I guess they didn't consider me much of a threat when they fired me. No one called security, no one grabbed my arm and escorted me to the door. After the bad news I was allowed to stop at my desk and collect my pathetic belongings.
By the time I collected my dusty plant and weird stash of desktop items, the gossip had already spread. A small group of people (the ones I mistook for chums) had started to huddle together. Safety in numbers? Half of them gave me looks generally saved for death row inmates. Mournful, shaking their heads, false concern laced with obvious pity. And under it all was that look. The look of relief. Relief its me and not them. If this had been an episode of Law & Order, I'd be at the part where I lay my gun and badge on the desk.
Too bad my co-workers didn't have the balls to step up, speak up and stand up. If they had, perhaps I wouldn't be in this dire situation. Perhaps the railroad would happen to someone else. If the truth were spoken by more than one-- then undoubtedly the president would view that point blank bullet moment differently.
Instead, I had to make a condemned man's walk out to the parking lot. Hoping I looked brave but knowing I looked pathetic.
