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Luckily, the elevator doors open and the conversation comes to an end as we march to our cubicles.
I set about turning on my workstation and getting ready for the day as the distinct sound of chunky heels on carpet grows closer and closer.
“Lily, glad to see you back in the office,” Rhonda says as she leans against the outer wall of my cubicle.
I nod. “Thank you. I feel much better today.”
“Yes, well, why don’t we discuss that in my office,” she says and heads down the aisle, leaving no room for rebuttal.
Michelle and I share an “oh fuck” glance and I trudge to the end of the claims floor to meet her.
“Please, shut the door behind you and have a seat, Lily.” She gestures to the chair in front of her desk and I oblige, keeping my thumbnail out of my mouth by sheer force of will.
“Lily, while I understand you haven’t been feeling well lately, you disregarded policy by leaving early yesterday and not informing me.”
Disbelief renders me speechless as Rhonda slides a formal write-up across the desk.
Rhonda sees as much on my face and explains further. “While it’s true that Michelle informed me, it’s clearly stated in the employee handbook that you must call in yourself.”
What a load of horse shit! What if I were incapacitated and couldn’t call in? Then what? Or hospitalized and didn’t have my phone?
I said none of those things and simply signed the form.
“I know it’s not the greatest policy,” Rhonda offers, twisting a finger in the long string of pearls around her neck. “However, it’s a policy all the same.”
Corporate rules rarely have the employee in mind.
“I called you multiple times yesterday. If only you’d picked up, I could have avoided this write up on a technicality.” She sighed, rubbing her hand across her creased forehead. “Now, unfortunately, this is your third write-up in the last few weeks.”
“What?” My stomach dropped all the way to the ugly gray carpet at my feet. She can’t be serious! She’s going to count this toward—
I pause. Why wouldn’t she count this write-up as number three? It was the third. Simple as that.
I deserve this.
Rhonda nods, sympathy pulling her at her brows. “You were late three times this month. I was lenient and only wrote you up for the last two.” She pulled the signed write-ups from the manilla folder resting on her desk blotter. But I didn’t need to see them. I knew she was right. I’d signed the last two, knowing if I got another…
“I’m so sorry, Lily. The policy is clear. I have to let you go.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. My eyes sting with unshed tears, and my throat hardens as Rhonda looks at me with pity.
“Go ahead and sign this.” She pushes the formal dismissal paperwork to me. “And then clear out your cube. There’s a box behind you for your things.”
Heart thudding in my temples, I sign the dismissal on autopilot and leave Rhonda’s office without another word, walking back to my cube in a daze.
I put the few things I had on my desk in my purse—I don’t need a box for hand cream and an extra cardigan—as quietly as possible. I don’t want to make a scene. Nope. That is the last thing I want.
I make it all the way to the elevator before Michelle notices, which is just how I wanted it.
“Hey, where ya going?” she hollers all the way down the aisle, drawing everyone’s attention as I reach the elevator.
OK, I hadn’t expected Michelle to make a scene.
Back to them, I don’t say anything. I can’t or I might start blubbering right there in front of the whole claims floor.
Mercifully, the elevator doors open and I don’t have to. I enter, turn around to hit the ground floor button, and give her a quick peace-sign.
The doors close before Michelle’s features shift from confusion to anger, but her “What the actualfuck is going on here?”rings through the entire floor and into the elevator car.
