Page 62 of I Hope This Finds You Well

Archives Aren’t My Own

Back at my desk, I unlock my phone and stop the recording. Two new text notifications from my mom are waiting for me.

Mom:There’s a new cheat where they sneak drugs in your luggage and another guy kidnaps you! Don’t travel.

Mom:Also, Starbucks is a waste of money.

I swipe them away unread, linking my headphones to pressplay. The dead static of an empty boardroom plays.

I hitpause.

Anything could be in this recording. Yeah, Gregory will surely make me recoil minute one, but that’s not what’s tensing my butt cheeks.

It’s silly. It’s literally Cliff’s job to talk about me behind my back. I need to get a grip.

It’s this place—that’s it.

As if to confirm my fears, footsteps tumble behind me as Larry and Joy pass by, matching mugs in hand and downturned mouths. They’re discussing the quality of the duffel bag they each got as a fifteen-year appreciation gift from Supershops.

I can’t do it here. I can’t hear something that’ll make me want to dissolve into a pile of dust while Stu fiddles with the angle of his desk fan. But I can’t wait until I’m safely at home either. I can’t sit through another car ride with Cliff if he’s sold me out.

I slide my phone into my back pocket. I’m only too aware of myself and everyone I pass as I head toward the elevator, then keep going straight. The archive room at the end of the hall greets me like a dark cloak, the earthy cardboard scent beckoning me inside. The shelves are stacked so tightly with bulky file boxes they basically soundproof the room. I’ve actually had a few decent cry breaks in here. Turning on the lights will surely draw the attention of a passerby, so I crouch in acorner and fully settle into the sensory deprivation of the dark room as I pop in my headphones and pressplay.

I speed past the initial greetings, managing to stop when Gregory just has to say, “Let’s get to the meat and potatoes then. What did you want to discuss?”

Cliff lets out a labored breath and says, “Well, I’ve met with most of the seventh-floor employees so far, but the most pressing thing is the employee in mandatory stress training. I think some of the resentments with the company are beyond the parameters of what we’re covering. The course isn’t designed to address these kinds of underlying mental health issues, and it’s not in my interest to set someone up for failure or inhibit their long-term success with Supershops.”

My heart drops into my stomach. Cliff had promised me he wouldn’t say anything when I panicked in his office. And now he has to tell the worst fuck in the world about my issues. This is why I shouldn’t have eaten his donuts or agreed to go out for milkshakes. I should never have agreed to be his carpool buddy.

He’s an HR guy deep in his soul.

Gregory clears his throat. “Well, that sounds simple enough. Failing the course equals termination.”

My blood freezes.

Cliff’s voice comes back. “Actually, I want to propose that the company provide more mental health support.”

Gregory’s laugh charges through my earbuds and grates against my bones. “Mental health support.” He chortles again. “We aren’t running a day spa. Let’s not make this too hard a puzzle. Failure in a mandatory course leads to termination. It’s the easiest and, better yet, cheapest solution.”

There it is. Exactly what I knew. How can Cliff be so dense? It’s not right.

There’s a moment of silence, filled only by my pounding heart.

“I understand that position,” Cliff finally says, voice soft as a baby’s bum. “But this is a long-term employee we’re talking about. If we ignore systemic issues and simply terminate, it can cause more costly problems. Big picture: I’ve seen this in many companies I’ve workedwith. Supershops’ policies have contributed to a culture of resentment and feelings of insecurity from within.”

“Insecurity is one of the most effective motivators for productivity. I’m running one of the largest retailers in the country.” Gregory’s laugh rips through me again, churning my stomach. “Between you and me, it’s great when employees fail these last-chance courses. If all goes as expected, we may be able to terminate Larry by next week.”

My heart stops. Larry! Larry Goodwin. He must be the one in a stress course! I’d thought Cliff had gotten his wording wrong.

Relief rolls through me like a wave. I sink against a stack of boxes, my whole body going slack, until I think of Larry, sitting at home in his same khakis, nowhere to go, no other marketable skills. He’s a regional inventory assessor, and nobody actually knows what that means, but everyone’s afraid to ask.

Cliff’s voice is gentle. “We should wait to make a decision until we’ve completed our sessions to cover all bases.”

Gregory clears his throat. “What about the other course employee? How’s Jolene doing?”

I stop breathing.

“I see a lot of potential in her. She’s been taking the courses seriously, and I think she’s proving she can rise to the challenge.”