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He continues to berate me. “You know, it wasn’t my idea to hire you. And now, seeing how you screwed over the client with this crappy work, I know I was right.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but if you could explain what’s so wrong with the brief?” I try to sound calm, but my whole body is coiled, ready to flee. “I’m happy to fix it. I’ll work all night if I have to.”

“What isn’t wrong, I think you mean.” More spit flies out of his mouth. I lean back, eager to avoid being hit by the splatter.

“Sir, with all due respect, I only followed your directions. I included the notes about – ” Draper waves his hand in my face, cutting me off.

“No, it’s your job to catch the errors.”

I’m perplexed. But what errors? I want to scream.

“As a result, it’s my job to tell you that you’re fired,” he says in a pleased tone. The little man sits back and folds his hands over his belly with satisfaction. The words are so unexpected that at first, I don’t quite process what I’m hearing.

“Sir? I’m – what?” I stare at him blankly.

“Fired, Miss Sutton. Effective immediately.”

“Fired? But Jensen, I mean Mr. Draper,” I stammer, completely thrown.

“Jensen? What makes you think you can ever address me so casually?” Now the little man is fuming, his entire body shaking with rage. “You know what, Michelle?” he spits my name. “I was just going to fire you but seeing how insolent you are, I think I’ll go ahead and report you to the State Bar too. No one wants a smartass lawyer like you!”

I feel every ounce of color leave my face. What the hell? All this for accidentally calling him by his first name?

Out loud, I plead.

“Please, Mr. Draper, please don’t report me. I promise I’ll leave without any trouble. I get that I didn’t do the best job on the brief. But please,” I beg him, my eyes starting to get teary, “just don’t make me lose my license. How will I find another job if there’s a disciplinary mark on my record?” I wipe my eyes quickly, embarrassed to be crying but in shock over how quickly the situation has escalated.

“Tears?” Draper smirks. “Tears aren’t going to do you any good, missy. In fact,” he rises from his chair and crosses so that he’s looming over me. “I’m sick of it. There have been far too many of you pretty young things getting away with shit. So yes, I will absolutely be reporting you. The screw-up is your fault, and you’re going to be the example so everyone knows that a pretty face isn’t enough to get you off the hook.”

I stare at the irate man, my own mouth agape in shock. Why is he doing this? I wonder, genuinely unsure what could have prompted such a harsh and unfair punishment.

Maybe it’s because of all the other women? He said ‘pretty face,’ and I know he’s hit on several of the other women in the office. Even poor June said that he cornered her in the break room that other day.

I shudder at the story.

“Mr. Draper,” I state, my voice mercifully steady, “I understand that you may have taken issue with my last brief. However, I followed your instructions and guidelines without question. If there was an error in those instructions, I’m sorry for not catching it. But please, you cannot report me to the State Bar because of that. It was an honest mistake.”

At the end of my little speech, I stand up so that I’m looming over Jensen. I feel my heart thudding, and in my mind, I hope that he’ll listen to reason. Instead, for the next several minutes, Jensen rants and raves at me.

“Followed my instructions? You didn’t. You added your own input into the document. Then you were blatantly disrespectful toward me during client meetings, contradicting me and correcting me all the time,” he sneers, pressing his face toward mine. “And you didn’t catch the errors. Well, you’re a sloppy, crappy lawyer and you will not work in this state again! Expect a disciplinary call from the authorities soon. Now get out of my office!”

I flee his office, choking back tears. I run past his kindly assistant, who is half-standing, clutching her necklace. I have no doubt that she heard everything Jensen said, but I don’t stop. Instead, I head straight to my cubicle.

Without thinking and without a word to any of my colleagues, I sweep my personal contents into an empty file box. But before I can completely finish gathering up my things, hot tears begin pouring down my cheeks.

I run out of the office, leaving behind my quirky lamp and all sense of hope that this awful situation can be fixed.3GabrielThis guy is a total clown, I think as I observe the short, oily man. He’s sweating profusely, his whole body shaking with nervous energy. It’s obvious he’s terrified to be sitting in the soft leather chair across from my brother, Tom.

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