The secretary still kept herself to the story: she said the boss takes the employees three by three for a little talk. We went to the old office of the CEO, I had two of the ladies I worked with on my side. The desks, the shelves were all empty, dust everywhere. The editor-in-chief seated us on the sofa.
- Well, you all know about the recession - he started.
I didn't even hear what he said, I was watching one of the colleague ladies, she was fighting back tears. I was sorry for her, because I was firmly sure that I'm only here because of some fatal mistake, they will re-check the list again, and then they will find it out. But my renunciation was there in the pile, too. Meanwhile, the editor-in-chief gave over to the HR representative. She tried to be really sympathetic, but to me she was only the hangman, promptly and immediately executing my capital sentence. The little show's last act was the lawyer, asking us politely to sign the renunciation notice before leaving the room. The other lady tried to argue, to call her lawyer, and I was just staring in front of myself, not believing that this whole thing is happening to me. I'm not even sure if she could finally talk to someone. I thought, what would happen if I ran out of this room, down the corridors, out to the street. There's none of this whole thing, no renunciation, firing, execution. I later heard that some would escape into temporary disability leave so they can extend the whole procedure. I didn't say a word, I just motioned for them to give me the paper and I scratched my name on it. I get my salary for two more months, and then it's over. Ten years' work goes into the trash with a single line of the pen.
- Also, you are exempt of work from now - the HR rep showed us to the door. Which means that the next day we don't even have to come in. The editor-in-chief called us in to his office one by one. He told us the clichés that must be just the same at any given point in this world: you did your job good, but certain external conditions... According to some gossips, he could have saved at least half of the people fired now if his position doesn't weaken in the inner fights. That "if" has been echoing in my head a million times and more since then. If I tried and positioned myself better, if I picked up more hours, if I was more aggressive, if I chose a different profession, if I learned something more tangible, if I'm not born in this country, on this Earth... eh, forget it. I didn't want to show him how it hurts, so I just answered him I already was thinking about going. I saw the relief on his face. I'm sure he wanted to believe it. The survivors just tried to disappear into their monitors, the fired ones were standing in the middle, talking and complaining. I went to my computer, but I couldn't log on anymore, my password was cancelled. I emptied my drawers, tossed my inside papers into a trashcan, my personal matters into a small blue plastic bag. I threw my jacket over my back and I walked out of the editorial office. The clerk who coordinated the "death run" was really nice. I just named it a death run, the last walk around the company, going to each and every department to sign a paper that we have no company property on our hands anymore. Nice little jog, but at least the boss's secretary had some pity on us and offered to just take the signed sheets to each department. Just go back the next day when she has them all collected. Only one thing was left: handing off the picture ID badges. It couldn't wait till the next day, we had to take them immediately to the board of trustees. Not to the reception, where you could just drop it on the counter with a casual smile "thanks, I won't need it any longer". Nope. We got a brand new card to replace it, with a single word on its face:
EXIT ONLY
Peter's blog had not a trace left of the casual tone. Sophie took the first week with an enormous empathy, she tried to calm Peter by saying he should just take the notice time as well-deserved holidays. Don't do anything else than sending his resume everywhere, resting and meeting old friends. But Peter closed up. Sophie lived it like this:
I should have been suspicious when he didn't get out of the house in the first days. He was digging online feverishly for jobs, even though Zsolt, the head-hunter told him clearly that he won't ever find an editorial job online. Only through friends and acquaintances, maybe with a head-hunter company. But Peter just kept saying that secretly he has been looking for a while, and he has seen four or five offers each month that he may have even taken. But it's a recession, and possibilities shrink by the moment.
He was more and more beside himself. He never went anywhere, no matter how I was encouraging him to look up old friends and acquaintances. Then he always just shut my up by saying that he will never go begging for alms. They know he's out of his job, they can call him. I think he was ashamed of it with his friends. He told himself that nobody likes losers, who would want someone who was rejected by someone else - by everyone else. I tried to tell him he's exaggerating - to no avail, and truth to be told, no acquaintances really popped up when it leaked out what happened to him.
Something else has changed then, too. At first I didn't even notice it either that days are passing, one after the other, and he's not making any advances to me.
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