“Um, shell-shocked? One minute I’ll be crying, and then the next I’m completely numb.” I’m not sure how to describe the surreality of my heartbreak. “Maybe I’m in the first stage of grief, meaning denial? Most of Neil’s stuff is in the condo, so when I woke up this morning it looked like nothing happened. Like he’s just on some golf weekend or business trip. And since it’s Saturday, I didn’t have to get ready for work … for a job that I no longer have, anyway. The only unusual thing about my day is that I started putting my resume together.” I shake my head numbly.
“I can’t believe it. That bastard,” Jordan hisses and then squeezes my hand again. “Do you know who she is?”
I look down at my drink and give a small nod.
“Who?”
Without looking at her, I shake my head, not ready to talk about Stacey. “I’ll tell you after the next margarita.”
She lets go of my hand and picks up her drink. “And, oh my god, your job! What happened?”
“Where do I begin?”
I’m glad it’s just Jordan here tonight. Obviously, I can no longer talk to Stacey, though I do have words for her. And in hindsight, the way Kate had been lurking around the office the last few weeks (and her absence tonight) makes me wonder if she knew what was coming.
Like Mindy Kaling, I believe “best friend” describes a friendship tier rather than a one and only; and Jordan, Stacey, and Kate all made the tier during different stages of my life. Jordan was my college roommate at DePaul University and stayed that way until we moved in with our respective boyfriends after graduation. With her long brown curly hair, freckles, smiling green eyes, and infectious laugh and energy, I knew right away she would be a best friend for life. I became friends with Stacey when I was twenty-two and first started working at PR Worldwide, where she left after a couple years to go onto “bigger and better” things, which all turned out to be the same job at various other PR firms, moving on but not up. Right after Stacey left, Kate started working at PR Worldwide, and I took on the role of her unofficial mentor, and, over the years, our loyal work relationship turned into a personal friendship.
They were a diverse trio. Jordan never really clicked with Stacey or Kate, but she was friendly with them because they were my friends. Stacey and Kate clicked immediately on a professional—if not personal—level since we all had the same job in common. While Stacey and I were regularly asked if we were sisters, short dark-haired Kate was my polar opposite in looks and outlook—my optimism versus what she called “happy pessimism.”
All three women were set to be my bridesmaids. While Stacey has probably figured out she’s fired from the job, I now need to tell Kate. Though I suspect she’ll probably be relieved. When I had asked her to be in the wedding party, she said, “Yes,” but her eyes clearly said no. Behind them I could tell she was already mentally prepping herself for weekends filled with too much cheerful girliness capped off with donning a hideous bridesmaid dress—“Just promise me no bubble hems. And don’t make me tie ribbons on things, or any of that shit.” Kate may be loyal, but she also has boundaries.
“Start wherever you want,” says Jordan. “And I can’t believe Stacey and Kate aren’t here for this. I assume Kate already knows about work, but do they know about the wedding?”
“Actually, I can believe they’re not here,” I say with an uncharacteristic edge in my voice, which I’m allowed under the circumstances. “I’ll start from the beginning, with work.”
I HAD WALKED into my office on Friday morning, business as usual. Around ten, I received an email from Paige, the firm’s president, asking me to meet her in her office at three o’clock. It struck me as a little unusual that she didn’t mention the purpose of the meeting, but otherwise nothing else tipped me off to what was going to be the start of my doomsday. Until then, I made some calls, followed up on some press releases, and reviewed copy for some marketing materials. I asked Kate if she wanted to go to lunch, but she said she was working through. Again, this was nothing unusual since she typically works through lunchtime and grabs something later in the day.
When I walked into Paige’s office at three, I was mildly surprised to see Darren from Human Resources also sitting in the room.
“Hi, guys,” I said, as I lightly knocked on the door, not sure if I was interrupting their conversation.
Both stood up.
“Good afternoon, Allison,” said Paige from behind her desk. “Please have a seat.” She gestured at the chair next to where Darren had been sitting.
Darren nodded at me in greeting and, the second I took my seat, abruptly closed the door before sitting back down next to me.
“So what’s going on?” I asked.
With Darren there and the door closed, I wasn’t sure if this meeting was about a client or an employee matter. Noting the pained expression behind Paige’s eyes, I knew that whatever this was about, it wasn’t going to be good.
Paige took a deep breath before starting. “Allison, we’ve been colleagues for a long time now, so what I have to say is very hard.”
My first thought was, Oh my god, Paige is leaving. Or even more disastrous, perhaps she was ill or someone in her family was ill. Is that why she did the breast cancer walk last year? I immediately wanted to say some words of comfort, but felt it would be inappropriate. So I remained quiet waiting for her next words.
“As you know, over the last several months, some of your major clients have reduced their budgets, and we’ve received some complaints about cost.”
This is not unusual in our industry. If there is economic uncertainty or a downturn, the first thing companies do is start scrutinizing the bills and slashing their marketing budgets. I simply nodded, wondering what this had to do with Paige’s leaving and being sick.
“More recently, clients have been complaining about you,” she continued.
This news was unusual, and I could feel my heart begin to race. Paige was fine—I was the one who was going to be sick.
“They’ve been questioning your efficiency and costs, and several have requested another account manager who might be better suited to their goals.”
Though I tried to keep my face neutral, I could feel myself blinking too much as I rapidly tried to figure out how to respond. “I’m so sorry, Paige, but this is all news to me.” I willed myself not to be defensive. “Which clients have complained?” And why didn’t anyone tell me?
“It doesn’t matter at this point. But as president, I’m ultimately responsible for keeping them happy.”
“Of course.” I’d always followed the rule of apologizing and then immediately fixing whatever needed to be fixed. Though how could I fix something if I didn’t know what was broken? I needed to stand up for myself the best I could. “Although a couple clients have recently reduced their budgets, I’ve managed to convince them not to reduce down to what they proposed and also found creative ways to maximize their presence in the marketplace with less cost. But, otherwise, none of my clients have mentioned their dissatisfaction to me. If I knew exactly which clients and what their issues are, I’m sure I can fix it.”
“I know, Allison. You’re one of our best account managers. I don’t understand it either.” Paige shook her head. “But as you just mentioned, some of our clients are tightening their belts and so must we. We need to look at our teams and decide where we can consolidate. Unfortunately, when these things happen the firm can’t afford to keep everyone on.”