text but her eyes refused to focus. After a few moments pretending to read, she passed the sheet across to Derek and sat back with arms folded.
âSorry, no deal.â
âClaire, this is not a game â you donât have a choice.â
âWhy not?â Suddenly all Claireâs experience of middle management had left her and she was just like any other bewildered employee trying to hold on to her job.
âClaire, you know why not.â Derek was rubbing his face, clearly exasperated.
âNo, it says there âredundancy
offer
â. And I think youâll find the dictionary meaning of âofferâ is âto present for acceptance or rejectionâ.â
Derek blinked twice while he processed what sheâd said, and then glared at her.
âDonât be a smart arse, Claire. It doesnât suit you. And being difficult is really not going to help the situation.â
âDifficult, Derek? Iâll be as difficult as I bloody well like. Iâm about to lose my job, my final shred of security. Kick me while Iâm down, why donât you?â
âI know and Iâm sorry, I really am.â Derek stared at his fingers in his lap.
âNot sorry enough to stop this.â She jabbed a finger at the piece of paper.
âPlease, Claire, donât shoot the messenger,â he said wearily.
âYou could have stopped this. I donât know how, but you could have.â Claireâs eyes flashed at him.
Derek looked back down at his desk. âClaire, for the record, I did actually try. If youâd been on leave like I suggested, you couldnât have been made redundant.â
âOh, so itâs my fault now.â
âAnd if you look at the figures, youâll find the
offer
is well aboveâ¦â
âThis is not about the money, Derek.â
âOf course it is, Claire. Itâs not personal. The new CEO is just making his mark by changing the organisational structure â itâs not about
you
.â
Claire shot him an indignant glare.
âJust sign the bloody letter, take your time off, and then worry about it. Youâll have no trouble finding another job â Iâll do all I can to help.â
âAnd if I donât sign it?â
âYou will be fired. So thatâs your choice â twelve months pay or two weeks.â
âFine!â Claire snatched the piece of paper back, grabbed a pen from Derekâs holder, and roughly scrawled her signature. She got up, threw both pen and paper at Derek, and stalked towards the door.
âUm, Claire?â
She wanted to keep walking and complete her grand exit, but something in Derekâs tone made her stop and turn. He was focussed on the desk in front of him.
âI have to inform management and then you are to be escorted from the building. You have about forty minutes. Go back to your desk and pack your things,â he said, unable to look her in the eye.
Claire sat in her car, panting from the exertion of holding her dignity together while being walked past her colleagues and underlingsâ workstations flanked by two overweight, middle-aged security men who couldnât have outrun a headless chicken if their jobs dependedon it. She hated being the highlight of their day â possibly year â and especially despised the grim, authoritarian expressions that did little to hide their smugness.
Claire barely remembered the faces which had uttered vague messages of hope before bobbing back down, the acceptable length of time between curiosity and nosiness having expired. As she tramped down the hall, forced to keep the slow pace of the kitchener bun boys beside her, Claire just wished she could disappear.
On the passenger seat beside her was a box of personal items from her desk: clock, phone charger, photo frames, Keithâs snow dome. The security staff hadnât stopped her throwing in the stress ball with the company logo â
âSorry, no deal.â
âClaire, this is not a game â you donât have a choice.â
âWhy not?â Suddenly all Claireâs experience of middle management had left her and she was just like any other bewildered employee trying to hold on to her job.
âClaire, you know why not.â Derek was rubbing his face, clearly exasperated.
âNo, it says there âredundancy
offer
â. And I think youâll find the dictionary meaning of âofferâ is âto present for acceptance or rejectionâ.â
Derek blinked twice while he processed what sheâd said, and then glared at her.
âDonât be a smart arse, Claire. It doesnât suit you. And being difficult is really not going to help the situation.â
âDifficult, Derek? Iâll be as difficult as I bloody well like. Iâm about to lose my job, my final shred of security. Kick me while Iâm down, why donât you?â
âI know and Iâm sorry, I really am.â Derek stared at his fingers in his lap.
âNot sorry enough to stop this.â She jabbed a finger at the piece of paper.
âPlease, Claire, donât shoot the messenger,â he said wearily.
âYou could have stopped this. I donât know how, but you could have.â Claireâs eyes flashed at him.
Derek looked back down at his desk. âClaire, for the record, I did actually try. If youâd been on leave like I suggested, you couldnât have been made redundant.â
âOh, so itâs my fault now.â
âAnd if you look at the figures, youâll find the
offer
is well aboveâ¦â
âThis is not about the money, Derek.â
âOf course it is, Claire. Itâs not personal. The new CEO is just making his mark by changing the organisational structure â itâs not about
you
.â
Claire shot him an indignant glare.
âJust sign the bloody letter, take your time off, and then worry about it. Youâll have no trouble finding another job â Iâll do all I can to help.â
âAnd if I donât sign it?â
âYou will be fired. So thatâs your choice â twelve months pay or two weeks.â
âFine!â Claire snatched the piece of paper back, grabbed a pen from Derekâs holder, and roughly scrawled her signature. She got up, threw both pen and paper at Derek, and stalked towards the door.
âUm, Claire?â
She wanted to keep walking and complete her grand exit, but something in Derekâs tone made her stop and turn. He was focussed on the desk in front of him.
âI have to inform management and then you are to be escorted from the building. You have about forty minutes. Go back to your desk and pack your things,â he said, unable to look her in the eye.
Claire sat in her car, panting from the exertion of holding her dignity together while being walked past her colleagues and underlingsâ workstations flanked by two overweight, middle-aged security men who couldnât have outrun a headless chicken if their jobs dependedon it. She hated being the highlight of their day â possibly year â and especially despised the grim, authoritarian expressions that did little to hide their smugness.
Claire barely remembered the faces which had uttered vague messages of hope before bobbing back down, the acceptable length of time between curiosity and nosiness having expired. As she tramped down the hall, forced to keep the slow pace of the kitchener bun boys beside her, Claire just wished she could disappear.
On the passenger seat beside her was a box of personal items from her desk: clock, phone charger, photo frames, Keithâs snow dome. The security staff hadnât stopped her throwing in the stress ball with the company logo â
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