Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2013
We sat outside the office and I knew this wasn't good and there was a solemn atmosphere around there,  all over, like everyone is looking at a dead woman walking but I'm only fired
and I know this is going to happen when his face appears, anxious, can't look at me but finally making eye contact with me, voluntarily, since the play.  The good play, and then the taking away from me of the whole job and now it's time to take it all away.
And the secretary is preparing a big notepad where she will pretend to write big notes but they mostly she is really there to absorb it all with those big eyes and then walk around the halls and tell everyone she knows because in the restaurant when we walked in, her assistant, yes she has one, gave me that look, of knowing, understanding pain and everyone knows now, and they were all quiet as we walked in, two live people and one dead one
and the only thing is I don't feel dead, actually more alive, but a little scared because it's not clear what comes next although I know what I want

and he glanced and told us to wait and closed the door and called my real boss, who actually knows me, like he wasn't sure if I'd actually showed up and I knew in that one look he gave that this was THE END
So then he went and opened the door and said we'd wait for my boss because it was time to chop off my head and say it's not a good fit and that is what is printed on every single piece of paper that goes out to people like me these days, people who are so disposable
and yet he says "not a good fit" like it really means something and is just the right words for he moment.  really.  '
then he tries to change the tone to one of being upbeat and telling me the wonders of resigning and how great it will make my life and I'm just sitting there thinking
this is the most ridiculous pretentious scene, and I look over at the secretary who is staring at me, looking for tears and drama so it will make a better story "and then she--and she--" and it was just like "oh my God I can't believe she  and he" but I just stare back at her and there are no tears.   And instinct tells me what this is about, although I don't know, but instinct tells me that I am a threat to she who took my job and it is just so much easier to send me on my way

and my boss who will do whatever his boss wants starts to tell me that I have a lot of good things about me and--
he is cut off by a glare from his boss
so he crosses his legs a little tighter and his arms tighter and shuts up

and I admit I think this is the right thing because I am miserable and this is not what you are supposed to say.  
but it is the truth
I am in a sick, unhappy situation and this is finally a way out
and the three men sitting around me look like they don't know what to say or do
and they are vaguely insulted
and there are many more like me but they don't get this option so freely so they
stay and spend hours a day commiserating
and I am free
at last
Zulu Samperfas
Written by
Zulu Samperfas
512
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems