Menopause Got Me Fired From My Son's Company

"The company is currently optimizing our workforce, and you're the first to go." Fiona Lewis, the HR manager, slammed the termination notice down in front of me. "Sign it, Theresa Allen. Don't make this ugly for everyone."

I glanced at the termination notice. The reason given for my dismissal was, "Age does not meet team-building requirements."

None of my annual or performance bonuses were included in my severance pay. All I got was three thousand dollars, the amount I was owed for this month's work.

There was no mention of any other severance compensation.

"I'm not signing this," I said while pushing the document back towards Fiona. "Per the employment contract I signed, since this is a no-fault termination, I should receive three months of salary as severance pay.

"Besides, my design drafts have passed the preliminary review. You don't have a valid reason to terminate my employment at a time like this."

Fiona snorted in contempt. "Hey, old lady, do you seriously think you're that much of a big deal? The company is about to enforce the hustle culture for all our employees. You're 52 years old. What if you end up dying on the job?"

She looked me up and down before resting her gaze on my abdomen. "Besides, at your age, you've already gone through menopause, right?"

That made me scoff. It was my first time hearing that being menopausal was a cause for termination.

"Does a designer use her brains or her womb to do the work? Is this your so-called optimization standard?"

I turned to the side and pointed at someone on the other side of the glass door.

Sasha Johnson was sitting at her desk with her legs crossed, stuffing popcorn into her mouth. She had earphones on as she binge-watched a TV show on her phone, her body shaking as she giggled.

It had been three hours since she last did anything on the design software that was open on her computer.

I looked Fiona in the eye and said, "Sasha joined three months before me. She spends all her time watching shows on her phone. Six months into the job, and she still can't tell the different layers of a design file apart. Her line compositions are still a complete mess.

"The last time she designed something, the client rejected it three times, and the company had to pay over a million dollars in compensation. But just because she's pregnant, she's not included in the company's layoffs? But I am?"

"You don't know anything!" Fiona rolled her eyes and looked at me as if I were a fool. "Sasha is pregnant with Mr. Grady's child!"

My mind went blank.

Mr. Grady? Was she talking about Jonathan Grady—that son of mine who swore he'd never have a kid and refused to go on any blind dates?

Had he knocked up one of his employees?

"Are you talking about Jonathan Grady?" I asked.

Fiona's eyes widened in shock. "How dare you address Mr. Grady like that!"

She leaned in smugly and added, "Sasha is the future Mrs. Grady! The money the company saves by not paying your salary will be enough for us to buy her prenatal supplements so the baby is healthy. What makes you think an old hag like you, who still has to work to earn a living, can compare to her?"

I froze. Through the glass wall, Sasha slowly lifted her head and flashed me a taunting smile. She stroked her flat belly and made a shushing motion.

Fiona smiled and nodded, lowering her voice as she continued to berate me.

"If you're smart, you'd get the hell out of here now. Don't wait until I call security to kick you out. If things blow up, your savings won't even cover the amount you have to pay to the company for disrupting the workplace!"

I took a deep breath.

So this was what was happening with the company, huh?

Jonathan had only been out of the country for three months on a business expansion trip, but the company was already being run to the ground.