About a Girl Read Free Page A

shoes. I stared at an Oxford University mug sitting right on the edge of her desk and fought the urge to move it out of harm’s way. Who went to Oxford and then ended up doing HR for an advertising company?
    ‘As you’ll see, we’ve put together a very fair redundancy package,’ Raquel continued, switching gears so fast I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. She pushed a stiff cardboard envelope across the desk towards me and tapped it twice. ‘Given the circumstances, we understand if you would like to leave immediately. I can forward your personal effects. If you could just leave your phone and security pass with me, I’ll take care of all of that.’
    I looked down at the envelope and then back up at Satan’s minion.
    ‘I’m afraid I’m not following,’ I said as politely as possible. ‘Redundancy package?’
    ‘The company no longer has a position available for you.’ Raquel scratched her nose delicately. I resisted the urge to slap it. Only just. ‘At all.’
    ‘So when you say the creative director role has been restructured out of the business …’ I took a deep breath and tried very hard not to vomit. ‘What you are actually saying is that I have been restructured out of the business?’
    ‘The creative director role,’ she repeated with a nod, ‘is no longer viable in the current business plan. You are the creative director.’
    ‘But I haven’t even started the job. How can I have been restructured out of it?’ I was aware that my voice was starting to get uncomfortably high. I was even more aware of the fact that I was going to cry. I blinked twice and stared hard at the Oxford mug, trying to regain my composure.
    ‘I understand you are bound to have some questions.’ Raquel’s shark eyes had already glazed over. ‘Perhaps you’d like to schedule some time to go over them on the phone tomorrow.’
    ‘Or perhaps I’d like you to stop being a dick and tell me why I’m being fired?’ I shouted.
    There was no stopping the tears. Between the blisters on my heels and my blind rage, there was nothing I could do to stem the sobbing. It was neither ladylike nor professional, but apparently I no longer had a profession, so who gave a toss whether or not I was being ladylike?
    ‘Perhaps you could explain to me why I’m being “let go” when you’re supposed to be promoting me? Perhaps you could explain to me who exactly is going to lead the creative team? Perhaps you could tell me who is going to win all of your business and lead all of your campaigns and who is going to work on New Year’s Eve so you don’t lose an account for a toilet cleaner?’ I grabbed the cardboard envelope and bashed it against the desk to punctuate my every word before flinging it across the room. ‘ And it was crappy toilet cleaner.’
    ‘No one is disputing your commitment to the job,’ Raquel said without even flinching. ‘And we will be very happy to give you a reference when you find a new situation.’
    ‘A new situation?’ There was a chance I was screeching. ‘This isn’t Downton fucking Abbey . I’m not a scullery maid. I’m the best creative you have here and you know it. Where’s Michael? Where is bloody Michael?’
    Michael was my boss. Michael was a cock. When Michael spilled a glass of wine down my top at the Christmas party every year, I laughed it off. When Michael referred to me and my breasts as ‘his three favourite employees’ in front of a new client last summer, I let it go. When Michael tried to cop a feel under the pretence of performing the Heimlich manoeuvre when I had hiccups every time I had hiccups for seven years , I kept my mouth shut. And now where was he?
    ‘Mr Donovan isn’t in the office this morning,’ Raquel replied, actually sounding bored. ‘I do understand you’re upset, but really, this isn’t a personal issue. It’s just a matter of corporate restructuring.’
    ‘Well, I think you need to restructure your face,’ I yelled. Not my best comeback