Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“ T his is SO unfair!” Brooke wailed.
She had the same email up on her screen that everybody else did; a message from Neil Kingston outlining all the big changes that were coming to Luxmore Appliances.
“I know,” I said. “It’s only his first official day as CEO, and he dumps all this on us. What a prick.”
The list of changes included staff redundancies, an end to the staff trip to Fiji, the removal of the subsidy on cafeteria food, free car parking for senior staff scrapped, and a salary freeze on all management and executive positions.
Tension ran high in the office. My coworkers grumbled and groaned at their desks.
“The staff trip… Fiji…” Brooke’s eyes shone with uncried tears.
I swallowed my sip of coffee. “Wait. Jobs are on the line, and you’re most concerned about the staff trip?”
“Of course. It was my turn to go this year. I bought a new swimsuit and everything.”
To encourage staff retention, starting in their third year working at the company, employees were eligible to go on the trip that year and every third year after that. Or they were, until now.
A notification sound pinged around the room. One new message in the work chat. A light tittering started up before turning into a full-blown giggle fest. Even Brooke cracked a smile.
Wondering what all the fuss was about, I opened the chat. When I saw the picture, I had to hold a hand over my mouth not to laugh out loud and spray coffee everywhere. I snorted instead, causing some of the hot liquid to shoot up the back of my nose with an unpleasant stinging sensation.
Someone called Sunny from the IT department had posted an unflattering photo of Neil Kingston with a grumpy look on his face, edited to include a pair of devil horns, pitchfork, and a pointed tail. A repeating pattern of looping fire texture animated GIFs formed the background, reminiscent of nineties web design.
“Oh my gosh. What is this?” I asked when I had swallowed my coffee and recovered from laughter convulsions.
“Looks like someone had some spare time on their hands,” Brooke said, smirking at the picture on her screen.
In the days that followed, the picture became an office meme, spawning multiple humorous variations, including Neil in a tutu surrounded by sparkles, and Neil with his hair and nose removed to make him look like Lord Voldemort—that one was my favourite.
I was enjoying the latest rendition when the landline phone on my desk rang. At first, I didn’t realise it was mine. No one ever called me on it—everyone sent messages in the work chat. I wasn’t client facing, so it was unlikely to be an external call.
Wrong number?
I tentatively picked up. “Hello?”
“Is this Amelia Cross?” a man asked.
It was for me after all, and the use of my full name made it seem important. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Are you free to attend a quick meeting in ten minutes?”
I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden request. What meeting and who with? “Uh… Yes, that should be okay?—”
“Excellent. Please report to the twentieth floor at four fifteen. Thank you.”
The line went dead before I could ask what it was about, leaving me staring at the receiver, my palms clammy.
The twentieth floor.
No one had ever asked me to go there before. What business could I have on the twentieth floor?
Unless…
My mind rushed to a terrifying conclusion. Could it be a redundancy meeting? Had the restructure already begun? Neil Kingston had only just stepped into the role of CEO. If it was as I suspected, then I hated him even more. How could he start firing people so quickly?
Heartless monster.
“Who was that?” Brooke asked.
“I don’t know. Someone asked me to go to the twentieth floor.”
“Whoa. That sounds scary.”
“I’m a little worried. My heart’s pounding.”
She waved her hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“That’s not what you just said!”
“I overreacted. Probably.”
“You’re doing very little to reassure me right now.”
She patted my back. “You’ll be fine, and if not, I’ll be here to commiserate with you when you get back.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Elbows on my desk, I rested my head in my hands and groaned. I didn’t want to commiserate. I wanted all of this to be nothing more than a bad dream. No new boss, no restructure, no changes at all. I was content with the way things were.
The minutes dragged by until it was time to leave.
“Are you going to the mystery meeting now?” Brooke asked.
I nodded.
“Good luck.” She held up crossed fingers on both hands.
With a knot of dread in my stomach, I marched towards my fate. The knot tightened as the lift climbed—sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…
The ding of the doors opening made me jump in fright. After a deep breath to calm myself, I stepped out and absorbed my surroundings. I had arrived in a luxurious reception area with a curved desk and a grey stone floor that was so shiny I could see my reflection in it. The yellow hue of the downlights and a bright bouquet of alstroemerias in a glass vase on the desk warmed the otherwise monochromatic colour scheme. White fibre-optic lights displayed the company’s logo on the wall—a stylised snowy mountain peak.
I approached the receptionist, a tall young man with floppy brown hair. His name tag said James Campbell. “Hi, James. I’m Amelia Cross. I was told to come here?—”
“Yes. You may take a seat.” His voice was the same as I had heard on the phone—somehow energetic, yet bored at the same time. He seemed high-strung.
I dithered for a second, unsure whether I wanted to ask questions or just do as he said. When he fixed me an odd stare in response to my hesitation, I blurted my query. “Uh, could you please tell me what this is about? Who am I supposed to be meeting?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m sorry. Neil Kingston is going to see you.”
Neil Kingston.
The name I had feared. My heart sped up and my muscles tensed. Neil Kingston, the new CEO, wanted to see me . In all my time working at Luxmore, I had never met with the CEO before. He was far too big and important.
At least he has the guts to fire his employees face to face. No, I bet he gets a kick out of it.
“Please, take a seat. I’m sure he’ll be with you soon,” James said.
“But what does he want to see me about?” I asked.
James frowned. “I don’t know much except that he’s been talking to a lot of employees over the last couple of days. Sorry.”
“Oh. That’s all right. Thanks.”
I slunk to the couch, defeated. A glass pitcher of water with lemon slices and half-melted ice cubes sat on the coffee table. I poured myself a small cup.
So far, all signs pointed towards redundancy. Why else would the CEO be meeting a bunch of employees one by one in his office?
The top on inside-out incident replayed in my head. Why, oh why, did that have to happen? Mr. Kingston’s first impression of me was as someone who couldn’t even dress herself properly, and if he realised I had been trying to flirt with him, even worse.
I’m so doomed.
Gulping the icy, lemony water did little to deter my rapidly rising body temperature. My legs were beginning to adhere to the leather upholstery. Left for much longer, I might permanently fuse with it.
A woman emerged from beyond the reception area and strode towards the lifts. Had she just come from meeting Mr. Kingston too? Did that mean it was my turn now? I watched her with laser eyes, analysing her behaviour for clues. She didn’t look upset, but she seemed contemplative with her furrowed brow and the way she chewed her lip.
Hmm.
Someone else appeared a moment later. I noticed the baby bump first, then I took in the rest of her. She was an elegant woman, dressed in black, wide-legged trousers and a blue-grey silk blouse. No makeup, apart from a subtle shade of lipstick. Her black hair was pulled back with a chic claw clip. “Amelia Crook,” she called.
Peeling myself from the couch felt like ripping off Velcro. Sounded like it too. I cringed, hoping she didn’t hear. Once I had extricated myself, I introduced myself properly. “Actually, it’s Amelia Cross . There’s an Amelia Crook in the marketing department. Our names are so similar, we get mixed up all the time. Most people just call me by my nickname, Milly.”
“That is confusing. Milly Cross. I’ll remember that. My name’s Christine Liu. I’m Neil’s secretary.”
“Nice to meet you, Christine.”
“Come on through. Let me take you to see Neil.”
Christine seemed warm and friendly, but her cheeriness felt at odds with the situation at hand.
“So… what’s this meeting about?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. Neil is going to talk to every head office employee over the next few days. It’s not just you. Nothing has been decided yet.”
Whew. He wasn’t going to fire me after all. Not now, at least. He was talking to everyone, and he couldn’t fire all of us—as much as I was sure he’d like to.
“That’s a relief,” I said, my shoulders loosening up a tad.
She ushered me inside a modern office with large windows overlooking the busy central business district. A series of black-and-white framed photographs displayed a timeline of the company’s history on taupe walls, and two wooden desks stood at opposite sides of the room. Between them, an open door led to another area.
“This is my office,” Christine said. “Neil’s office is through that door.”
I eyed the open doorway with trepidation, but from my current angle, I couldn’t see inside.
“Would you like a tea or coffee? Water?” Christine asked.
“No, thank you.”
“Then let’s go in. Neil’s waiting.”
I followed her through the door into Neil’s office. The room was spacious and decorated in a tasteful, modern fashion. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the left wall, roller blinds pulled partway down to impede the stream of sunlight. A seating area occupied the front of the room, with two long black leather couches on opposite sides of an oval glass coffee table. Neil’s desk stood at the end of the room in front of a wall of shelves stuffed with books and files. He sat on his black executive chair, head down, eyes on the paperwork in front of him. He hunched his shoulders. His jaw was tight, and a vein popped out on his forehead. I wasn’t sure whether he was in a bad mood or if he always looked like that. I was leaning towards the latter theory. Either way, my guard was up.
We approached his desk.
“Neil, this is Milly Cross from the comms department,” Christine said.
Neil lifted his head and zeroed in on me with an unnerving stare. The flash of recognition in his eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten our recent encounter. I tried not to shrink from his gaze, lest he take it as a sign of weakness.
Please don’t bring up the inside-out-top incident.
Christine left my side and retreated from the room. Neil stood up. He wore a clean white shirt, a navy tie, and grey trousers. He smelled faintly of dark floral cologne. Though he wasn’t tall, he possessed a commanding, take-no-prisoners presence. He extended a hand that was unadorned apart from the luxury watch on his wrist.
I reached out to shake his hand, but the moment we connected, a jolt of electricity coursed through me, and I pulled away. “Ouch! Did you feel that?” I asked.
“Static,” he said.
He didn’t attempt to shake my hand again. He sat back down and gestured to the chair opposite him. I lowered myself onto the seat.
“Amelia Cross…”
His voice was low and silky, with a nice little rumble to it. If that voice came from another man’s mouth, I’d find it sexy. Too bad it had to belong to him .
“Mr. Kingston,” I said.
“In this country, we use first names in the workplace, do we not? It’s Neil.”
“Yes, Neil .” His name felt strange on my tongue.
He continued to scrutinise me in a way which made me want to squirm in my seat. I tried to stay still and breathe calmly, though my thoughts threatened to deteriorate into a scrambled mess.
Hold yourself together.
“Thank you for coming at such late notice,” Neil said after an agonising pause. “I didn’t intend to start on the communications department today, but I’m running ahead of schedule.”
“I would have appreciated some detail in advance,” I said, arms folded tight across my chest.
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Would you? I think this information is best heard face to face.”
I felt my blood drain. “Christine said that no decisions have been made yet.”
“Not so. There are a few things I have already decided.”
He was toying with me; a cat playing with its prey. I couldn’t just sit back and take it. I had to know.
“Do you mean that I’m going to lose my job?” I asked.
Neil smirked. “That is a strong possibility. I would like to cut the communications department by half. At least.”
Half!
The faces of my colleagues paraded through my mind. Many of them would be let go, and there was a decent chance I’d be one of them.
What am I going to do?
Neil read the paper at the top of the neat pile on his desk. I glimpsed my name and realised it must be some kind of employee profile.
“Your job title is communications assistant. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been in the role for three months.”
“That’s right.”
“You don’t have a degree, and you have no prior experience related to your current role. You’ve worked as a part-time cleaner, an office temp, and in the call centre. That’s interesting.” The glint in his eyes told me he aimed to intimidate me and throw me off guard.
It wouldn’t work.
I lifted my chin and met him eye to eye. “I’m self-taught. While I worked in the call centre, I used my lunch breaks to shadow staff in the communications department, and I spent my evenings learning all the skills and software necessary to get a junior role on their team. I didn’t want to stay in the call centre forever, so I bugged Brendon until he gave me a job. I think he realised I wouldn’t leave him alone until he did.”
Neil’s lips quirked up at the corners, forming more of a sneer than a smile. “That’s quite impressive.”
Genuine compliment or snide derision? I couldn’t tell. “Thank you,” I said, daring to take the compliment.
“You’re hardworking, intelligent…”
Is he mocking me?
“Tell me, what’s this gap in your employment history between leaving school and temping?” he asked.
I gritted my teeth.
Trust him to point that out.
It seemed like there was no alternative but to tell him the truth, though I doubted he was capable of sympathy. I kept my explanation brief.
“After high school, I went to university to study medicine, but a family emergency forced me to drop out.”
He didn’t need to know I spent a year wallowing, unemployed, after that.
A tad of his cockiness evaporated. Or was it my imagination?
“I see.”
“When are we going to find out who’s getting made redundant?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Soon. Within two weeks at most.”
“Something to look forward to.”
He ignored my sarcastic remark. “I will inform you by email. If you are made redundant, you will be invited to an exit interview, and you may bring a support person if you wish.”
“What about redundancy pay?”
“I will honour the terms of your contract. I suggest you read yours and check the notice period and potential payout.”
“I will.”
“That covers everything I need to tell you. You may leave.” He nodded in the door’s direction.
That’s it?
I rose and wondered whether I should try to shake his hand again, but his attention had already returned to the papers on his desk. I muttered, “Thank you,” and exited the room, the prospect of unemployment weighing on my shoulders.