“It’s mine. It’s my file with my notes in it.”
“It stays. Put it down. Don’t make this difficult.”
“Right. I’m making it difficult. My getting fired is making this difficult for you. Are you kidding me?”
“All right. That’s it. Let’s go.”
“Natasha. Remember? When I waved good morning to you every day for almost two years? My name is Natasha, Ron. They won’t fire you for being nice. Well, I don’t think they would.” I scratched my head but left the file in the box. It wasn’t that I really needed it. It was the principle of the matter.
Tossing my purse on top of it I saw Ron thought better than to grab that in an attempt to get what essentially was unreadable doodles. A few people were still in this area of the building as Ron escorted me to the elevator. I couldn’t blame them for rubber-necking. I had done it, too. What bothered me was that most of them didn’t know me and they weren’t going to know the truth. The rumor mill was going to crank out something outlandish and obscene and there would be no one here to defend me. No one would say no, Natasha Morgan did not cry when they escorted her out or no, Natasha was not fired for getting drunk at Leo’s birthday party and calling her boss a skank while trying to make out with Keith in accounts receivable and then Ben in accounts payable.
No. Those rumors and a dozen more just as bad if not worse were going to circulate all around until someone else did something so stupid I fell from the front pages. I give it about a week in this place.
It was sinking in now. Like that iceberg that just snuck up on the mighty Titanic. I was feeling the reality of my situation sink in and now what was I going to do. I had half a paycheck in my hand, about negative ten dollars in savings and one credit card for only $800 that was maxed out.
Couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut? What would have happened if I had called in sick today? Would they have fired me over the phone or would I have earned myself another week so they could fire me on a Friday again? How was I going to pay my rent next month? Where was the nearest unemployment office? Was it really the people in this place or was it me? No. It was them. It had to be because if it were me then that would mean I was doomed to get fired at every job from now until I was dead.
The elevator door slid open and I strolled in saying a quick prayer of thanks that no one else was in there. But as I turned around I was surprised to see O’Malley stepping onto the elevator, too. What do they think I am going to do, get off on another floor and proclaim squatters rights?
Delores Morris watched from the safety of the hallway past the lobby to make sure I didn’t run back to my desk screaming sanctuary. I gave her the finger to which she turned and walked away as the elevator doors slid shut.
Don O’Malley didn’t say a word to me.
When the doors finally slid open I stepped out of the elevator carrying my box of belongings and expected him to just press the twelfth button and go on back upstairs but he didn’t.
Instead, he walked behind me through the lobby and to the glass revolving door that lead out onto the busy city street.
Everyone was looking at me carrying my banker box with security behind me. I wanted to scream. I just wanted to scream that I didn’t deserve this. I wanted people to know I got canned because the people in my office didn’t like me. It wasn’t because I didn’t do my job. It was because they just didn’t like me.
I finally pushed my way around in the revolving door and felt the cool, fresh air on my skin. I would have stood there for just a second to get my nerves settled but O’Malley came out behind me, his arms still folded across his chest.
“Move along now.” He said, looking out at the bustling street acting like a real dick.
“Yeah, okay, tough guy.” I snapped and began my slow walk.
People were coming and going on their lunch break. Some of them looked at me with my box of trinkets and I could tell they knew what had just happened. Fired.
And as luck would have it as I walked toward the bus stop to catch the twenty-two bus back to my apartment I ran into the gals from the office. They all stopped for a second and looked at me. They all were there including Trudy who signed off on all paychecks.
“Natasha, what happened?” Tricia would ask.
“I can’t believe they’d let you go. You always did your work.” Amy would add.
“I know we hardly spoke but you were really nice.” Would be that weird Laura girl’s contribution.
“It’s just a sign of better things.” “You’re too good for that place.” And so on, and so on.
But that wasn’t what happened. They looked at me and I looked at them and they quickly hurried past me without saying a word. Not a single word.
Now, I know this might sound crazy but at that moment, when those half a dozen women just walked past me like they didn’t know me, that was when I couldn’t keep the tears back.
I swear the entire city held its breath. Birds didn’t sing, cars didn’t honk their horns, trains didn’t rumble on the tracks, people stopped talking and all I could hear was my own heart beat as everything silently passed by me.
Telling myself over and over again what a good employee I really was made my head ache. As sound slowly started to creep into my ears again and drown out my own heartbeat I relived the whole ugly incident in my head. I had a college education and solid work experience and great references from great friends who posed as employers more than once for me. I’d never trust a boss, no matter how good you were at your job, to ever give you a fair reference.
And because my awesome friends would do this for me that meant I’d have to tell them that I got fired…again.
Not wanting to walk down the street blubbering into my banker box I saw a neon sign and made a bee-line for it. And it was a good thing I had done that because overhead some dark clouds had just rolled in to match my mood. A storm was coming. Pathetic fallacy. Perfect. I may just have to wait it out getting lit in Liona’s tavern.