to me because you thought I was an ordinary doctor. You began ordering Oksana around before you had even received the job. The difference is far too obvious.”
Kristina leaned back irritably.
“My goodness, Marina, are you seriously making an issue out of a cup of coffee? I asked an administrator to bring me a drink. She refused, and I formed an opinion about the service. What’s the tragedy?”
“There is no tragedy. There is a professional conclusion.”
“What conclusion?”
“That you respect positions rather than people. For an administrator who would work with patients and supervise employees, that’s a problem.”
Kristina turned toward Irina Sergeyevna.
“Do you honestly think it’s appropriate to assess a candidate based on a conversation in a corridor? Then why bother with résumés, experience, and practical cases?”
“Because administrators don’t work only while they’re being interviewed,” the director replied evenly. “I need to know how someone behaves when they aren’t trying to impress management. Your résumé demonstrates your experience. Today’s incident demonstrates your management style.”
“My management style? I haven’t even started working here.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Yet you already promised Oksana that you would put things in order and teach her to follow instructions.”
Kristina narrowed her eyes.
“Did she complain about me?”
“She provided workplace feedback. The nurse separately confirmed the conversation.”
“Wonderful. So informing on people is encouraged here too.”
“No. Employees are encouraged to tell management what is happening in the workplace.”
Kristina looked at me.
“Let’s stop pretending, Marina. You were simply waiting for an opportunity to get even with me for yesterday. You enjoyed listening to me call you a country bumpkin because you knew you’d be able to throw me out of here in style today.”
“If I’d wanted revenge for yesterday, you wouldn’t have attended the interview at all. I could have removed you with a single decision this morning. Instead, I left the professional assessment to the director.”
“And now you’re rejecting me anyway.”
“Because today you gave me a legitimate reason.”
Kristina sat up sharply.
“I can apologize to your Oksana. That can be resolved in two minutes. I’ll say I was nervous and phrased my request badly. Adults know how to admit mistakes.”
“You can apologize,” I agreed. “But it won’t change the fact that you behaved respectfully only toward people you considered superior to you.”
“Don’t lecture me. You’re sitting in the owner’s chair right now and enjoying your power.”
“If I enjoyed power, Irina Sergeyevna wouldn’t be here, there would be no employee statements, and there would have been no complete selection process. I would simply have told you this morning to leave.”
Kristina fell silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but harder.
“So you’ve definitely decided not to hire me?”
“Yes. You have not been selected for the administrator position.”
“After all my experience?”
“I’m not denying your experience. But this position requires working with people every day. I’m not prepared to place a manager above my employees who begins respecting them only after learning their job titles.”
Kristina gave a bitter smirk.
“So your husband’s family means nothing to you?”
“My husband’s family is not a professional qualification.”
“Have you considered what Ilya will say?”
“By all means, call him. Just make sure you tell him the entire story. Begin with how you asked an administrator to bring you coffee because you wanted to test how obedient she was.”
Kristina pressed her lips together.
“Mom was right. You can earn as many degrees as you want and buy yourself a beautiful clinic, but you can never take the village out of a person.”
Irina Sergeyevna raised her head sharply.
I stopped her with a look.
“Thank you, Kristina,” I said. “You’ve just clearly demonstrated that the decision was correct. The interview is over.”
“Don’t speak to me in that managerial tone.”
“At the moment, I’m speaking to a candidate who has been rejected for a position. You can begin a family conversation later if you wish.”
Kristina stood and snatched up her handbag and folder.
“You’ll regret humiliating me like this.”
“I didn’t arrange anything. You spent the entire day making your own decisions. I merely assessed the result.”
She turned at the door.
“Tell your Oksana that informing on me worked.”
“If you want to say anything to Oksana personally, you’d be better off beginning with an apology. She’s already heard everything else.”
Kristina flung open the door and left.
The door closer shut it slowly, depriving her of a dramatic slam.
Irina Sergeyevna stared at the door for several seconds.
“Now I understand why you were so insistent this morning that we shouldn’t be stricter with her.”
“I didn’t want anyone to say someday that I rejected her because of a family argument.”
“There is certainly no basis for saying that now. I’ll record only professional reasons in the candidate file.”
“Please do exactly that.”
When I walked out to reception, Oksana looked up.
“Marina Andreyevna, is everything all right?”
“Kristina’s application was not approved. Irina Sergeyevna will discuss the workplace incident with you later. No further action is required from you.”
Oksana looked at me carefully.
“Thank you for listening.”
“That’s my job. If a manager stops listening to employees, they quickly discover that they’re running a very different clinic from the one they imagined.”
That was the end of it.
There was no applause. Nobody peered out of the treatment rooms. A minute later, the phone rang, a patient arrived, a courier delivered supplies, and a nurse brought in some documents.
The clinic continued operating.
That was exactly what I wanted.
Ilya was waiting for me at home. His phone lay on the table and lit up with another call every few minutes.
“They’ve been calling for about twenty minutes,” he said. “First Kristina, then Mom, then Kristina again. I didn’t answer without you.”
“You can answer. I have nothing to hide.”
Ilya put the call on speaker.
Tatyana Pavlovna began speaking immediately.
“Marina, I want to hear an explanation from you because Kristina is in such a state that you’d think she had deliberately been made a laughingstock. Is it true that you owned that clinic all along and refused to give her a job today?”
“Yes, I own the clinic. No, I didn’t reject her because we’re related. Kristina failed the final stage of the selection process.”
“Don’t play with words,” my mother-in-law interrupted irritably. “You could have hired her. You have your own clinic. Couldn’t you find a place for your husband’s sister?”
I smirked.
“That is precisely why I shouldn’t ‘find a place’ for her. It’s a medical center, not a family warehouse for spare jobs.”
We heard Kristina’s voice in the background.
“Mom, don’t listen to her. She arranged the entire thing. She spent the morning walking around pretending to be an ordinary employee, then gathered her people and put me on trial.”
“Kristina, I spent the morning doing my job. You were the one who decided that an ordinary employee should look a particular way.”
“You could have said you were the chief physician!”
“You could have asked what I did for a living.”
“What normal person sets riddles for relatives?”
“What normal person spends eight years lecturing a relative about her ‘limitations’ without ever asking what she actually does?”
Tatyana Pavlovna sighed heavily.
“Marina, let’s not recall every old remark now. Kristina may have lost her temper. She’s an emotional person. But depriving her of a good job because of some conversation with a receptionist is excessive.”
“Tatyana Pavlovna, her conversation with the administrator was part of her professional assessment. She intended to supervise those people.”
“What did I even do?” Kristina interrupted. “I asked for coffee and asked her to deliver a folder. They’re acting as though I’m a monster who insulted someone.”
“You told an employee she would have to follow your orders because you might become her manager. Then you promised to put the place in order before you had even been hired.”
“Because there really is no discipline there!”
“That’s exactly why we aren’t suited to each other. You need an organization where managers demonstrate their power to those beneath them. I need a clinic where people can speak to each other without checking bank balances, job titles, or the price of someone’s coat.”
Kristina scoffed.
“How eloquent. Yesterday, you were quiet little provincial Marina. Today, you’re a business owner giving speeches about corporate culture.”
Ilya pulled the phone closer.
“That’s enough, Kristina.”
“Are you going to defend her too?”
“I’m not defending Marina’s position. I’m defending my wife, whom you have humiliated for years, only to act surprised when you finally stopped getting away with it.”
“Ilya, stay out of this,” his mother said sternly. “The women can settle it themselves.”
“No, Mom. It’s precisely because I ‘stayed out of it’ for too long that you all decided this behavior was acceptable. Every time, I asked Kristina to stop and then asked Marina to ignore it. That was a very convenient arrangement: one person behaved rudely, while the other was expected to be wiser.”
The other end of the line fell silent.
Then Kristina said resentfully:
“So now everything is my fault? And Marina is a saint?”
“No one said that,” Ilya replied. “You were rejected for a particular job for particular reasons. Instead of asking yourself why you began ordering people around before you even received the position, you’ve spent three hours insisting that everyone else is the problem.”
Tatyana Pavlovna’s voice softened.
“All right. Let’s say Kristina was harsh. But you’re family. Couldn’t you give her a second chance? Marina, you could have said, ‘Kristina, apologize to the employees and start working.’ Then everything would have ended well.”
“For whom?” I asked. “For Kristina, who would have received a position after pressure from relatives? For the employees who would have had to work under her? Or for me, because Sunday lunches would become slightly quieter?”
“For the family,” my mother-in-law said firmly.
I looked at Ilya.
“That is precisely where we disagree. To me, family does not mean I must ignore someone’s actions merely because we share a table on Sundays.”
“So you don’t need us at all now?” Hurt crept into Tatyana Pavlovna’s voice.
“I didn’t say that. We can continue seeing each other. But from now on, there will be no more ‘country bumpkin,’ no more talk about my limitations, no more comparisons about who is worthy of whom, and no expectation that Ilya will persuade me to ignore it afterward.”
Kristina snorted irritably.
“Did you hear that, Mom? She’s setting conditions now.”
“Yes, Kristina,” I replied. “At work, I establish rules for employees. In my personal life, I establish boundaries for people who want to remain part of it. Today, you managed to encounter both.”
“You simply enjoyed feeling superior to me.”
“If I’d wanted to feel superior, I would have spent the past eight years telling everyone at every family dinner how many employees I had, how much revenue my clinic generated, and where I studied. Until today, I had no need to mention any of it.”
“But now you did?”
“No. Today, I only needed to make a decision about a candidate. You discovered everything else on your own.”
My mother-in-law sighed.
“Marina, you’ve developed a very high opinion of yourself.”
“No, Tatyana Pavlovna. I’ve simply stopped believing that I must earn basic respect.”
Ilya looked at me and then spoke into the phone again.
“Mom, we’re ending this conversation. We won’t be coming on Sunday. When we can meet without insults and arguments about whose status is higher, we’ll arrange another time.”
“Are you seriously canceling a family dinner because of your wife?”
Ilya smirked.
“No, Mom. I’m canceling a family dinner because it stopped being a family dinner years ago whenever Kristina decided to make herself feel important at Marina’s expense.”
He ended the call.
The phone began vibrating again almost immediately.
Ilya looked at the screen, opened the family chat, and quickly typed a message.
Then he turned the phone toward me.
“We won’t be coming on Sunday. When you’re ready to meet without insults or discussions about who is good enough for whom, we can arrange another time.”
“What do you think?” he asked. “I didn’t soften it, but I didn’t add anything unnecessary either.”
I read the message.
“Send it. For the first time in eight years, everything is written exactly as it should be.”
He pressed Send and placed the phone beside his keys.
The following Sunday, we didn’t go anywhere.
And for the first time, we didn’t have to explain that decision three times.
