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There will be no more stories about Lunchbox Guy. In fact, I will probably never see Lunchbox Guy again. Why? Because last Friday, I was fired. So I won't be catching the bus to work with Lunchbox Guy anymore. A few weeks ago, I noticed that most of the people in the marketing department weren't talking to me. I felt invisible; anything I said seemed to evaporate into the air. I even went out to lunch with some of the girls from work one day, and I spent the whole time making jokes that people pretended not to hear. I thought that maybe these were teething pains, like trying to break into a group at a new high school. But now I know that these people probably already knew that I was going to get fired. Maybe dismissal is contagious, and they didn't want to come near me in case they, too, would end up home alone on a Monday afternoon. Last Friday, I was called into a meeting with my manager Daniella, and the HR lady, Maree. Maree said, "We just need to discuss your probation." Foolish me, I thought that they were going to say, "Congratulations, Carla! We decided to end your probation early. You are now a full-time employee. Welcome aboard!" But Maree had this sympathetic face on, and as she babbled on in her HR speak, I caught the word "unfortunately." Then she said that she thought it was time for me to go, and I started to cry. Daniella and Maree both looked devastated, and I was really glad that they felt bad. I hoped that they felt so bad that they wouldn't be able to sleep at night. My first thought was, "Now I can't marry Geoff." They said that the main reason they were "letting me go" ("firing" is the new F word) was because I lived too far away. They said that they couldn't rely on me to stay late, and that I wasn't committed enough. They said that they saw no improvement or progression in my work. They said that I was below average. "Does this sound fair to you, Carla? What do you think? Do you have anything to say?" Maree asked me. Daniella was feeling too guilty to speak. I sobbed, "Well, I am completely humiliated." They both looked offended, and Maree said, "It was never our intention to humilate you." I then told them that they had been so unfair, and that I had been poorly judged. I had only been there for six weeks. I told them that I thought travelling for 4 hours a day was enough; I told them that it wasn't my fault that I didn't have a car. Daniella said, "Well, it's also not MY fault that you don't have a car." Maree crumpled up her face in an attempt at sincerity and said, "Well, I don't agree with what you are saying, Carla, but you are welcome to your opinion." They had timed the meeting so that Daniella could go off to a meeting afterwards, and avoid seeing me blubbering all over the office. Maree followed me to the office as I cleaned up my desk. I had to keep going outside to compose myself. Once, I asked her, "Can I please do this on my own?" and she replied, "I really need to be here," as though she was comforting a friend through a divorce. I threw out all of this nice food I had in the fridge- apple mango juice, cheese, bread- because I didn't want anyone else to eat it. I threw out the little notepads I had made from scrap paper, and I threw away scribbled notes on Post-its. I didn't want there to be any remainder of me. People walked by and pretended not to see me cry. I didn't even get to say goodbye to the few friends that I had. I didn't want anyone to see me with red eyes and a snotty nose. Maree offered to "walk me to the door"- I think that she was actually escorting me. I had bags and bags of all of my things- notepads, magazines, a hole puncher, teabags. I looked homeless. Maree had told me that they were firing me so that they could let me "ascend to greatness". It's hard to feel great when you know you won't be getting paid any more. I sat on the bus with my sunglasses on, and I sniffled and cried. People stared at me. I just wanted some privacy. Geoff took me out for hot chocolate and cake, and then we went to Nando's for chicken and chips. I just wanted comfort food; hey, at least I wasn't popping pills. I wanted to do something violent during my dismissal meeting. Nothing to hurt anyone- I just wanted to smash a glass, or turn a table over, just because I could have. I cried pretty much from the moment they fired me at that 3pm meeting, until 1am when I went to sleep. All of these horrible clues started to make sense. I had seen Daniella talking to Maree earlier in the week. I thought, "What if they are talking about me?" And that week, the managing director had developed a furrow in his brows whenever he greeted me in the corridors. Daniella hardly spoke to me, perhaps out of guilt or maybe just because she didn't like me. A procession of Daniella's friends came through our office that week, whispering things to Daniella. I was given less and less work. The Sexyback Hobbit (the freelancer boy who had my job before me) kept appearing in our office, bouncing around like an evil leprechaun and basking in the adulation of others. I assumed I was just being paranoid and self-absorbed. Of course they wouldn't fire me. The next day, my eyes were so puffy that it was hard to see. On Sunday, I felt fabulous- I hated working there, anyway. And today, I feel lost. I keep thinking, is the Sexyback Hobbit sitting at my desk now? Was it ever my desk to begin with? Is everyone saying how glad that they are now that I am gone? Will people laugh about me during their lunch breaks? I don't even know what I am going to do next. I looked at the job ads today, and I called TAFE. But I just don't want to go through all of that again...writing cover letters that are never read, getting interviewed by smug, employed people. I do have lots of creative ideas right now, and I am itching to get back into art and acting. But of course, a girl's gotta get money for bread before she reaches for the hundreds'n'thousands to go on top. That day I was fired, Maree was wearing this top that I hate. It is a black, V-necked jumper that has a fake shirt underneath it. I guess it saves you from having to wear a shirt AND and a jumper. Maybe it reduces the amount of clothes you have to wear. Whatever her reasons, I hated that top. It looked like something a kid would wear, because they couldn't do up buttons. Daniella was also wearing her hair back in these two tight, greasy pigtails. I generally like pigtails, but on Daniella, they looked infantile. I cringed when I saw her. Daniella is almost 40 and definitely not cool- she looked ridiculous. Should I have taken these two poor styling choices as a bad omen for the day, or an omen for the rest of my career? Did these two women plot evil as they dressed that morning? I personally do not believe in omens. I do know that this is God's plan for me, and that He has better things ahead for me. However, I am still sad and feeling weird. Things are never easy, but at least they are eventful. I have never been fired before, so it was all very interesting. After one brief meeting, all of my plans and ideas were gone. No more car, no more wedding in December, no more apartment by the beach. I was even planning to make my first-ever purchase from Tiffany's on the weekend. Instead, I roamed around the shops and saw clothes that would be good to wear for work; then I remembered that there was no work to go to on Monday morning. I hope to get out of my sloppy home clothes and have more interesting things to write soon. Post a comment in response: |
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