Teabags in my pocket

It was all to change at 10 past 1 on a Friday afternoon. I mean the first strange thing was that I was still working at 10 past one. I’m a firm believer in following Beyoncé’s diet of eating every two hours. Over the years I’ve learnt to not take any chances so I’ve made it every hour and here I was ten minutes late. At the time I thought I guess that’s the sacrifices you make when you’re Miss Manager. Just as I was about to head out for a king size Burger king meal my phone rang. It was ‘the second in command’ asking me if I had a minute. Had I any inkling as to what was about to happen, I would have pretended to be the intern. ‘Of course’ I said thinking he probably had some urgent business that only Miss Manager could solve. ‘OOhh it’s like a proper meeting’ I said as I went in and discovered both bosses were there.

‘I’m afraid it’s not good news, we’re going to have to let you go’.

My face didn’t so much drop as froze in a stiff smile.

My boss just kept saying ‘you’re not the only one to go’ which goes to show how little the man knew me and how self-absorbed I am. He then tried the lines of comfort.

‘It’s not you, you’re terrific, we just can’t afford to keep so many staff’. It was around this point that the tears began to come.

‘I mean you deserve to be on so much more money than we can pay you’

‘I know’ I sobbed and then in a high pitched shrill ‘BUT NOBODY… SEEMS…. TO…. BELIEVE… MEEEEE’.

‘You’ll find something in no time’ clearly the man was delusional. Had he no idea how long it had taken me to find this job and this was a terrible job. Within minutes I was basically being asked to vacate the building, had he still got the staff I probably would have been escorted off the premises, thank god scary 6 foot 5 was on lunch. So I gathered my mint teabags, emergency chocolate supply, hideous cardigan I only wear around the freezing office and the mini post-its and highlighters I had treated myself to when I got promoted. It was only then I realised I had nothing to carry them in. Apparently it’s only in America that they supply you with those convenient brown cardboard boxes that lets everybody know you’ve just lost your job and deserve sympathy. I was fearful that my co-worker would be back soon and that the tears wouldn’t be far behind again. So I put on the hideous cardigan, scoffed as much emergency chocolate as I could fit into my mouth, emptied the mint tea into my coat pockets and jammed the highlighters into my tiny but stylish handbag. While the post-it’s were as promised miniature and convenient for all occasions.

To be continued……..


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