Halfway through the introductions of the new CEO’s and executives, Darcy had felt a gentle tug in her stomach. She thought it was her too-tight pants just once again digging into her tummy area, but soon the tug turned into a loud growl. Her co-workers were polite and didn’t look over in her direction, but she knew they heard it. It was impossible not to.
She tried folding her legs to minimize the gurgling sounds that seemed to take over the large, boring, tiled boardroom, echoes bouncing off the walls from time to time. Her face had begun to turn an impossible shade of red, and began to slowly chastise herself for having eaten a meal in under two minutes, and couldn’t stand it any longer. She tried to be inconspicuous and walk towards the door of the boardroom where the washroom just lay steps beyond, but to get there, she had to walk by the entire panel of new bosses and their assistants. She opted to just ‘hold it in’ but soon she became so uncomfortable that she had no choice but to get up abruptly from where she sat beside Sylvia and make a bee-line to the bathroom, en-route knocking over the new CEO’s water bottle which she noticed had fallen all over his PowerPoint presentation before she flew into the stall and did her business.
From that point onwards, she had vowed to herself that she would use the washroom before attending anything that had no set end time.
Washing her hands in the bathroom after using the facilities, Darcy noticed two co-workers enter, their voices heightened and their movements hurried, almost as though moving in fast forward.
Darcy didn’t know their names but they were Sylvia-esque. Middle aged, slightly frumpy and wearing pastel colors to the max. They continued to speak to one other as though Darcy wasn’t in the room.
“…and Mr. Thomas just got up and left,” one woman said, applying another layer of red lipstick so dark that her lips almost resembled an open wound.
“Really?!” the other replied, clearly surprised and riveted by her friends reveal. “Didn’t he clear out his office or talk to anyone else before leaving the building? That seems a bit of an extreme action, especially coming from him.”
Darcy could not have agreed more. Mr. Thomas was their general supervisor and was seen as the unofficial head of the firm, next to his silent partner. It did seem very bizarre for him to take any kind of severe action after having had a meeting of any kind, and to leave the building without even grabbing anything out of his office seemed hard to believe.
“Not a single thing”, the other woman said, spritzing herself with perfume whose smell reminded Darcy a bit like a funeral home. “Everyone was looking at him as he ran out and he didn’t even look back. So strange.”
The two women then descended into other unimportant small talk as Darcy left the room after having taken already too long to dry her hands. She felt the seeds of anxiety flourish in her stomach, reminding her again of her big gulp/hot dog experience, and walked back to her desk, deftly afraid of what the meeting that was only minutes away was going to present to her.
***
The boardroom was average in its decor, which was sort of always a mystery to her seeing as the firm always went on and one about how prestigious it was and how so many famous clients came in and came out of its large oak doors. The doors were indeed impressive and larger than life, but the table that sat in the center of the boardroom seemed to be made out of a poor quality wood. It was indeed enormous, nearly taking up the entire room which was larger than her apartment all together, and could have easily accommodated upwards of 75 people if need be. But today, Darcy noted, the room was only comprised of the staff she saw day in and day out, which couldn’t have totaled more than 50.
She opted to venture into the boardroom once she noticed the steady stream of visibly agitated staff members begin to enter its portentous doors. She knew that Sylvia would be angry for not waiting for her make a grand entrance together, but Darcy just wanted to make a clean entrance and quick exit. She wasn’t comfortable with large social situations in general.
Venturing to the rear of the room where Artie the mailroom guy and Jocelyn, the overtly sexy administrative assistant to Mr. Thomas (who was notably absent) sat. They were both quiet, which Darcy mentally noted was a rare occurrence unto itself. Artie always had something to say, even if it had to deal with such mundane subjects as the weather or municipal politics that no one really cared about. Jocelyn, who nearly wasn’t as chatty as Artie most times because she thought herself superior to most of the staff members, looked like she was battling a very sore stomach. Darcy secretly reveled in the flop sweat that lined the woman’s wrinkle-free forehead.
At 11 am, like clockwork, Arin stood up from his perch at the head of the boardroom. He was actually well dressed today, Darcy noted, and his tie matched his suit, which in itself was a rare event. Sometimes she had just wanted to take him to the closest suit shop and pick out all of the possible suit/tie combinations that he could wear so that she would be saved from her internal monologue going on overdrive every morning when she saw his mismatched wardrobe.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming to this morning,” Arin began, his voice deep and strong. Darcy began to feel weirded out by this newly confident boss of hers. Normally at their bi-annual staff meetings, Arin was noticeably nervous and even shook at times when he had to address the group as a whole, lip quiver at maximum capacity. There was no lip quiver today, which made Darcy’s seeds of anxiety grow into little trees that she thought she felt pushing against the lining of her stomach.
“I realize that you all must be rather apprehensive and curious as to why we decided to schedule a meeting rather on the fly,” Arin went on, deliberately trying to make eye contact with the personnel before him. “Normally, we schedule our meetings way in advance but something has happened rather suddenly, I’m afraid.”
Sylvia was trying to make eye contact with Darcy, a semi-frown upon her well-donned face full of make-up from the other side of the room, but Darcy ignored her and remained focused on Arin, which was something she always deliberately tried not to do.
“Unfortunately, as you can see, Mr. Thomas was unable to make it to today as he had to leave unexpectedly.” Darcy thought she heard her stomach growl from the seeds that were growing like they were now on steroids, but she then realized it was only Jocelyn holding back a gagging sound. Darcy didn’t know if it was a forced sound or if the woman was actually going to be visibly sick in front of all her colleagues.
“It seems I have some difficult news to share with you all today. Before I tell you, however, I must thank you sincerely for all of your incredible hard work and diligence to make this firm one of the best well know in the New England area. Without you, we would still be a two-partner firm with no famous clients to our name.”
It was as though the room, which had moments ago been full of a nervous, semi-excitable energy, had had all of its air completely sucked out of it, leaving everyone open-mouthed and shocked. Bad news was coming, all right, and Darcy braced herself, trees in her stomach and all.
“I’m just going to come out and say it to you all, because you deserve as much,” Arin continued, a wry smile on his face. “A new, rather well-known firm will be merging with a new, very well established firm effective tomorrow. Stearns, Miller and Ross will be joining Thomas and Chide.”
Darcy was not too well versed in other law firms in her city, but she did know Stearns, Miller and Ross. The firm had a very flamboyant and rather tacky building right on the downtown strip where its partners had pictures the size of billboards lining the front of the building. It was absurdly famous, Darcy remembered, as there was a long list of clients who had won their cases when the entire world was sure of their guilt.
“This is exciting news, yes,” Arin hammered on. “But I’m afraid there is bad news that must accompany it. As you very well know, Stearns, Miller and Ross is a very successful firm, and as such, they have a very large staff. Which means, unfortunately, we will have to let some of you go,”
Darcy felt her heart beat quicken,
joining Jocelyn with flop sweat appearing on her brow. She was expecting some sort of bad news, there was no denying that, but possibly being laid off was certainly not one of them. She looked over at Sylvia who looked confused and blushing.
“Which ones of us will be let go?” Artie immediately said loudly, startling Darcy and other nearby staff.
“Well, it was certainly a difficult decision,” Arin continued. The two foreign faces that sat beside him, one woman who had a striking resemblance to Felicity Huffman while in character in her film Transamerica, and a man who was non-distinguishable in any way, looked at one another as though afraid to face the crowd before them.
“Seeing as everyone here is so hard working, well, for the most part,” Arin laughed, causing Darcy to flinch. His comic timing was horrendous and this only confirmed it. “We couldn’t lay people off based on job performance. So, collectively, the new firm and I made some executive decisions. Everyone who has less than 10 years seniority will be leaving us effective today. I realize it's very short notice but Gilda here from Human Resources will be able to help you with any questions that you may have. Once you return to your desks after this meeting is completed, you will find a package on your desk for those of you who will be leaving the firm immediately.”
Darcy felt her heart fall deeply into her stomach. Actually, she thought it may have fallen into her pelvis and then spill onto her upper thighs. She’d only been with the firm for five years, and despite her stellar work ethic and job performance, she was being let go. The color drained from her face, as did the faces of her colleagues within certain pockets in the room around her. She felt as though she was trapped within a bad dream, a terribly awful one at that, but she knew that wasn’t the case. She was being fired and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
Chapter 7
If she had to wager money earlier that morning how she was going to spend the rest of her Monday afternoon, she would have been placed in the poor house faster than the rate she was going to it now, post-firing. From the time in which Arin made the announcement that everyone at the firm with less than 10 years of service was being made redundant to her current state (puffy-eyed from crying and cradling a liter of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream in her lap like it was a newborn baby) atop her sofa. Even her dog sensed there was some sort of seismic shift happening and she kept her little hiney in the den area that she liked to call her own room.
Darcy felt catatonic, coma-like at best. She found herself wishing with every fiber of her being that sleep would come, but instead her mind continued to play cruel tricks on her and provided seemingly random short memories of the eventful morning at the office. She would nod off at times, either due to the sugar overload or the many tears she had shed, but would always re-awaken instantaneously as though she was being shaken awake by some imaginary force. In those instances, her dog would cock her little head from side to side, long ears standing at full attention. For a brief instant, she thought that perhaps losing her job was indeed just a bad dream that was a result of her over-intake of ice cream, but then she realized that it was no bad dream but a harsh, cold, and entirely unexpected reality.
She sat up on her couch and sighed heavily, hearing the air flow out of her nose. She was a bit congested due to the outpouring of tears, and a pile of used tissues lay beside her on the sofa with a few sprinkled on the cream carpet before her. Before settling into her candy/tear filled catatonia, she did manage to pull her blinds shut to block out any semblance of light that may have entered the small apartment, and ensured that all lights had been turned off to create a cave-like vibe that she felt was the only environment she could tolerate at that particular moment in time.
Looking down at the towering pile of tissues and newborn-sized ice cream container in her lap, she saw a large, brown glob glistening on her blazer. At first she wondered what the stain was and how it got there, but then quickly figured that it was a fallen glob of the ice cream she was manically ingesting. Chastising herself for not changing out of her work clothes (were they still work clothes if you didn’t have a job? she wondered), she ventured slowly into her bedroom steps away from her living room and changed into a more appropriate sweat suit ensemble.
Leaving her work/unemployed work clothes in a random mound on her hardwood floor, she flopped onto the bed, appreciating its warmth and comfort. She honestly surprised herself with the intense and overwhelming emotions she found herself feeling after being fired. She often guffawed and secretly judged those people who claimed their life was over after being fired from their jobs, for not having a reason to live. You could just get another job, she remembered having thought to herself after many occasions, often saying these words aloud to her television set to an A and E true-life docu-series.
But now that she was experiencing the exact same thing as those untouchable and unreal real people on television. She was inexplicably overcome with disbelief and dismay, and to a certain extent, anger. Darcy Platt was not one to get fired. She had had the same part time job for 8 years, all the way until she finished her undergraduate degree in Sociology. She was the kind of person who left a job willingly, not because she was being forced out. Darcy Platt, she thought to herself, was a walking mess.
Feeling the stress build in her chest, she picked up the phone and dialed Sonya's work number. She didn’t like to bore or bother her friends with her life issues, but she felt that this recent life development warranted a phone call.
Hearing the phone ring, she noticed on her alarm clock that it was nearly 2 pm, and hoped that Sonya wasn’t tied up in some crazy deadline or in a marathon meeting.
She felt her hopes dashed when Sonya’s voicemail came on, her voice at once chipper and confident.
“Hi, Son – It’s me. Bad, bad day. Actually might have been the worst one ever,” Darcy said, her voice unrecognizable to herself as it sounded dry and senior-like. “Call me back ASAP. If I don’t answer, it’s because I have decided to drown myself in the bath-tub in whiskey and rum and whatever else I have left from my New Years Party. Bye.”
She waited for a quick call back from Sonya, but nothing came. She added another mental X to the quality of her bad day.
***
It was close to 6 pm when she decided to bite the bullet and take the dog for a walk. The idea of being in sunlight and outdoors, not to mention in the presence of other people, made her feel like she was going to throw up, but she knew she had to take her little lady out. It had been nearly six hours of literal moping around the apartment, in between crying bouts and wall punching. Maybe clearing her head and getting fresh air was not such a bad idea.
They circled the block a few times, each lap picking up more and more momentum. The poor little dog was clearly exhausted, her little legs trying to keep apace with Darcy’s long strides. The sidewalks were empty, much to Darcy’s contentment, but the sun was so bright she pulled her hoodie over her head to block it out, to no success.
Making the last lap around the block, she saw her apartment building come into view. A UPS truck sat idling out front, its black smoke pluming into the air. She would have glared at the driver had he or she actually been in the truck, but no one was there. She almost contemplated getting in the car and turning the ignition off, throwing the keys into the rear somewhere, but she didn’t have the energy to exert anything more than moving her legs.
Once back within the safe confines of her apartment building, she pressed the up button on the elevator, waiting for her ride, when the doors suddenly opened and the UPS delivery man stepped out, startled at someone being so close to the open doors.
“Oh, sorry,” the man said, his voice clearly apologetic. “I didn’t see you.”
He was young, her age probably. She wondered why someone that age would willingly be a delivery person. Did he just work to support his drug habit? He was really skinny, she thought. Or was he so loaded that he just needed to do something to earn some cred to his more moderately succe
ssful friends? She did notice his stark blue eyes, however. And she felt them staring at her as she didn’t make any motion to move away from blocking the elevator doors.
“How could you have seen me? You were on the elevator”, she replied rudely, catching herself. He looked visibly hurt.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I just had the more horrible day and you were the first live person that I’ve run into.”
Why am I apologizing, she thought.
“It’s ok, I have days like that all the time,” he replied, smiling back. His teeth were perfectly straight and white. Non-smoker or coffee drinker there, she thought. “My job isn’t exactly blue collar.”
“At least you have one,” she muttered, stepping onto the elevator. She pressed the button to close the elevator door before seeing him trying to continue the conversation.
Upon getting to her apartment door, she saw a large brown manila envelope taped to her door. Surprised that she actually received a package of some kind, from UPS precisely, she tore the envelope off the door and walked into the apartment.
Kicking off her shoes and throwing her heavily linted blue sweater on the floor, she sat on the small chair by the kitchen table. She examined the envelope, which had her name spelled out in bright, capital letters. In the top corner of the envelope she noticed her Property Management company’s addresses imprinted neatly.
Figuring it must be some sort of communication on the importance of diverting her waste or keeping the noises down in the apartment building after 11 pm, she tore open the envelope and scanned over the letter.
The first warning was that the letter was personally addressed to her as the tenant. These letters she received were usually always pretty generic. She felt her back, and guard, rise. She continued to read the letter, her eyes growing larger and larger with every word. It read: