Pounding the Pavement Read Free

“acquisition” was no longer a word that fit in our company lexicon.
    At one point there was a calm, which there always is. And then a ripple of excitement. The office was abuzz with the sort of breathless anticipation we hadn’t felt in months. And the word on everyone’s fevered lips was “layoffs.”
    I arrived at the office that Monday morning some time around 11 a.m., much earlier than I usually managed to drag myself in. And still I had to wait another hour before my boss, Gracie—or Princess Grace, as we took to calling her behind her back—came prancing in, two large Henri Bendel shopping bags strapped to her shoulders. An early-morning trip to a tanning salon had left her cheeks glowing a fierce red. She didn’t say hi when she walked by (she never did), she merely breezed right into her office. This time, I followed her.
    “Oh, good, Sarah, you’re here,” she said, massaging her neck. “Could you call a messenger to take these bags back to my apartment? My back is killing me.”
    Princess’s blatant disregard of the cut in company expenditures was hardly surprising. As far as she was concerned, the rules never directly applied to
her
.
    “Actually, Gracie, we need to talk,” I said, taking my familiar seat on her office sofa. She gaped at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Annoyance? Indignation? Fear? With an exaggerated sigh, she crossed her legs and aimed her pointy-toed shoe at me like a dagger drawn from its sheath.
    “I’m listening.”
    I took a deep breath. “I heard a rumor that all the rest of the assistants are being let go today. Is it true?”
    If there was anything Gracie hated most, it was a direct question. So she avoided my eye and toyed with the collar of her candy pink cashmere turtleneck. “You know, I wasn’t supposed to tell you until this afternoon—”
    “Tell me what? That I’m fired?”
    She glared at me. Like it was my fault for putting her on the spot. “In a way … yes.”
    “When?”
    “Umm …” She fumbled on her desk for a hairpin. “End of the day?”
    “You mean, today?”
    “Well, actually, no.” She stuck the hairpin between her teeth. I watched with no small amount of irritation as she spent the next couple of moments wrapping her Nordic blonde hair into a tight little bun on top of her head. She finally sealed it with the hairpin and sighed again. “Officially, your last day was Friday.”
    Damn. I must have cut out early and missed the farewell party.
    “Do I get any severance?” I asked.
    She laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re serious? With what money?”
    Excellent point. I had almost forgotten we’d had to make do without coffee and toilet paper for the past couple of weeks.
    “Well, then, can I take my office chair?” I asked.
    Princess shrugged. “Why not? I don’t suppose it makes much difference.” She turned on her laptop, signaling the end of the conversation.
    “I’m also taking the halogen lamp next to my bullpen.”
    “Fine.”
    I excused myself from the room.
    “Oh, Sarah,” she called, as I was stepping out the door. “Don’t forget to call the messenger.”
    I turned back to glare at her.
    “Never mind,” she said sheepishly. “If you shoot me an e-mail with the phone number I can take care of it.”
    I smiled politely and continued on.
    Despite the exodus of former employees fleeing the building that morning, I did manage to shove the office chair and halogen lamp onto a crowded elevator and head downstairs. I needed a second run, however, to retrieve a metal filing cabinet and a small bookcase. And a third and fourth run to pick up the three empty copy-paper boxes I had stuffed with paper clips, staples, Sharpies, and other supplies. A helpful cabdriver found a way to cram it all into his backseat and insisted I join him up front. The entire ride uptown he ranted and raved about the terrible state of our country’s economy, the vicious trick America had played on her citizens.
    The cabbie