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MAYA
"You're fired."
"What do you mean, I'm fired?"
"I mean... today's your last day."
I debate asking for another definition of 'fired' to be a real pain in the ass. But my stubborn nature kicks in. "For what? Having an opinion?"
My (ex)boss sets his jaw. I can tell he's trying hard not to react to my attitude.
"Maya... you know why you're being let go."
I do. I know exactly why, but I won't go out without a fight. I glare at him instead. He sighs and reaches into his pocket.
"Here," he says, tossing me an envelope of cash. "This should help."
I snatch the envelope out of his hand. I should've known better than to let my feelings get in the way of my career. It was my dream job - Events Coordinator at the prestigious Sunstone Resort. It took me years to get this position.
It was a world of glittering ballrooms, grand conferences, and lavish weddings. My job was to transform ordinary spaces into extraordinary experiences. And I was good at it — really good. I have a knack for details, a flair for creativity, and can handle pressure like a real boss bitch.
I thought I was indispensable to the team.
Apparently not.
My big fat mouth has gotten me in trouble yet again. And here I am, standing in front of my boss, getting fired for speaking my mind.
Maya. I don't know where you got such an attitude from. Your father and I did not raise you like this.
My mom's words sting in my memory. In our family, there was a fine line between being outspoken and being disrespectful. In my case, that line was more like a daring tightrope I walked daily with a blindfold on.
They would sit me down, time and time again, after I'd said something too honest, too blunt, at family gatherings, at school meetings, at my part-time job at the local café.
You needto learn to filter,they would say.
I want to scream.
It all started during the marketing strategy meeting a few weeks back. As the youngest and arguably, boldest member of the team, I wasn't afraid to rattle a few cages. When my boss unveiled his latest strategy, a plan to cut costs by outsourcing labor to countries where exploitation is rampant, my heart had dropped.
I couldn't bite my tongue. "Are wereallygoing to build our empire on the backs of exploited workers? Isn't there a more ethical way we can achieve cost efficiency?"
The room fell silent. You could have heard a pin drop.
My boss looked at me, not with anger, but with an unreadable expression. The meeting ended abruptly after that. And the rest is history, as they say.
I don't get it. What was I supposed to do? Keep my mouth shut and pretend like it was okay? No way. That's not who I am, and it never will be.
Maya, just keep your mouth shut. It's not worth it.
More memories from my childhood flood my brain. I question myself.
Is it better to stay quiet when something is wrong?
I'm not convinced.
I shake my head and look up at my boss. He's still standing there, looking impassive. "Well..." He looks me dead in the eye. "You can go now, Maya. We’re done here."
