Samaera 'Sam' Mathieson
"You're fired."
"Wait. What?"Did I hear that right?
Ramona repeats herself with robotic vigor. "You're fired!"
My pen slips from my fingers and lands on my desk. I mistakenly thought I was safe since she hadn't come in here first. "I'm fired?"
"Yes." Arms cross under her chest to protect her from my rage, she dares me to be stupid and ask again what I clearly heard correctly both times she said it.
I like Ramona. She's a good person. Reaching for the box she brought, I begin clearing my personal items from my desk. Arguing and whining won't help. She is only the messenger. It wasn't her call.
"Budget cuts." She states flatly to my unasked question. "Sales are down for the third straight quarter."
"Hmm," I respond. I don't envy her the difficult task of letting people go. She and I knew the day was coming, but still, it is shocking to be fired. "Well, I'm sorry. I enjoyed my job. I liked working with you. You were a good boss."
"Thanks, Sam." She looks away with tears threatening. "I'm going to miss your organizational skills."
I smile sympathetically. "I've been color-coding your files for you."
"You're taking it better than the others. Thank you."
I reach for my candy jar of peppermints. "How many others are there?"
"One hundred and fourteen. I've been firing people all day."
"Oh my gosh! I'm sorry you had to be the one to tell them, Mona. I know that was difficult for you."
She nods, "Worse day here I've ever had."
I fold the top of the box closed as she pulls off a strip of packaging tape. "You know what we should do?"
"Cry ourselves to sleep tonight?"
I will, but she shouldn't. The cowards in the executive suite shit on her. "We should go down to T. & A. Tavern and see if we can win the karaoke cash prize."
"Are you serious?" She stares at me in disbelief.
"Oh, absolutely! Come on. Don't make me go home alone to dwell on my misfortune."
Forty minutes later, my box of meaningless office paraphernalia is checked into the coat room at T. & A. Tavern. Locking arms, Ramona and I head to the back of the bar, where a makeshift stage is set up with a microphone, teleprompter, and karaoke machine.
A sign on the stage reads, The Battle begins at 9PM. To enter, sign up here (use a nickname) with your song choice.
We sign up, then thread our way to the front of the bar to buy our liquid courage, but the emcee calls, "Mona Lisa, you're up first."
Panic fills Mona's wide eyes for just a moment. "Oh my gosh!"
Giving her a big encouraging squeeze, "You got this, girl! No worries. Get your ass up there and blow this place up."
She cracks up laughing. "Where did that come from?"
"Four older brothers." I laugh too. "Didn't you know my middle name is Fearless? Growing up the youngest Mathieson in rural Alabama, you learn life is too short to be scared. You have to charge headlong after your dreams."
She walks up on the stage, and I position myself directly in front of her offering friendship support to give her courage. She takes the microphone and clears her throat. Then flinches at the volume of the speakers. Everyone laughs, but the buzz quickly dies down. With the first notes, she informs the audience, "This is for the one hundred and fifteen people I fired today."
An audible "What the hell?" rings out over the crowd. Then she starts to sing "Apology" by One Republic, and her voice is lovely, though it trembles and breaks with her nerves in the beginning. All and all, though, she does a fantastic job, and the crowd claps for her.
