Coral stood looking out from the third floor atrium at the luxuriant green grass in the courtyard outside. It was huge and perfect, with benches and statues scattered about.
She had just come from the library and was clutching the books in her hand. She realized that her clutch was very tight and she could feel beads of sweat breaking on her brow.
“I should be working here,” she thought, “That job should have been mine. Then I would have been here five years and I probably would not be in the pain that I am right now, physically and mentally.”
Coral thought back to that day over five years ago when she had left work early and came for an interview to work for the City. It was closer to home, better pay and the working conditions seemed ideal. She could walk in nice weather or sit on a bench and read.
Unfortunately the interview didn’t go as planned. She had passed the test hurdle but now she was in front of three people who were grilling her with the usual psycho babble that interviewers used. And then Coral made her big mistake, the unforgivable one. When asked where she saw herself several years from then she made the mistake of saying she hoped she retired from this job.
No, no, that’s the wrong answer! But it was out and could not be taken back. So Coral waited in vain for the call that never came. She eventually got her thanks but no thanks letter and knew it was over. Shortly thereafter she lost the job that she had so terribly loathed.
She didn’t work again for over a year. Unfortunately she didn’t spend that time writing the great American novel or getting into primo shape. Defeated.
Another job came along that she took with misgiving. She had never been in that type of environment before. It was physically demanding, and as time went on, her back pain became worse and worse. Yet she struggled on. She always gave the job over 100% each day, even when she came home in tears from the pain.
But somehow and somewhere she earned the enmity of her boss. To the best of her ability she could not come up with what she had done or said.
Long story short, she was fired, again. This time it was called a mutual termination of employment so they could pay her a paltry $4200 for her silence, for her agreeing not to sue for wrongful termination. After all, she lost her job a month after turning 60; she had a physical disability, her back. But she took the money and ran.
Her depression grew as she realized that her hopes of ever getting a decent job were pretty slim, especially living in this small of a town. How could she explain why she quit a job of three years in this terrible economy? What story would a prospective employer buy?
Her dream had been to go to Florida, but that looked out of sight now.
She wasn’t brave enough to risk what she had here. And here was really not great and would not last forever.
So she put her books on the floor and leaned over the railing. Half on half off she let her weight pull her and she fell face down to the floor three stories below. She never felt her death.
The End
No comments:
Post a Comment