Page 18 of The New Year's Party
“Sure, no problem,” said Doug, heading back toward her husband’s office. He could hear John on the phone inside and waited until there was silence before tapping his knuckles on the door. “John?”
“Come in.”
Doug closed the door behind him. The office was small, stuffy. If it was Doug’s office, he’d sure as hell invest in a better chair. Goddamn John was a cheapskate.
“Your lovely wife said you wanted to talk to me? Oh, I brought doughnuts. They’re—” He jerked his thumb at the door behind him. “Want me to get you one? I was just thinking, last day of the year, holiday spirit—”
“No, thank you, Doug, no doughnuts for me today.”
Doug thumped his stomach with both hands. “Ah, I get it, getting a jump start on those New Year’s resolutions, am I right?”
John made a pained smile. “Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” Doug planted his feet and crossed his arms, like he was ready for anything. Fear sold gutters, but confidence bought raises, and he had been angling for one. Dropping little comments about how naturally selling gutters came to him, how much he believed in the EdgeTech gutter system, how he could see himself doing this long-term, how it was practically a public service.
Suddenly he realized what this would be about. The promotion. Of course—end of the year—a nice raise effective the first day of 2020; he’d go from junior sales associate to sales associate. It came not only with a small increase in base salary, but a bump in commission level. He’d tell Hellie—he’d tell them all tonight—and they’d toast the New Year and maybe he would see that spark of trusting light come back into Hellie’s eyes—
“I have to let you go.”
John said the words, but they were like slow-motion bullets zooming toward Doug.
I.
Have to.
Let you.
Go.
Boom, into his chest, word by word, they hit.
Time stopped.
All of a sudden Doug’s old ear injury roared to life. A buzzy, high-pitched squeal in his right ear. He poked a finger in and swiveled.
“What?”
“Let you go,” John repeated.
Doug’s cheeks flooded with heat. It was like a million déjà vus in an avalanche, burying him before he could catch his breath. It was a dozen managers saying,You’refired.
We caught you taking the petty cash.
You no-call no-showed.
Your references were fake.And on and on.
“I didn’tdoanything, man!” said Doug. Was he shouting? The ringing in his ear made it hard to tell.
John raised a sheaf of papers. “This came through this morning. Doug, you have a conviction for assault in Louisiana. Theft in Kentucky. Possession with intent to sell in this very county. You’re a—a—” John looked flustered “—a walking liability!”
“I didn’t sign any background check release,” said Doug. He could deny. Deny all day. There had to be more Doug Pflugers in this goddamn country.
“We didn’t background check you,” said John. His cheeks were pink, but his voice remained calm. “We asked you in good faith if you had a clean record, and you said yes.”
Doug pointed to the papers. “Where did you get that?”
“Are you denying it?”
