is questioning your dedication to the job, Jenny. You’re a fantastic engineer. You know your stuff. That’s why I’m not worried about you. You’ll find another job right away.”
My chest feels really tight. It’s all finally sinking in. I’m being fired. Holy shit, I’m being fired! What am I going to do? How will I pay my bills?
“How could you possibly know I’ll find another job right away?” I ask, on the verge of hysteria. “The economy isn’t that great. And you know the startups aren’t paying shit right now.” Great. He made me swear.
“So? Don’t go for a startup. Why don’t you get a job with the power company or something?”
“Do you want me to jump into the Mississippi, Frank? Because you know that’s what I’d do if I had to go someplace like that every day. There could not be a more boring job on the entire planet.”
“Okay, then, do some freelance work. I know you’ve been wanting to try that. The severance will give you a couple months’ pay, so you can relax and give it a shot.”
I snort in disbelief. “Oh, that severance package had better be more than two months’ pay.” He can’t be serious. Two months? The last guy who got laid off got nine. Nine!
Frank sounds nervous. “Why do you say that?”
“Because. I’ll bet if I did a little analysis on the people who are staying and the people who are going, it’ll be the people with kids who are being let go. It’ll be the single parents and people over thirty first out the door. And don’t think I won’t cause a fuss about that either. This is unfair. This isn’t right. It’s illegal to fire people for having kids at home. You’re just using this as an excuse to get rid of us and hire young kids fresh out of school for half the pay.”
“Okay, Jenny, I can hear that you’re upset. And I completely understand, because you weren’t expecting this to happen today. I’m sorry to be blindsiding you with it, honestly, I am; but there’s nothing I can do. It’s out of my hands.”
“I’m not going to stand for this.” I sound like a big justice-seeker, but both Frank and I know better. I’m no Green Lantern. I have all these threats I’m ready to deliver with gusto, but I know I don’t have it in me to follow through. I’m so screwed right now. I’m going to have to sell the house. Where will we go? Where will we live? May’s townhouse is way too small for all of us, and I’d rather be homeless than move to my mother’s place. I can see her for the occasional holiday, but living together would never work. Being with her for too long reminds me of how she kept us in that house with our jerk of a father when a better parent would have left and spared us all a lot of pain. I’ll probably never forgive her for that, especially now that I have children of my own. At least I learned one lesson from her: never stay in a relationship that will turn your children into victims.
He sighs. “Well, you could take it up with the investors if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not?” I can already picture myself busting into a conference room where they’re no doubt plotting how to hire people and get them to work twenty-four-hour shifts for free. I actually have a cape on in this vision.
“Because. We live in a small world down here. You form a reputation for getting angry at your employers and demanding big severance packages, and word will get around. Nobody’s going to want to hire you.”
He’s trying to scare me into shutting up. I swear I can see my skin turning green, and my pajama pants are getting tighter by the second. “I’m going to hang up the phone now before I say something I’m going to regret.”
“Okay. I get it. No hard feelings, Jen. I wish you the best of luck. When do you think you can come in and get your things?”
I grind my teeth for a couple seconds before answering. “Just put my stuff in a box, and I’ll come pick it up when my son isn’t sick anymore.” I slam the phone down on the counter, grab the hair on the sides of my head, squeeze, and scream.
I hear shuffling feet, and then my son appears from around the corner. “Mommy?