That's Just Alright
I’m sitting in the worn-out chair and I’m scared silly. They’re waiting outside the room; I can see the fuzzy outline of their bodies through the blurry, yellowed window. I’m tapping my foot on the carpet. It’s one of those old carpets with the nasty colors. The grotesque sight is greenish-brown and worn, so it’s pretty old-looking. I’m wearing this baby-blue buttoned-down shirt and a red tie. I don’t know why in the world I wore this tie. It just doesn’t match the rest of what I’m wearing. I’ve got navy blue pants on. Maybe a blue tie would’ve been better. Or maybe purple.
I snap back to reality. Why am I here? Why am I sitting on this chair? There’s sweat dripping down my neck as I adjust my tie. It’s practically choking me! My hair is in my face, so I just slip it back with my right hand. My leg is still going like a piston. I do that with my leg a lot, but I overdo it when I’m nervous.
My boss is out there. I see him moving his arms up and down. He seems upset, but don’t bosses always seem mad about something? Maybe his coffee was cold. I laugh to myself, then I cough and choke and make myself shut up. I’m sweating a ton now, and my back is practically soaked. I hope it’s not noticeable.
I’m a middle class guy. I work at this place, and this is my office. I’m just your run-of-the-mill guy. I got a wife, two kids, and a normal house on a normal street in a normal town. Nine to five, supper, and sleep. That’s my day, and I’m fine with it. Well, I’m not fine with it, but you know what I mean. I get my average income, feed my family, go on vacation, and just live. He’s going to take that away from me.
Yes, that’s why my boss is out there. I’ve seen it coming for the past month. He’s been giving me the hints every now and then.
“Oh, corporate’s on our ass. We’re cutting down the branch. Things are changing around here.”
Those are the lines, and they’re directed at me. Well, not physically or verbally, but I know they’re for me.
I already started to pack up my office. I got this huge bag on sale somewhere. I shoved all my folders and pens and crap in there. That’s probably all that’s in my office. Like I said, I’m a middle class guy with the run-of-the-mill job. I’m getting fired. I’ve already faced it. My God, what will I do? Life’s just not fair, now is it? I’m getting fired and that’s somehow just alright.
My boss suddenly turns. It’s time. I get an idea. I’ll beg the guy. I’ll get on my knees and beg him until he gives in. I’ll say how much this job means to me, how long and how hard I’ve worked, and what I plan to do to improve this company. That always works. I’ll crawl to his legs and cry my little heart out on his top-notch pants. I’ll dribble my tears on his shiny shoes until he just gives me my job back to spare them. I’ll beg and plead and bleed; then he’ll spare me. Yes I know it! I’m tapping my pen and it’s getting louder.
The handle turns. It’s old and it clicks and it kills me. I start scratching my ear. It’s so hot in here! Okay, begging won’t work. I’ll make him feel guilty! Yes! I’ll have no income. My kids will starve with only scraps to nibble on. I’ll have to sell my home; move into a nice cozy box somewhere. And where will that box be located? Right on my boss’ street, just so that he can see it as he drives to work every day. He won’t want to suffer through that guilt. No man is inhumane enough to take responsibility for people’s suffering. And yes, my confident will also be tarnished. By firing me he is calling me a horrible employee. Everyone knows that people don’t fire good employees. They keep they because they know that it’s best for the company. The plant suddenly falls off my desk, as if collapsing in desperation due to my foolishness.
He’s in the office now. My boss is in the door of the office! New plan: I’m going to yell, telling him how bad he is. Yeah, showing some power will make hi consider keeping me. Being the dominant male will make him realize firing me would be a disaster. Firing me would be…
“James, I’m leaving the company,” he says in a stern but not exactly depressed manner.
My jaw is open.
“Remember how I said that corporate is cutting people. Well that person is me. My salary is too high and my responsibilities are too unimportant to them.”
“Not to be rude, sir, but why are you telling me?”
“Well, James, I wanted to know if you could help me out for a while. Everyone I owned was property of the company. The house, the car, and practically my food.”
He laughed. I didn’t.
“I have two kids in college, James. And my wife doesn’t even work. Would you mind letting us stay at your house for a while until we can find a new home and I can find a new job?”
I gulped out a “Yes.”
“James, I knew I could count on you. Is it okay with you if we park ourselves there tonight?”
“Yeah. That’s just alright.”
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