Medusa wasn’t always a viper.

Medusa was approachable, likeable, and even flirtatious.

Everyone noticed her golden-brown locks when she walked to her cubicle.

Sauntering.

Swaying.

Doing her thing.

Her small back corner office was her place of determination, her stone colored fortress.

But it was just that — a back corner office!

Medusa was not always a viper. The real snakes were further up the corporate ladder.

Years into the profession her demeanor turned from lively to stone. 

Slithering.

Hissing.

She began to bite at those who looked at her funny.

Medusa was not always a viper.

In fact, she did not plan to be.

It was only when her superiors ignored the one who slithered into her message inbox.

Now she bit. Who did she bite? Another woman’s grown son.

No longer approachable, no longer fun.

Medusa is now a viper.

Leading with reproach, basking in the cubicle sun.