Page 108 of Rich and Bossy

“Why am I being sent home?” I plant my feet right where they are, ready to hear an explanation.

“This is not a discussion or a debate, Miss Strous. Security is currently clearing out your personal belongings and packaging them up for you, and they will escort you from the building to your vehicle once this conversation is over.”

I can barely hear a word he’s saying over the pounding in my head. Campbell and I went over this, it’s just so damn degrading. I’ve given this place five years of my life. My blood and sweat is in the concrete, and this smug jerk is just tossing that away. Is it even legal for him to do it like this? “What kind of a game are you playing here?” I shouldn’t snarl or bare my teeth, but it’s noteasy to be calm and rational when someone is firing you for no reason.

“It’s not a game. They’ll be here with your stuff shortly. And then you may go.” He looks around his office, shrugging.

“You can’t fire me because of the union stuff. I have a perfect record here. This is illegal. I hope you know that.” I need to shut my mouth. Campbell coached me to just shut up and accept this if it happens.

He winces a little when I mention the legality but maintains his composure. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time now to vilify me in your next interview. Plenty of material to work with.” He smirks right at me.

I knew it was about my interview. I just stand there, shaking my head, determined to maintain my composure as best as I can, before they perp march me past everyone downstairs.

He holds up a hand, and for the first time I see the strain etched between his eyebrows. “Whatever you choose to believe or disbelieve, this wasn’t my call. I’m just doing my job, as I’m told to do it.”

I rock back on my heels, and for a moment I’m too stunned to speak. He’s lying. Paxton said he wouldn’t let this happen. That it’d be fair. They have no reason to fire me. It has to be Paul acting independently, there’s no way it came from corporate.

He slides the folder across to me. “Here’s the paperwork. It walks you through all your options, for appealing, the infractions. But I’ve been told to have you escorted from the building by security. So, you are no longer my problem. You can take it up with the contacts on that paperwork. I actually am sad to see you go, because you are a hard worker. And I wish you the best.”

This is really happening. I’m being fired. From the first and only job I’ve ever had.

All these papers have been perfectly crafted by lawyers. It doesn’t look like run of the mill, simple termination papers. No, lawyers specifically put this together to my own circumstances.

I’m pretty sure everything listed on here is fabricated. It has performance quotas listed, clock-in times from years ago, every time I was ever one minute late, is listed. It makes a case that there were no specific cases, but when taken as a whole, I violated blah blah blah.

And Paxton’s the one behind it.

Did he think I wouldn’t find out? Some resistance he put up. It’s been like one week. He couldn’t stall getting me fired for one week?

Paul won’t look at me while he waits for security to come up. It almost feels like this is even worse than what I just went through. He’s never had a problem holding eye contact with me before.

There’s a light tap on the window to his office and a security guard steps in with a box of my stuff. I hear a commotion from another floor.

Paul turns back and shrugs. “Sorry. I really am.”

“What? You’re sorry?”

The security guard walks over and stares right at me. “Let’s go.”

I stand up and take my box from him then start walking toward the elevator. He follows close behind me, updating his position on his little walkie talkie like I’m a damn terrorist. Like he’s walking me through a prison.

Can’t believe Paxton is letting this happen. I know I said I trusted him, but holy crap. Seriously?

I’m numb, almost stumbling down the hall to the elevator doors, staring down at all my stuff in this box. Once the doors open on the bottom floor, there’s an even louder commotion taking place.

There are three more guards waiting for me. But I look around and there are uniformed security guards all over the place, and one of them is in the middle of leading Cheryl out of the building.

“Wait!” I run over before I can think, horrified at the sight of her carting all her stuff out in a box too. “What’s happening?”

“I’m out. They fired me.” Cheryl’s voice is grim, her jaw set in a tight line. It trembles just a little, giving away the emotion she’s trying so hard to hide.

“They fired you too?” Man, I knew this could all get real in a hurry. But this… It looks like some kind of mass cleansing. I glance around and they’re hauling out anyone who has been part of this union talk, anyone with personal stakes in the game. And they are hauling us all right out in front of everyone, as if to saythis is you next if you step out of line.

“It’s everyone.” Her jaw is clenched as a security guard starts to try to close off his space next to her, to keep her moving.

Sure enough, here comes Jim with his bandaged hand to protect the wound that’s still healing, and he’s hauling a box with it. Jim who might have permanent nerve damage thanks to that little accident that could’ve been prevented if he had been working in a safer environment. They’re even getting rid of him. In fact, there have to be twenty people being marched out.

When I walk by the breakroom, there’s anti-union flyers plastered all over the walls. It’s all so obvious, so heavy-handed. They couldn’t even bother to be nuanced about it.

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