The Box

I was only 4 minutes late. Any other time it wouldn’t have caused issue in my mind; however, when I came into work and saw all my personal belongings in a box on my desk, those 4 minutes seems like the proverbial nail in my coffin.

I checked around my cubicle and didn’t see anything that was my own. Everything was stripped, placed, and packaged in a copy paper box. All my pictures of my kids, my desk toys from the on-line geek store ... everything. Even the newspaper clippings were taken off my cloth-covered, soft foam walls, and placed on top of my stuff, like they were the after thought.

I rolled out my chair from under my L-shaped desk and sat down. A nervous, unsettling feeling started to grow inside me, like it was focusing on my stomach. Using my feet, I twirled slowly, feeling my anxiety get worse with each second that passed. The chair made the same creaking noise it’s had been making whenever I twirled in it for the past 8 years. Everything looked so sterile, like they had erased any morsel to prove I worked there, right down to the pen marks in my desktop.

There wasn’t even an envelope to say what happened. If a person gets fired or laid off, there is always a note or slip. There wasn’t even a piece of scrap paper or Post-it note there.

All that sat on my desk was an unmarked box.

The entire office area was quiet, too quiet actually. I looked at the clock on my phone. The LCD display showed 9:09 AM. Did I miss a company meeting?

Walking out of my cubicle, I headed towards the boardroom where all company meetings were held. Every office I passed was empty, but not barren like my cubicle. The hallway felt off for some reason, like I was walking in a vacuum. As I turned the corner, I ducked my head into the kitchen. No one was in there congregating around the snack boxes or coffee machine. It was almost like a ghost town. The nervous feeling in my stomach now had all the makings of a bleeding ulcer. I looked at the door next to the kitchen; it was closed. There was a company meeting in progress.

I sat in a chair in the kitchen and stared at the coffee maker. I really wanted a cup, but it was like something inside me was prohibiting me from doing so. It was probably the nervous feeling. My body was probably telling me I would get violently ill if I drank any.

The clock on the wall had its big hand on the 4 and little hand between the 9 and 10. It felt later for some reason.

The door to the boardroom opened and my co-workers start filing out one by one, each one passing by me sitting all alone in the kitchen. They all had this sullen look on their face. Not a one even acknowledged that I was sitting right there. I’ve seen that before in past board meetings when an employee gets fired. No one wants to look at the one who got the ax in the eye.

When I was sure that no one was left, I got out of the ancient chrome and plastic chair and padded softly into the boardroom.

There was no one left. I saw a piece of paper on the giant mahogany table that looked like a company memo that had my name in the subject. Not wanting to read the bad news, I quietly backed out of the room.

Walking back quickly down the hall, I ignored the people in their offices. It was a pretty easy task since I noticed they were ignoring me as well.

Once back at my desk, I saw my box was gone.

Full-blown panic was now in my gut. What kind of cowards did I work for if they are getting rid of me and don’t have the guts to tell me?

Voices were emanating from my department head’s office. He was there as well as my boss in one chair and the head of human resources standing next to her. I figured this was the moment, the point in which they were going to call me in and tell me I was no longer employed.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the doorway. No one looked up at me. It was becoming epidemic. They just continued talking.

“Did you pack her things?” he asked my boss.

“Yeah. I have the box in your office, Deb.” Indicating the HR person. She sounded like her answers were strained.

“It’s ok,” Deb said to my boss, trying to comfort her. “I know it wasn’t an easy task, but I know her family will appreciate it.”

Shocked circulated throughout my being. Why was my family being involved?

Our department head shifted uneasily in his chair as he kept looking at what appeared to be the department memo about me. His face looked pale and distraught, like it was something he didn’t want to read.

“It’s such a tragedy,” he said softly, “we were all just talking last week about how much fun the company meeting in New York was and how she did well at her presentation and now … this. You just never know when these things will happen. I mean, my god, she was just here last Friday.”

What things?

“I know, Brian, “ Deb said in a soothing tone. “I know you took it the worst getting the phone call from her husband. At least she probably felt nothing when it happened. No suffering, just impact and that’s it.”

Oh god, what are they talking about? My boss lifted her head. There were tears in her eyes.

“She had two little kids! What the hell are they going to do without their mother now? That idiot blew a stop sign because he was texting and killed her. How can anyone justify this? She was on her way here and she never made it.”

I backed away from the conversation and looked back at my desk, my empty desk. I walked over to the chair and stood staring at it. One of my co-workers walked by me outwardly shivered.

“Brrr. Does someone have the A/C on or something? It’s freezing over here.”

I leaned, or at least I thought I was leaning, against my desk and looked at the office where the three sat and talked.

Guess this explains why there wasn’t an envelope waiting for me.