In my still-sleepy daze, I accidentally made a dozen copies of my sketches for Kacey’s backyard workspace. Not the office building bathrooms we’re meeting about.Shit.
At first, I think maybe nobody will notice. But then I feel Jason’s elbow nudging me on my right.
When I look up, Calvin is glaring at me with the intensity of Krampus come to steal children’s toys.
Jason, ever the quick thinker, begins scooping the papers up. “Leftovers from our last meeting. Leftovers from our last meeting.” He keeps saying it to every old white man in a navy-blue suit crammed in here, so they don’t think we’re an incompetent firm that enters meetings unprepared.
Paralyzed by my mistake, I barely even register when Jason hands me the pages and says, “Go. Now. Quickly.” He’s saving my ass. But I can’t help but read into his harsh tone.
The copier decides, this time, it’s back to being my foe. It won’t even turn on. I follow the power cord to the outlet hoping I just need to unplug it and plug it back in. But that doesn’t work.
At least this time, it pings and tells me what the issue is: paper jam.
I have no time to get our head of technology over here to work his magic. Instead, I take it upon myself to open this sucker up and clear the clog.
By the time I’m racing back into the boardroom with the right copies, the meeting is halfway over. When it finishes and the office building people file out like zoo penguins at feeding time, Calvin pulls me aside and says, “My office. Ten minutes.”
Another ten minutes of the worst cramps I’ve ever experienced.
We have one of those open floor plan offices. Even the more senior members of the firm have desks that are only separated by low dividers. I watch in dismay as the whisper network starts up. Numerous heads turn in my direction. My stomach becomes a snake eating its own tail.
Jason perches himself on the edge of my desk. He’s loudly eating an apple. “Calvin’s a hard-ass, but he’s not heartless. He’ll scold you. You’ll be fine.”
But when I enter Calvin’s office, the temperature is far more frigid than usual. Calvin’s hunched over his desk, rubbing his temples where his graying hair has also receded. He says nothing. I take the seat across from him.
Without opening his eyes, he holds up my sketch for Kacey’s workshop. Jason must’ve missed one. “What is this?”
“Oh, uh.” I’ve never been good about thinking on my feet. “Just something I’m fiddling with in my spare time. Nothing serious.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. His black, beady eyes are intense. “Because I made a call to this organization—the Rainbow Connection Coalition—and the kind woman on the phone told me she hired you—Patrick Hargrave—as the architect for the project.”
I should’ve been more explicit with Kacey about the parameters of our working relationship. Carver & Associates Architecture has a firm stance on moonlighting. While doing a job for a nonprofit isn’t exactly a conflict of interest, it doesn’t look great for me. Especially with my royal mess-ups this morning. “She’s not paying me.”
“That’s not what I was told,” he says. His frown lines grow their own frown lines. “Who am I to believe?”
I open my mouth. No words come out. I wish I could draw him an apology.
“Patrick, you’re a hard worker, you’re talented, and I think you make an excellent addition to our team, but teams need team players, not people who think they’re superstars all on their own.”
“Oh, I don’t think that.”
“Taking a moonlighting gig tells me otherwise.” Calvin’s wrinkly hands steeple in front of his face. He taps the point of his nose. Very serious. “On top of that, you used company supplies—the copier and the copy paper—to disseminate your work.”
“That was an honest mistake. I swear to you.” It’s times likethese I wish I didn’t wear such strong prescription glasses. I’m sure he can tell my magnified eyes are growing watery. “I—”
I cut myself off. Defending myself is fruitless. I was running late and wasn’t thinking. That’s not a strong case for keeping me on. “I’m sorry.”
“Regardless, Patrick, here at Carver & Associates Architecture, we have a zero-tolerance policy. Your general lack of attention over the last several months, your performance at the meeting today, and your disregard for policy mean we’re going to have to let you go.”
The words sound like an earthshaking explosion. “Sir, it was for a nonprofit.”
“No matter.”
“I needed the money for home repairs.”
“Perhaps your next position will pay better.”
“It’s the holidays!”
