Photo credit: Silus via Foter.com / CC BY
This is the second part in a series, so if you have not done so already, you might want to read Part I before continuing.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Sorry, but the economy’s hitting everybody hard. Much as we’d like to, we simply can’t afford to keep everyone.”
“I have worked my ass off for this company for almost ten years and all you have to say to me is that you can’t afford to keep everyone?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“At least tell me Tommy’s getting canned, too.”
“Are you saying you actually want all your coworkers to get fired? That’s low, Miranda, even for you.”
“Tommy hasn’t worked here half as long as I have and the time he has been getting paid has consisted of sauntering in late half dressed every day and taking extended lunch breaks. He’s never anywhere to be found on Fridays, and is usually hung over on Mondays.”
“But his clients love him,” Sean said with a shrug, his palms facing up.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“He gets results.”
“You want to talk results? I have acquired more new business for this company than Tommy’s entire department.”
“But he’s got the bigger clients. You know this.”
“I know the biggest accounts I’ve worked my ass of to acquire have all been reassigned to slackers with penises.”
Sean closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Miranda, please don’t make this into a sexist thing because I really don’t have time for that right now.”
“Oh, I am not the one making this into a sexist thing.” Miranda paused, took a deep breath, and regarded her manager – former manager – as he looked back at her with weary eyes, clearly already checked out of this conversation. “You know what? You’re right. I don’t have time for this right now. I have to go find a job that appreciates hard work and talent.”
Miranda snatched her briefcase off the floor and stormed out of the room. She was vaguely aware of Sean calling her name, but she ignored him and kept on walking right past the rows of cubicles outside his office, out the door, and to an elevator where she slammed the down button until it finally submitted to her will and produced an elevator.
She spent the entire elevator ride fuming. Despite her tough talk, she knew how hard it would be for her to find another job, especially in a tanking economy. Dipshits like Tommy would probably get a raise for taking on extra work they’d never get around to doing while Miranda had to find a way to pay the mortgage on the house she had just bought and the fees for the private school her kids were enrolled in. She had some money saved up, but she didn’t know how long it would last. They’d have to cut back on expenses. Maybe cut back on Ivy’s hours for a few months until Miranda got another job.
By the time she reached the ground floor, Miranda had calmed down somewhat. Enough to call her driver (who’s hours she would also have to cut back) and have her bring the car around.
On her way to the car, she passed a young black man leaning against a wall just inside the alley. On any other day, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed him, but today she felt a fleeting sense of envy at the sight of him. He was young and healthy. He had his whole life ahead of him. He could just wait out this new recession and start making real money as soon as the economy picked up again. Whereas Miranda’s last days were behind her.
He was holding an empty coffee cup and, despite her previous resolve to be more careful with her money, she emptied the coins out of her wallet and threw them in the guy’s cup. She felt a little better about herself as she climbed into the waiting car. She thought of it as an investment in the young man’s future. Her way of paying it forward.
The end.
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