"Saint Nate." He scoffs. "Please. If I hear anyone else in this goddamn network singing his praises, I will throw up."
"What is the point of this? I'm doing my job very well, and you know that." Another deep breath. I can't lose my shit, no matter how much I want to.
"Guess what? Very well isn't enough."
"I got us on the late-night show. That is a million times more important."
"I decide what's important, not you. And when I ask you to cooperate, you cooperate."
"You consider backstabbing cooperation?"
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough. If you're not willing to cooperate, I will let you go."
"You will let me go," I repeat blankly.
"Yes, and I'll make sure you don't get another job in this network, no matter how many phone calls Saint Nate makes for you."
"I see." Well, that makes my path very clear.
"You do?" He clasps his hands, his nasty smile making an appearance for the first time today.
"Yes. I quit." I am not going to come to work every day with this slimy man breathing down my neck, asking me to do things after which I could never look at myself in the mirror, just because he isn't capable of hard and honest work. No more. I am worth more than this. There have to be more options than this.
His smile freezes on his face. "What?"
"I quit."
***
You never know how dispensable you are until faced with the fact. One hour later, as I walk out of the studio building, all my belongings in a box, HR termination contract on top, the enormity of my decision hits me, and my knees nearly buckle from the weight. I barely make it to my car, and once I climb in, I'm in a stupor. What have I done? I blink back tears, trying not to panic, but panic I do. My chest feels so tight and my eyes sting so badly, I can almost feel a panic attack coming. Or a stroke. I'm about to research stroke symptoms before I realize I'm in the garage of the building. No reception or Internet here.
This deep breath technique doesn't work jack shit when you're panicking. Could I have handled this better? Maybe.
Jesus, what have I done?
The right thing. I did the right thing. It's just that doing the right thing sometimes has the habit of biting me back with a vengeance. Almost unconsciously, I touch the marks on my back.
Okay, this is obviously not how I pictured my career change happening. Ideally I would have already had a job lined up before quitting this one because I have a mortgage to pay. My best skill is that I get shit done, and I don't feel I'm too good for any job. Hopefully, that will be enough for my unemployment to be short.
***
"You have the biggest balls ever," Penny exclaims. When I arrived at the apartment, I realized I'd work myself into a frenzy if I spent too much time alone with my thoughts. On a whim, I asked Penny if she could have lunch with me. So now she's wolfing down a shawarma, sitting on the swing on the balcony, while I rid my flowers of dry bits. I can't eat. I feel a little faint just at the smell of shawarma.
"Or I'm stupid."
"No, you're not. You're loyal to a fault. That's very rare. You have no idea how many back stabbings I see on a daily basis, and it usually happens over petty things, not a job."
"It was just all too much, and I acted impulsively."
"If you ask me, this was a long time coming. You weren't happy there."
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I snap a dry bit with a little too much gusto. "Well, the point of a job isn't to be happy, but to receive a pay-check. Have some stability. I wanted to transition out of TV, but I wanted to have a plan for it."
"You can't plan everything."
"That coming from the person who wakes up at five o'clock every morning to run? You're the master planner."
"Yeah, and it's zero fun. Look at this as an opportunity to figure out your next steps without a slimeball breathing down your neck. Use it. Also, you have a fine man to fill all those spare hours with."
I swallow hard at the thought of Blake, unsure how he'll take the news of my unemployment status, especially because it will be accompanied by a huge request. I'm going to ask him if I could live here a while longer than I intended.
My building developer informed me that they're handing over the keys soon...and I can't afford my mortgage anymore. Renting it out so I can finance the mortgage until I get a job is my only option. Staying here free would be a big help. Ugh...I already feel like a leper about it, and I haven't even asked Blake yet.
"Have to go. Sorry I can't stay longer," Penny says.
"Thanks for coming."
"Hey, you're here early!" Blake exclaims, appearing out on the balcony, scaring us both half to death. He and Penny met a few Saturdays back when she dropped by for breakfast. "Hi, Penny."