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The day began with a series of incidents, each either
surreal or remarkable. James should have understood
they were ominous portents, but that kind of thing is
much easier to do in retrospect.
The first of them started when Hamlet lumbered into
their office clutching a copy of Cosmopolitan borrowed,
it became apparent, from Kath. She was late, so he left
it on her desk. Exactly what he had wanted to read was
a mystery, but James knew better than to ask. He noticed
the word 'orgasm' on the cover, which might be significant.
Hamlet lowered himself into their spare chair just
was Kath arrived, clutching a box of donuts and three
paper cups of coffee. This, too, was unusual. Tall,
slim and disciplined, she rarely ate sugar. Hamlet looked
at the box and licked his lower lip. He was a man with
no such qualms. James raised an eyebrow of admonishment
in Kath's direction.
"Don't look at me like that!" she warned
him. "We need to do some comfort eating. I'm sick
of all this negativity."
"Man, ain't that the truth," muttered Hamlet,
helping himself to coffee. "Brought your magazine
back," he told her, nodding towards it. "I
was clearing my desk."
"Clearing your desk? Why?"
He took a bite of donut, looked back at her, and shrugged.
"Come on Hamlet," James coaxed. "What
do you know?"
"I don't know nothing, Man." He lowered his
voice. "Just make sure your personal stuff is boxed
up."
"Oh, don't be so?"
Kath began to speak but Doberman's voice cut her off.
By the sound of it he had just arrived in the office.
The reception desk was 40 feet from their door but Doberman
was so loud they heard every word. He was roaring with
rage. All three of them peeked to see what was happening.
"I don't fucking believe it," he yelled,
taking his coat off and throwing it in the closet. Some
girl gave my fucking car away. Get the Legal department
in my office now!"
"Oh no," said a small voice in James' head.
"Oh no." The conviction, groundless but certain,
that Sue was involved, had seized him and wouldn't let
go.
The surprises kept on coming. Hamlet retreated into
the office and peered at James' screen. "Looks
like you got an email," he called.
Unsteadily James returned to his desk. A single unread
message was highlighted in bold in his mailbox. The
subject read: ALL HANDS MEETING - 9:30AM.
"Thought so," said Hamlet, glancing at his
watch. They had ten minutes.
Casually he leaned over to reach the mouse on James'
desk. He opened a search engine on the web and typed
in a query. It consisted simply of the name of their
firm followed by the words "press release".
"What are you doing?" Kath asked, but James
had already guessed.
"He's finding out what the meeting's about."
James had a feeling that Hamlet had been in this kind
of situation before.
A moment later they were reading the bad news. It was
incredible that journalists should be notified that
the firm was closing before the employees were told,
but the words were there, clear and bold before their
eyes. James was dimly aware of telephones around the
office beginning to ring.
The meeting itself was anticlimactic. Maggie, the young
receptionist, sat with them, crying. Kath held her hand.
They still had not furnished the room and now they never
would.
They were there for only a few minutes. They were told
to take their possessions, that the firm would pay severance
of one month, that their health insurance would expire
at the end of the month, and that the locks were being
changed. Doberman thanked them all, and promptly left.
As he did so, applause broke out. James felt strangely
inclined to join it. He didn't share any admiration
for Doberman's energy or vision. He was just grateful
that the misery was over.
Back in the office he stood alone for a moment. He
had expected the meltdown to be more dramatic. It was
hard to accept that time was now his own. Unceremoniously
he packed a couple of books and photographs into his
briefcase and stole some software. It was the work of
a moment to delete his personal emails. The rest he
just left, even the work on his desk and a spreadsheet,
still open, that no longer needed updating. Fuck it.
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