Page 1 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

MACKENZIE

Pro tip: if you're about to get fired, don't wear your favorite red power suit. The dry cleaning bill from stress-sweating through Italian wool is no joke.

"Ms. Gallo, the board appreciates your twenty years of service to Innovatech..."

I tune out the HR drone and focus on the sad desk plant I've kept alive for fifteen years. Longer than my marriage lasted. Speaking of things that are dead, my career is currently being eulogized by someone who started working here when I was already a Director of Innovation Strategy.

"...restructuring after the acquisition..."

The acquisition. Right. Because apparently two decades of successfully integrating tech startups wasn't enough to save me from Drake Enterprises' corporate chopping block. The same Drake Enterprises run by Alexander Drake, Seattle's most eligible tech bachelor—if you're into emotionally unavailable workaholics with perfect hair and a reputation for destroying companies faster than I destroy a plate of my nonna's cannoli.

"...security will escort you out..."

"Sorry, what?" I snap back to attention. "It's my birthday."

Karen from HR blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"It's my forty-second birthday. Today. You're firing me on my birthday." I laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a strangled espresso machine. "That's... that's actually impressive timing."

She shifts in her seat, clearing her throat. "We weren't aware?—"

"Obviously." I stand up, smoothing down my suit. Twenty years in tech has taught me one thing: never let them see you sweat. Or cry. Or show any human emotion that might make you seem "too emotional" for leadership. "I assume I can pack up my things?"

Two security guards hover in the doorway like particularly buff bookends. Because clearly, a five-foot-six Italian woman in Louboutins is a major security threat.

"Of course." Karen hands me a cardboard box. "You have thirty minutes."

Great. Three decades of education, twenty years of experience, and now I get to play Beat the Clock with my office supplies. At least I wore the shoes that make my calves look amazing. If I'm going down, I'm going down stylish.

"Hey, Mac!" Tony from Engineering pokes his head in. "You coming to the charity gala tonight? The whole team's..." He trails off, taking in the security guards and the box. "Oh."

"Sorry, Tony. Looks like my invitation just got lost in the restructuring." I start dropping photos into the box. Me with my team at our last successful launch. Me with my sisters at the Women in Tech awards. Me with my ex-husband at our wedding.

Actually, that one can stay here.

"That's messed up," Tony mutters. "After everything you've done for this company?—"

"It's fine." It's not fine. Nothing about this is fine. "Corporate evolution, right? Survival of the fittest and all that jazz.”

I grab my emergency tiramisu from the mini-fridge—thank God I didn't inhale it yesterday—and my "World's Okayest Boss" mug that my team gave me last Christmas. Was everyone else in on this? Did they all know I was getting axed?

My phone buzzes. A social media notification. Because apparently, the universe thinks my day isn't painful enough.

@TechCrunch: Breaking: Drake Enterprises completes hostile takeover of Innovatech. CEO Alexander Drake promises "streamlined integration" of assets.

Assets. That's corporate speak for "people whose lives we're about to wreck."

I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. But you know what? I'm forty-two, unemployed, and running on spite and caffeine.

Pulling up the anonymous corporate social account I created six months ago—one with the convenient tagline of “Documenting Silicon Valley's biggest dickheads,” I tap out a new post:

@MizzByteMyAlgos: What do you call a tech CEO who thinks "corporate culture" is something you get from a Silicon Valley yogurt shop? @AlexanderDrake Everything wrong with tech bros, wrapped in a overpriced suit. #CorporateKiller #TechBro

"Ms. Gallo?" Guard One gestures to his watch.

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