D&GFE Oneshots

A boss breaks some bad news.

"Morning, Viv! Do you have a moment?"

Vivian startled, nearly dropping her cup of coffee. She probably had nothing to be scared for—it was just Minnie, the nicest boss in Gildsborg—but she'd been keyed up for the past week.

"Yes, I'm free right now."

"Would you mind popping into my office for a moment?"

Vivian nodded, still looking down at her coffee cup. She'd gotten it from the break room herself this morning. Usually, she took coffee with enough milk and sugar to fatally drown the taste of coffee. Other objects (by which she means one specific object and his crowd of sycophants) had been taking up a corner of the break room with conversation and laughter and leering, however, and she didn't want their eyes on her for a single second. She had made herself a cup of plain black coffee and quick escape.

I used to have interns who'd buy me coffee from the place across from Oscar's, Vivian thought, mournful. She then scolded herself for feeling mournful about that, and silently wished her former interns all the best in their future career prospects.

She stood in front of her boss's desk, looking around the office until Minnie gestured with her antenna for Vivian to take a seat. The chair, although it was actually quite comfortable, felt cold against her frame. Maybe she was just cold.

"I assume this visit isn't a social call?"

"No," Minnie admitted. "I'm here to talk to you about a raise." She said raise the way most people might say catastrophic explosion or deadly disease. This was still enough to give Vivian pause. She'd walked into Minnie's office expecting to be kicked to the curb with a two weeks' notice and profuse apologies. If she was lucky, she'd get to do coffee runs for Raffone.

"A raise?"

"Well, the folks managing Gildstar entertainment are all about numbers. The brains behind the whole station are a few guys who spend their days filling out spreadsheets, not the radio folks or crew or the hosts. And they've been talking about a 'major shakeup' for a while now. And—"

"Is Raffone taking my job?" Vivian asked, cutting Minnie off. She put her hand over her mouth immediately after, shocked her mouth had managed to say something so impolite before her good sense could beat down the thought.

"He's replacing you in your current position as Gildstar News's host, yes. You would become his co-host." Minnie seemed just as upset about the change as Vivian, but Vivian preferred her misery without any company. She flattened her expression and tone.

"And, as his co-host, I will supposedly be paid more..." Vivian looked at the ceiling. "Maybe not more than him, but more than I'm—I was paid for my own work as a host." Minnie looked around the office for prying eyes and coincidentally passing-by ears before learning forward and looking at Vivian.

"You will be paid more than him, and by a damn good amount, pardon me."

You're coming on strong, hm?  Vivian thought. "Why would they go to all that trouble to keep me?" she asked instead. It's not as if she wasn't ungrateful—people who said money couldn't buy happiness had never had to compare crying in a bed to crying in a dank alleyway—but she had no reason to believe that the data-wielding, sunlight-deficient poindexters from upper management had any reason to keep her on the team over their rising star.

"It's not 'their' choice at all," Minnie said, narrowing her eyes. "Do you want to know how they decided to replace Mike with you as the host of the news network in the first place?"

"I thought it was because..." Vivian trailed off. She thought it was because of a lot of things. Because she didn't have 'star potential,' because Mike was a charmer and Vivian's stabs at charm were just ditzy, because Vivian was a woman who'd spent her entire life at hard, boring work while Mike was a man appeared one day at the station with little background and the mystique of a magician who hadn't revealed all of his tricks yet. Minnie seemed to get the gist.

"It was because of numbers," she continued. "They tracked how many people watched the channel at different times, different segments, all of that sort. By a tiny percentage, the sports segment gained viewership when Mike replaced the old host. The numbers guys figure, well, they don't give a hoot about the sports segment, they want more people watching our news, right?"

"So they put all of their money on the new guy who is, for whatever reason, drawing more people in," Vivian finished. The reason is that you're a charmless and desperate, she thought. The following thought was a simple reminder for her thoughts to shut up.

"It's been an investment strategy for a long time. Seems like it's just starting to trickle down and out of stock exchanges and into... Everything else."

"This doesn't sound like a strategy. This sounds like gambling."

"Sure thing. I have a strategy too, though, and her name is Vivian." Minnie smiled. "You have fans all over Gildsborg. People love your style, the way you carry yourself. Mail from fans of the station mention you by name as a favorite of theirs. Folks might like Mike, but they'll never like him as much as they hate when things change."

"So, I was allowed to stay here out of force of habit." Vivian's eyes drifted to the floor. She remembered her lonely college experience, the journalistic work she hurled herself into before she had the chance to go to a single party, make a single friend. The pressure she carried as the one person in her family to become something greater than the side of Gildsborg they lived in.

"Management allowed you here on that reason. I fought for you because I know this station's better with you in it, and if I hadn't said anything..." Minnie looked away, shame settling into her face. "You wouldn't have had reason to stay here. You're one of the brightest young women I've met in quite a while—that degree of yours alone could take you just about anywhere you wanted to go."

"I'm not certain about that one." That uncertainty was why Vivian hadn't packed a single bag or called a single number from the ad section of Gildstar's own newspaper. Minnie was (most of the time) an honest woman who chose employees based on a combination of their merits and their "attitude," a vague descriptor of how well they'd mesh with the rest of the station. Other stations might not see Vivian's merits. Other stations might see a cyborg woman with a vain streak and a nervous attitude and too much makeup and not enough willingness in her smile.

"I am." Minnie stood and slid one of the papers on her otherwise neat desk towards Vivian. She knew it was the contract for her demotion/raise before she read a single word of it. Small-print words swam across her eyes. She didn't have to read the thing to know her options were to become Mike's co-host or to reenter the career lottery and spin as many times as she could before landing a job hopefully better than laundry or waitressing. Vivian took a pen from Minnie's repurposed coffee mug and signed away her right to be the star of Gildstar News. Minnie grimaced.

"Apologies for all this business."

Which are you sorry for? Demoting me, or still presenting yourself as the only real option? "It's alright, thank you." Vivian stood up again—"I've loved working here, really,"—and started towards the door—"have a nice day, ma'am."

Minnie seemed a little bit comforted by Vivian's politeness. This was why Vivian was polite in the first place, placating her way out of the office and through the door until it was just her, alone in the hall with her face plastered on the walls in peeling, fading paint. She commanded her legs to walk her towards the exit. It was the end of her shift, anyway, she needed to go home. She needed to put one foot in front of the other, and get in her car, and drive to her house.

At the other end of the hall, the door to the newsroom was open, letting out a blue glow. She saw the squared-off silhouette of Mike as he chatted and laughed with the crew that she used to chat and laugh with. Her expression, very pointedly, didn't have a trace of anger. She turned back toward the exit, leaving Raffone and his cronies behind.