Fired from work

​(Sammy)

​There’s that moment when nothing makes sense—sitting in a conference room full of strangers talking nonstop while your mind wanders to random things, like counting the number of bald men in the room.

​Of course, that usually only happened when my boss was a woman who wore such heavy makeup and red lipstick that she looked like she was running a two-shift-a-day clown show.

​I sat back lazily and sighed inwardly. I was wearing tinted spectacles, which gave me the advantage of being able to close my eyes. I drifted off, imagining my soft, comfortable bed with its fresh linens and the fluffy pillows I loved more than anything.

​I was supposed to be in an important shareholders' meeting, listening to a board of directors offer their views. I always came prepared for these; my specs shielded me from unnecessary trouble and the need to look at all those weird people—especially our boss, who thought she was the diva of the corporation.

​“Our company is the best. Our clients depend on us for nothing but excellence... Gentlemen, we need a strategy to gain more ground and stay on top.”

​I sat there, oblivious to what was being said. I could hear an angry voice shouting my name, but I felt like shifting in my sleep. I threw my left leg to the side, and I heard murmurs rising. I muttered something about "old fools needing to get a life" and felt my head drop until it hit something solid.

​Ouch.

​I reached out blindly and grabbed the nearest thing to lean on. It was the Vice President’s hand—meaty and somehow bony at the same time. I didn’t care; I just muttered again under my breath. I thought I had it all under control until a hand slammed hard on the table right next to my head.

​I jumped, rising to my feet so abruptly I nearly fell. I grabbed the back of the Vice President's chair to steady myself and looked around, praying it was all a dream.

​“Oh no.”

​If only being in the meeting were the dream and I was actually back home in bed. But as my blurry eyes adjusted, my knees weakened. I wasn't in bed. I was definitely in the meeting, and every shareholder was staring at me like I was an alien from Mars. I quickly smoothed out my red floral dress and cleared my throat, my mind racing for an excuse.

​“I... well... wow... you look so pretty today, Madam CEO,” I said with a fake, stammering laugh.

​The CEO looked at me like a mean witch. Her eyes were glowing a crimson red, making me back away unconsciously.

​“What is this, Miss Morgan? Sleeping at work? In the middle of an important meeting?” my boss yelled through gritted teeth. Judging by her tone, I knew I was already fired.

​“Miss... I mean, Mrs. Amelia... I wasn't sleeping. I was... napping.”

​Oh gosh. Of all the things my brain could come up with, it chose "napping." Sleeping and napping were the same thing. I swallowed hard, fiddling with my hands as they turned cold. Everyone knew Amelia Hawkins was a mean woman. She never smiled; she was like a rock fated to be still. As she glared at me in disdain, I realized I was in deep trouble.

​“I will not have you insult my company!” she yelled, finally letting loose. “I forgave you once for being late for your presentation. You practically kidnapped our most important business partner, causing the company losses, and now you’re sleeping in my meeting with our primary shareholders!”

​She listed my "felonies" one by one. I’d only been there two months, and I was convinced she only hated me because I was better at her job than she was.

​“T...that’s not it—”

​“You are fired! Get out of my company!” she cut me off.

​How rude, I thought, rolling my eyes.

​“You can’t do this. You need me. I’m your best worker,” I said, reminding her that despite what she thought of me, I actually got things done.

​“Best worker? Ha!” Amelia mocked. She was hell-bent on humiliating me. Her voice, already an annoying high-pitched squeak, was now reaching a glass-shattering volume. “You are nothing but a pain in the neck. You are worthless!”

​I saw the men in the room nodding in agreement, and my blood began to boil. She had no right to talk to me like a slave. Samantha Morgan was no one’s puppet. At twenty-four, I was beautiful and intelligent, while she was just a bitter divorcee.

​“If I’m worthless, so are you, Amelia. Just look at you. Your dress is ugly,” I snapped. I watched her expression shift and knew I’d hit a nerve. “I actually feel pity for you. No wonder your husband left. For a CEO, your fashion sense is horrible, that heavy makeup is a disaster, and your hairstyle belongs in the eighties.”

​The room went silent, save for a few people muffling their laughter. Amelia was sweating from embarrassment. I smirked, slammed my laptop shut, and tucked it under my arm.

​“How dare you insult me, you pathetic, low-class girl! You don’t even deserve to lick my shoes—”

​“I quit, you funny clown!” I shouted before she could finish.

​I might not have been rich, and I didn't have a mansion, but I had self-respect. I was going to walk out with my dignity intact.

​“Out! You’re fired!” she screamed after me as I marched elegantly toward the door.

​I went straight to my office to pack. It was sweltering, and I desperately needed a cold drink, but first, I needed a ride. I pulled out my phone to call the person who had found me this "darn job" in the first place.

​“Hey Charlie... yeah, your sister got fired for the fifth time. Pick me up ASAP.”

​I sent the voicemail knowing my twin brother was busy. He was successful, unlike me, and while he loved me, he was definitely going to scold me for ruining his hard work. I followed up the message with a long paragraph explaining exactly why this wasn't my fault.

​“Just great,” I muttered, shoving my belongings into boxes. I wanted to be gone before the clown sent security to throw me out.