Hot Chocolate and Caroling | ✓

Friday, December 9th.

"You're fired."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"What?" The word drifts out in a whisper. The mood is heavy in my boss's office. I guess I should say ex-boss.

"I'm sorry. This year has been hard, and we just can't afford to keep everyone onboard anymore." He folds his hands on the desk in front of him. It felt as if he was willing me to just stand up and leave. No questions asked, and no concern about how I was going to break the news to my husband. How would we afford our bills?

"But it's two weeks before Christmas!" The air felt like it was leaving the room. My lungs begging for oxygen but failing to gulp enough to suffice their need. His face was stuck in a scowl, like a statue made of stone. Had he blinked since I'd been in here?

My eyes wander the room, taking in the lack of details. Spread across David's desk was a notepad, a pen tucked neatly into the spine, a plain black mouse pad. His coffee cup was next to his keyboard and a small bowl of paperclips in the desk's corner. There was no personality, and nothing to show that David has any emotions or does any work here.

"Once again, I'm sorry." It didn't matter how many times he apologizes, it didn't feel like he meant it. I couldn't help but feel anger boil up in my throat at the thought of the nice mansion he would go back to this evening. Not a single thing changed in his life. Did he even care about what he was doing? Was this just another task on his to-do list?

"After everything I've done for this company, I'm the one you are choosing to fire? I've been here for over six years. I've worked harder than anyone else out there to make sure everything is perfectly done, and this is the thanks I get?" The words spill out with a venom even I didn't know I could spew. Before I could think about what I had said, it was too late. Had he even acknowledged the person sitting across from him?

"It's an unfortunate thing, and I understand it's at a difficult time, but Nicole, take the chance to spend some time with your family. The hours you have worked over the years have been more than enough for any person. You could use the break." Unfolding his hands, he leans back in his chair. Grabbing the mouse to his computer, closing himself off from the conversation in hopes I would get the hint and hit the road. "Please clean out your desk. Today will be your last day."

There was no warning that this was how today was going to go. I turn to look out the window. The sun kisses the trees, melting the top layer of ‌snow. Cars fill the road, their tires pushing through slush from the storm three days ago. They were probably other employees heading for food during their lunch breaks.

"I thought the editors were going to be safe in the budget cuts. Everything is online now. You don't need so many print people still on the line." I growl, feeling the anger peek inside of me. He really didn't care, but a sense of guilt washes over me. Did I really just throw the print people under the bus? Even if they were facing the same fate.