Page 15 of The Pushy Pixies Are Going Down
“You don’t start till nine.”
“I know, but I have to go quit my job. Alright, love you, bye!” I clicked the end key to the sound of their squawk of protest, the smirk still on my face.
Lyric had no idea that Miles had asked me to work for him, so they didn’t know why I’d be quitting. Ha. Take that, my know-it-all bestie.
Quickly, I sent the email that was waiting in mydrafts. With a pep in my step, I headed toward the office and took a deep breath for courage before I stepped inside.
Gracie, the woman who ran the phones, waved at me, already taking a call and setting up a time for one of us to go out and take care of what sounded like a pixie problem.
I held up my hand in greeting and pointed to the boss’s office. She nodded and waved me in, so I went over and knocked.
“Come in,” a deep voice called out.
So with one more breath for courage, I pushed my way into my boss’s office.
I’d worked for the man for over a decade, and he still always looked at me like I was the scum on his shoe.
I didn’t like him. At all. And the feeling was clearly mutual, even though he’d never had to reprimand me for a single thing the entire time I worked here.
Derrick Geddie had a balding head that he tried to cover up with wisps of hair brushed over—it looked horrible; why not just embrace the baldness?—and gray eyes that made me feel like I was under a microscope. He had thin lips, rosy cheeks, a wide nose, and a bit of a beer belly these days since he was usually stuck behind the desk. Back when I started working here, heused to come on jobs with us. I definitely wasn’t sad when he stopped.
If ever there was a person who made me uncomfortable in their presence, it was Derrick Geddie.
“What can I do you for, Mr. Montgomery?” Mr. Geddie asked, only half looking up from the mound of paperwork on his desk.
Since I didn’t really know what else to do, I jumped right into it. “I’d like to give my two-weeks’ notice.”
The man froze for a beat, then slowly lifted his head as he set the papers in his hands down. “You what?” His voice came out clipped, like he was holding back his anger, although from the way his face was turning red, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“I’m giving you my two-weeks’ notice.”
“You’re… quitting.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Still, I answered, “Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity you gave me when you hired me. I appreciate it, and I—”
“You really think you’ll be able to find someone else to hire you in this town, Winter?”
“I’ll be alright, but again, thank you for the oppor—”
“No one will hire you. You’re an ex-con, and if you think I’m going to give you a good recommendation, you’re sadly mistaken. You won’t be able to find another job.”
I’d always thought the man was an asshole, but this was a whole new level of ass-fuckery. I’d been nothing but exemplary at my job, and he was going to give me a bad recommendation? Are you freaking shitting me right now?
I knew I didn’t technically need it, seeing as Miles had already hired me, but still, it was the principle of the thing.
I straightened to my full height and stared at the angry man. “Why in the world wouldn’t you give me a good recommendation? I’ve been the hardest-working person on yourteam, and I’ve been here longer than anyone else. I’m loyal, I show up on time, I go above and beyond on every job, and you’ve never had a single complaint from a customer about me personally.” Maybe about the way things were done or that what we did didn’t take care of the issue, yes. But no one had ever complained about my behavior or professionalism.
“I’m fully aware of your qualities, which is why I refuse to accept your two-weeks’ notice. Go back to work.” He waved me off, as if saying I couldn’t quit was the end of the conversation. What the fuck was wrong with this man?
“I already wrote a resignation letter and sent it to your email.” I’d written it while eating breakfast, then sent it from the car. Luckily, I’d written a resignation letter years ago and saved it to my computer because I’d been dreaming of quitting this job since the moment I started working here. It’d felt like a stupid exercise back then, but I’d been upset about a job we’d done, and writing out my resignation, even knowing I couldn’t send it, had helped me work through my problems.
This morning, while I ate breakfast, I’d gone through and edited it to update it, then I drafted an email and sent it to Derrick Geddie right before I’d walked inside.
His jaw clenched. “Where the hell do you get off—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Geddie, but I quit. I’m happy to work the next two weeks so you have time to hire a replacement, but I won’t be returning after that.”
His face turned a terrifying shade of purple. If I didn’t know better, I’d think his head was about to explode. “Get out! Go home! You’re fired!”
