The last fist bump

The escalator was broken. I walked up it anyways. I wanted it to work. I wanted to let the gliding mechanics of advanced capitalism deliver me from the subway station onto the street that way I could get to work a little more rested. Also I walked up the escalator because there was a homeless person taking a nap on the steps. I didn’t want to wake them. Who likes being roused from their morning siesta!?

Just sleep it all away

I came in today and there was no one here but the Graphic Designer. The CEO left me a few boxes to bring to the mail. I suppose I’m still good for a few things. I think he didn’t want to see me.

The one on one yesterday didn’t go well. The CEO and I sat down in the small conference room.

“So there’s not any real work for you. I think it best if we drop you down to hourly. There’s only a few hours of work in a week for you anyways.”

I let a small amount of drool drip out the corner of my mouth. Would the CEO demote and lay off someone who was having a stroke?

“I mean we love you here but there’s no work for you. If there is ever a position open here we’d much rather have you than some dumb blonde.”

The old office manager was blonde. I didn’t think she was dumb. I sort of liked her. If she still worked at the office I would have let her borrow my stapler.

You can borrow my stapler if you want to

You can borrow my stapler if you want to

“So I think your last day will be next week. We’ll have you do some moving stuff….”

My spittle fell onto the office table.

I zoned out. He was laying me off. He would lay me off even if I was having a stroke. He didn’t care if I was a blonde or not. If I was dumb or smart. What mattered was an economic imperative. I let my eyes glaze over and thought of the happy times I’d had at the office.

At some point the meeting ended. He didn’t give me a fist bump.

or nah!?

I came to and walked upstairs. I told people that I was going to be let go.

I left work early.

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