Page 1 of Worth the Try
Chapter 1
Elodie
“YOU’RE BEING LET go.”
Air whooshes from my lungs as my stomach clenches. The world tilts and dims, and my palms sting with how hard my nails are digging into them. Fired. I’m being fired. From the only job I’ve had my entire career.
“But—” I can’t finish. I can’tbreathe.A wave of dizziness overtakes me, and I unclench my fists only to grip the sides of the chair.
Slowly, as if it’s paining him just as much to say this as it is for me to hear it, Dan from HR slides a stapled set of papers across the desk, the movement serving only to draw attention to the golden name plate glinting mere inches from his wrist. A golf club is engraved on either side of his name. A distant thought hits, and I wonder if our company gave that to him, or if someone else did—his mom, maybe, or a partner.
Wait. Notourcompany. Not anymore. Because Dan just fired me. He can wrap the message up in whatever words make him feel better, but the result is the same.
My knuckles blanch. I think I might be sick.
The chair squeaks as Dan leans forward and speaks again. “We’ve, ah, we’ve put together a severance package. I think you’ll find it’s incredibly generous.”
I stare at him.Generouswould be not firing me. But he looks so upset, so uncomfortable about delivering this news, that I feel bad for him.
He must see something in my expression, because his own falters. “Elodie, I’m so?—”
I snatch the papers from the desk, startling Dan with my movement. It startles me, too, if I’m being honest, because I’mnice. Disney princess level nice. It’s literally my most defining trait. Unless you count my hair, which has its own zip code most days.
Trying not to let the pages shake in my hand, I scan the words. The terms reallyaregood. Six months’ severance with the promise of glowing reviews to potential employers, three months of them paying for insurance, and a meeting with a staffing agency to help me with next steps.
The start of a migraine begins to form around the back of my head. Or maybe that’s just the nausea. My mouth is dry.
Dan produces a pen and moves it close. “You’ve been an incredible person to work with. So nice.”
See?Nice.
Which is, apparently, not enough. Even though it should be. What happened to being rewarded for loyalty? For dedicating years of my life and more creative ideas than I could count to the most boring marketing team to ever walk the face of the planet? Not that they deserved them. Clearly.
“But Fore Gone is going in a different direction, and your role is being absorbed into a regional position.”
My eyes snap up. “Is Carolyn Ackerman getting it?” She’s been my boss on the events team for the last five years, and notonce has she liked any of the event ideas I pitched.Too risky,too gaudy, too pricey, and on and on.
He winces. “Yes.”
Of course she is. And is Carolyn nice? No. No, she is not.“You get more bees with honey, Elodie.”Despite the years of silence, I can still hear my mother’s sugary drawl as she scanned me from head to toe, her lips pinched, before sending me out to walk in yet another beauty pageant.
I grab the pen and click the top, managing to suppress my mother’s voice and my own defeated sigh as I sign and date the agreement. It’s a great pen, with smooth black ink and a comfortable grip. Dan produces a second copy for my signature, then countersigns both and returns one to me.
Sliding the pages into my hands and folding them in half, I tell him, “I’m keeping the pen.” My voice is flat. A calm sort of numbness fills my chest, and I’m grateful. Better to be numb than shrieking.
“Of course,” he says. As if it’s every day that he fires people and they declare they’re keeping the pen. Maybe it is. Maybe they do.
Dan stands, and I follow. I know what’s next. At least, I can guess at it.
Sure enough, an empty box awaits me when I get back to my cubicle. A strangled laugh escapes. Eight years I’ve been here, still in a cubicle, and all I have to show for it is a severance package and a cardboard box. Eight. Years.
How is this happening?
I clear my throat. “You don’t have to stay here.”
Dan shifts on his feet and wrings his hands. “I, um.” He looks around and lowers his voice. “I have to.”
Now a laugh reallydoescome out. “What do they think I’m going to do? Throw my laptop? Flip a table?”
