Chapter Nineteen The Second Experience of Bad Timing, and Layoffs
Chapter Nineteen
The Second Experience of Bad Timing, and Layoffs
We finished eating, and Will said he wanted to walk me out. “Of course,” Maggie said. “Do what you need to do. Take your time. I’m drinking coffee.”
He got my coat and walked me out the front door, and we stood on the stoop. “Well,” he said, “I’m sorry I forgot about brunch.”
I couldn’t not laugh. “Not at all. She’s great. I’m glad I got to meet her.”
“I’m sure she’s going to have a million questions,” he said. “I’ll try to keep her from texting you, but I can’t make any promises.”
“She’s welcome to text me,” I said. “I think she and I are friends now.”
He rested his arms on my shoulders, and I put my hands on his hips. “I’ll see you whenever,” he said.
“Whenever,” I repeated. And he leaned down and kissed me, and the sun was shining, and I kissed him back and swayed against him.
People say only death and taxes are certain, but that’s not true at all. A lost item you just replaced will turn up. The plane that absolutely has to be on time will be late for once. And when you are standing out on the sidewalk, practically climbing up the front of a hot photographer, the worst possible person to see you will choose that moment to be taking a vigorous walk to a yoga class.
And so, I should not have been as surprised as I was when I heard, “WHAT?”
I spun to see Eliza behind me in a peacoat and leggings, coffee in one hand, yoga mat over the other shoulder. I felt Will jump in my arms and we startled apart.
All she did was repeat it. “WHAT?”
Will just said, “What’s…”
“The waiter ?” she snapped.
“Stop yelling,” I said. “Why are you even in the city on a Saturday? Why aren’t you creeping up on people in Bethesda? What are you doing?”
“A friend of mine invited me to her class, if that’s okay with you. What are you doing?” she hollered.
“Oh my God, be quiet, ” I said, dragging her toward the building. “You are overreacting.”
She took both my hands. “I can’t believe this. You promised me you were going to leave the waiter alone. I set up these dates for you, I fed you the best Peruvian food in the city with a doctor you like who likes you like three days ago, what are you doing?”
“Nothing happened,” I said. “This has nothing to do with you, and nothing to do with that. I went on all your dates. This is not anything, it’s nothing, it’s not even real.”
“Oh, it’s nothing? It’s nothing that you’re doing exactly what we said you wouldn’t do and getting involved with exactly the person we agreed was a dead end? It’s nothing that I’ve been working my butt off for you and you’re going behind my back?”
“I am not getting involved with him,” I said. “I’m not dating him. He barely owns furniture.” I heard myself say it, and I spun to see Will looking like I’d slapped him. “Wait,” I said to him. “Just wait. Please.” I turned back to Eliza. “Stop freaking out.” I lowered my tone. “Let me go talk to him for a minute.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Too late.”
I spun around again and saw his back heading into the building. “Will—” I sputtered.
He turned to me. “It’s fine. I’m going to go up,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.” He raised one hand, and then he was gone.
I bent over, defeated, with my hands on my knees.
Eliza walked over and put her hand on my back, which was supposed to be comforting, but which made me feel worse. “I have been telling you,” she said, “that putting no thought into this doesn’t work. When are you going to hear me?”
How had everything managed to go so very badly in such a short time? It was tempting to blame Eliza and the boy-next-door who had cheated on her, but it was hard to argue that I hadn’t made, for whatever reason, this mess. I stood back up and looked at her. I held up both hands. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to go behind your back. I wasn’t trying to be dishonest. I’m sorry. Go home. I will call you.”
She stood there a minute, assessing me. “I care about you, you know,” she finally said. “I know we’re doing the show and everything. But I really care about you.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s just talk later.” She hesitated and smiled sympathetically, which made me feel even worse. “Later,” I repeated.
As soon as I got home, I texted Will. I’m so sorry, that was embarrassing. I sort of panicked, and I didn’t mean that how it sounded at all.
Forget it. Not real anyway, like you said.
—
When I got to work on Monday, my own mood was foul, because I had tried a couple of times to call Will, and it kept going to voicemail. The office mood, too, had gone from moderately anxious to maximally grim. Somebody told somebody that the HR person had been in and out of Toby’s office four times on Friday. Somebody told somebody that a media reporter had emailed to ask whether they knew anything about layoffs at Palmetto. Somebody thought Toby looked particularly miserable as he went into his office that morning, entirely without his usual gregarious overkill. It didn’t seem possible that even Toby would lay people off on December 23, but who knew anymore? I wanted to go talk to Julie, but before I could, there was an all-staff email from Toby.
Team:
As you know, we’ve been dealing with a lot of uncertainties in the industry and in the economic climate for the last year. The market for advertising has shifted, and competition has never been greater. We continue to see successes in many areas, but—
At this point, my eyes began to skim. Skim, skim, skim, get to the point, Toby, say what you’re going to say.
Unfortunately, this is going to result in the elimination of eight positions.
He had really done it. He had laid off eight people two days before Christmas.
Toby detailed exactly where these positions were coming from, which, in a company that had only about a hundred people, might as well have been a list of names. He was canceling two of our smaller shows, and he was letting go two producers who were essentially floaters, who pitched in now and then where they were needed. It was not me. It was not Julie. But it was not good.
Two minutes after I got this email, Julie Slacked me two exclamation points, and I walked over to her cube. “I know,” I said. “I hate it.”
“I don’t know how I was still surprised,” she whispered. “I didn’t know that was coming today, even though I’ve been afraid of it every day.”
“I didn’t know either,” I said. “Are you okay?”
She leaned back in her chair. “I mean, for now, because of our show. But it’s scary thinking that the only thing standing between me and being broke is Toby.”
“I think Toby knows you’re good at your job.”
“Right,” she said. “But everybody he just canned is good at their job. And we’re not done with our season. If he doesn’t like how it turns out in the end, what happens then? I’m not with Miles anymore, so I’m basically screwed. He’s going to lop me off like a turkey leg at Thanksgiving.”
“He’s going to like how the show turns out,” I said. “He’s going to.”
Julie nodded. “Speaking of that, I just got an email from Eliza.”
She wouldn’t have said anything about Will without warning me, would she? “About what?”
“About Michael #2. He left town.”
“ Another one? Don’t tell me he’s in Cincinnati, too.” For the sake of the show, we’d asked the guys not to communicate with me directly, because nobody wanted there to be a bunch of communication the audience didn’t get to hear. But I didn’t expect Michael #2 to vanish, I really didn’t.
“Not permanently. He’s visiting family over the holidays, we knew that. And now I guess he’s going to a conference in January? He got offered a spot making a speech about asthma or something. It’s in Australia, and since it’s summer there, he’s making a trip of it.”
“I can’t fault him for that.”
“No,” she said. “But the point is, we don’t have him again until at least the middle of January. So we’ll probably only fit in one more date, possibly two if the third one is good. Toby says that’s fine with him. Fitness West wants you to maybe take advantage of your membership to start the new year, and you can do some posts or something. How do you feel about swimming laps?”
“Better than I feel about treadmills,” I said. “I’ll check it out.” I frowned. “I’m suspicious of how relaxed Toby is being about the show. We’re getting time off. He’s not micromanaging the schedule. He’s pretty loosey-goosey for a guy who couldn’t stop telling me how much he needs a hit. And who was obviously right.”
“I hate all this,” she said. “Maybe Michael #2 will marry me if it doesn’t work out with you and I lose this job. Do you think he’d care that I’m a single mom?”
“I don’t know why he would,” I said. “But you’re not going to lose your job.” I reached over to touch her arm, and she raised one hand in a half-wave and walked off.
When bad news like a layoff is announced, particularly in a room full of journalists in an open-plan office, it’s like watching prairie dogs pop up out of their holes. Every head rises over the edge of the half-wall, with eyes darting all over the place. Back at my desk, I put on my headphones again. I would not pop up. I would work. Make the show, do the thing, help Julie, help yourself, get it done. Money! Sponsors! The gym! You have saved yourself! The scenery on the journey was not attractive, but hopefully, I was at least plodding along in the right direction.
Five minutes later, I got an email from Toby.
Those eight positions would have been twelve w/o the FitWest money coming in. (Melissa was on the long list.) In case you’re wondering whether all the work you’re putting in is worth it. So thank you, from all your colleagues, even the ones who don’t know it. Now I need you to put your head down and stick the landing on this thing. You can do it.