Page 4 of Her Juicy Cherry (Sweet Treats 2)

I stare at him, and will tears to my eyes.

“But Mr. Farmer, it’s not like that. I mean, I am interested in cardboard boxes, I am! It’s just that –”

“Just what?” he asks while mopping his face again.

“Well, it’s just that I’ve fallen into a rut at work,” I say in a feeble tone as tears course down my face. “I want to be more involved with the team, I swear. But I feel like I haven’t gotten any meaningful tasks in so long, and I feel so out of it. So I started developing all these bad habits like checking my personal email at work while using a work computer. I swear, I can do better.”

Kara bobs her head up and down from behind the cubicle wall in enthusiastic agreement. I stifle the urge to roll my eyes.

But Mr. Farmer is unmoved and he shakes his head regretfully.

“I’m sorry, Courtney, but that’s what I was actually coming over here to tell you. We’ve been planning on letting you go for a while now, and today’s the day. Again, if you were at least a hard worker, the story would be different. Please see HR on your way out.”

With that, he turns and lumbers away. Kara stares at me from over the grey cubicle wall.

“Oh my god, what are you going to do? Are you okay, Courtney?” she whispers.

I shrug and put on a nonchalant expression.

“This place is shitty. I’m glad I’m leaving. I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say irritably. The fact is that I’m a little miffed. This doesn’t come at a good time because rent’s due in a week, and I don’t have quite enough money in my bank account. My landlord’s not going to be happy.

“What are you going to do?” Kara whispers again, her blue eyes wide.

I shrug, and begin putting my personal effects into a cardboard box.

“I’ll figure something out. After all, I’m only twenty-five. Everyone gets fired once in their life, right? Well, this is my time. I’ll find another job, don’t worry.”

Kara nods, her face pale. But then I stop to look at her.

“Did you know management was watching our computers?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“No, I had no idea,” she says in a whisper. “I thought only we could see what’s on our computers.”

I mentally roll my eyes again. Of course, Kara would think that. She’s the one who didn’t even realize that companies have internal networks with shared databases. But still, I don’t get it.

“I mean, I know that employees can share files and access documents in a secure area. But I had no idea that management could actually track which websites we hit. That sounds creepy.”

The intern is no help. She merely shrugs her slim shoulders.

“Computers are scary,” is Kara’s unhelpful comment. “Maybe you could ask IT.”

Obviously, it’s too late for that. I heave the rest of my stuff into the cardboard box and stand up before pulling my coat on.

“Well, toodle-oo!” I say with fake cheer. “Keep yourself useful, okay? Here’s to recyclable cardboard!”

Kara has a wan smile on her face and waves.

“Bye Courtney,” she says in a small voice. “Keep in touch.”

I whirl around and stalk towards the exit with my back ramrod straight. Of course, I have no intention of keeping up with that nincompoop, and Praxel Puffin can rot in hell for all I care. But has the company been watching me all this time? It’s frightening because it calls to mind Big Brother. What else do they know about me?

A chill runs down my spine, even as I plunk my box into the trunk of my car. Technology is insidious, and if a company as idiotic as Praxel Puffin is watching me, then who else is? The American government? Russian spies?

I snort and turn back to the building. Of course not. Why would spies be interested in me? I know nothing top secret, after all. Plus, I still have to go to this exit interview with Human Resources, so I march indoors with my head held high. I’m going to get this over with, and then go home and plunk myself down on the couch for some much-needed me time.

2

Courtney

My fingers clench my Jetta’s steering wheel. The knuckles are white and I want to scream from frustration because the exit interview with HR was horrendous. I’d say that the lady who interviewed me, a Miss Hogshaw, was even more clueless than Kara. She couldn’t find her special pencil. Then she couldn’t find her lucky paperclip. Why she needed a paperclip, much less a lucky one, I have no idea. But I waited patiently until it was over, gamely answering every question, before zooming off in my little hatchback.

A primal scream lodges in my throat. I want to throttle these people: Kara, Miss Hogshaw, and most of all, Stuart Farmer. Who do they think they are? Granted, I wasn’t exactly a stellar employee, but then again, they were watching my computer, day in and day out. That’s frightening.

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