And now I have to head to the boardroom because Jacquetta has me sitting in as the witness to someone being terminated today. A single mom, no less, who I don’t think deserves to be terminated.
I close my computer and head to the boardroom, looking down at my feet because I don’t want to make eye contact with anyone. I hate these kinds of meetings. I hate being forced to sit in on this, watching someone’s livelihood be ripped away over something petty.
We follow protocol to the letter, and that does not ever lend kindness to anyone. There’s no grace in protocol. It really messes with my soul.
I slip into the boardroom, still not making eye contact with anyone.
Everyone’s already here.
Of course.
I can feel Jacquetta’s eyes on me like I’m the one holding this meeting up, like my unnecessary attendance is what delayed her from destroying someone’s life.
“All right,” she says. “Everybody’s here now. Let’s go ahead and get started. Angela, do you know why you’re here?”
Angela shakes her head.
“Well, we see that you have been one minute late seven times in the past month, and tardiness is a problem. It’sunprofessional to be tardy. It is bringing down production and disturbing the system that we have in place.”
“But I—”
“No, no,” Jacquetta cuts her off. “I’m speaking now. Thank you. So, in accordance with your handbook, your employee handbook that you signed just last month with the updates we added, after five tardies in one month, you lose your job.”
Angela wails.
She slumps in her chair and cries so loudly that I feel it in my teeth.
And I understand, because what is she going to do? She has three kids, all of them in school. I’m sure she’s late because she’s dropping them off, and one small thing with one kid can throw your whole morning off. She works hard. She gets a lot done. She brings in good accounts.
“Security will take you to pack up your things,” Jacquetta says, a little louder over the crying. “You need to be out of here in the next twenty minutes.”
I sit at my desk with my head down at lunch, breathing deeply in through my nose and out through my mouth.
Today wasn’t right. That meeting was not right, and I don’t know if I can continue functioning today. I feel like I need to go home sick right now.
I’m empty.
This job makes me feel empty every day. I am successful. I do well. I help people. But at what cost to myself? And I didn’t help anybody today in that boardroom.
I roll my shoulders and open my Lit with Lily schedule on my phone.
It is absolutely full.
There’s something today and tomorrow, and three events each on Saturday and Sunday.
This is sustaining me.
And I don’t feel drained after three events, even when I have to lug all the tables and chairs and paint around.
It was even easier when Javonte helped me.
I pull up the pictures of us on my phone. I have a special folder that I haven’t looked at in a long time, but since he’s popped back up, I’ve been opening it more and more.
It doesn’t document the bad.
It’s all good in my phone.
“Why you sitting here in the dark?” Edie asks, opening my door and flipping the light on without permission.
