Bill’s desk was clean, nearly antiseptic, holding a stapler, a rolodex and a computer. He had always believed it represented his efficiency, and thus his value. That and his expertise with the Infamous system. By now, he was its resident expert. Surely that guaranteed job security.
He had recently seen others “let go” during the current downsizing, but he knew he was safe. Until he tried to log on to his computer:
LOG IN FAILED. SYSTEM DOWN.
Then Jim from HR rapped on the door, stuck his head in.
“Bill, can I see you in my office for a minute?"
“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but the company’s been downsizing for some time now…” the HR representative droned on. He stopped listening and stared at the curtain fluttering at the window.
After eighteen years, no retirement, no “golden parachute,” just a man saying something about “references” and “severance pay.” References? For what? At 58, who would hire him? He was alone; no children, his wife dead five years.
He began to listen again. Heard “… let you go,” and, at the word “go,” did just that – ran to the open window thirteen floors above a concrete sidewalk.