Photo credit: Sky Noir via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND
“Are you kidding me?”
“Sorry, kid. The economy’s hitting everybody hard. We just can’t afford to keep everyone.”
Shawn looked down at his last paycheck, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to cover all his bills until he found another job. “What am I supposed to tell my mama?” He mumbled, mostly talking to himself, but his manager – former manager – heard him.
“Dunno, kid. Tell her it’s a tough world out there.”
Shawn was suddenly filled with anger. As if this white dude in his tie and shirtsleeves had any idea what his mama had been through in her lifetime. And if he called Shawn “kid” one more time…
Shawn took a breath and exhaled the anger out. It would only make things worse, and he knew he wasn’t really mad at the manager. He was mad at the situation – at the world. He was mad at himself for feeling so helpless.
Shawn managed to mumble a “thank you” before turning around and walking out the warehouse door for the last time.
He took his time walking home. He’d have to face his mama eventually, but he continued to delay the inevitable. At first he wandered around the warehouse district, half heartedly looking to see if anyone was hiring, but more often than not he saw men leaving looking as dejected and hopeless as he felt. He had heard about mass layoffs from friends and family members, but he had had his job for so long, and things had been going so well there, that he had almost dared to hope he might be safe.
Stupid. His kind was never safe. They were always the first to lose their jobs when the economy tanked. He should know that by now.
The warehouse district was only making him feel worse, so he kept walking. He stopped to buy a cup of coffee at a McDonald’s, more to keep himself warm than anything else, and then he walked some more.
Without paying attention to where he was going he found himself downtown, surrounded by skyscrapers filled with cubicles and well-groomed people in expensive-looking clothing zooming through revolving doors.
He grew tired and stopped just inside an alley and leaned against a wall to rest, taking a moment to watch how the other half ran about their lives as if everything they did was a matter of life and death.
Shawn felt envy and contempt in equal measure. Contempt because these people had no idea what a real job was. They grew fat sitting at their desks while guys like him packed and loaded and unloaded and unpacked the things these people were getting rich by buying and selling.
But he was jealous, too, though less willing to admit it. These people had never been in his position and never would be. They’d leave their fancy offices to go to their expensive homes out in the suburbs where they’d eat steak and drink wine.
Shawn watched as one woman with short, dark hair, two-inch-long painted nails, a silk dress, and power heels zipped by him. She dropped a few coins in his cup, splashing him with hot coffee, before climbing into the back of a black SUV that had just pulled up to the curb.
Shawn didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. Here was some woman, infinitely better off than he was, throwing coins in his coffee to – what? Make herself feel better? And what the hell was he supposed to do with a few wet coins?
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