My Manager Fired Me Over One Sheet of Paper,So I Sent Him to Prison

2: 2

I hung up on Mark and stood in the stairwell for a while, gripping my phone.

Four years of results, wiped out by a single sheet of A4 paper. Who would even believe it?

Back at my desk, Meryl was sitting with her legs crossed, talking to Stuart Lambert from the next row over.

"Some people, huh. Doesn't matter how many deals they close. If they don't know the rules, it all comes to nothing in the end."

Stuart laughed along, head down, scrolling his phone.

"The manager's got a good head on him. He should've cracked down way sooner. Some people just get used to taking advantage of the company."

I sat back down in my chair, and something from two years ago came back to me.

Back then Stuart had been at the company three months, hadn't closed a single deal, and his probation was hanging by a thread.

One night he was crouched in the stairwell smoking, and I told him,

"I've got a client, pretty much a done deal. Take it. Count it as yours."

His eyes had gone red and he called me his big sister.

That deal got him through probation. He stayed on.

Last year at the company party, Meryl got so drunk from a client at the next table that she couldn't stand.

I stepped in front of her and threw back three shots in a row before I got the guy to back off.

She hung onto my arm and said, "Gloria, you're the best," then threw up all over me.

Now she's telling me to go make her tea.

And Stuart's laughing right along with her.

They've both forgotten.

Or they've decided they shouldn't remember.

Whatever Benjamin's giving them is worth more than anything I ever did for them.

Everybody in this company can do the math. Everybody but me.

At three that afternoon, Benjamin posted a new notice in the work area.

Black on white, stamped with the department seal.

"To standardize internal management, effective immediately, any use of office supplies without approval will result in forfeiture of the current month's bonus and all project commissions."

"Three violations will result in termination."

Benjamin didn't put the words "A4 paper" anywhere on it, but I knew exactly who the rule was for.

Next to it on the board hung another notice. Stuart's performance this month was outstanding, bonus raised fifteen percent.

Meryl earned an A on her quarterly review, one salary grade up.

Someone said, "Poor Gloria," so quietly it was like a mosquito buzzing once.

But nobody dared to stand with me.

Before the end of the day, Benjamin called me into his office.

"That big project. The client's coming to see the proposal tomorrow. Get everything ready and make sure it's airtight."

"Also, that management opening at headquarters. I turned it down for you."

"You've been terminated. You don't qualify."

I knew it wasn't that I didn't qualify. He was scared of me moving up.

Scared I'd take his seat and go through his books.

But some things, you bring down on your own head.

I gave a little smile. Who lasts here in the end is still anybody's guess.

At nine the next morning, Mark arrived with his team.

Benjamin was running around fawning over them like a lapdog.

I was on the bench now. My spot right beside the client, the one I always had, wasn't mine anymore.

And, just as I'd guessed, it wasn't long before things stirred up in there.

Stuart came hurrying over.

"Where are the materials? You didn't print them?"

"I'm not worthy of using A4 paper."

I pointed at the notice board.

"The whole company knows."

Stuart froze.

Benjamin shoved the conference room door open and rushed out, his face gone dark red.

"Gloria, what the hell are you doing? The client's waiting to see the process!"

He wasn't wrong. The core materials were what I'd worked out with Mark, so it should've been me handling it.

But why should I?

Mark's voice carried out from the conference room.

"How are you running a meeting with no materials?"

"Manager Sawyer, if you can't even spare a sheet of paper, why would I sign a twenty-million-dollar deal with you?"

Benjamin spun around and ran back toward the conference room.

"Mark, let me explain—"

"No need."

Mark stood up, and behind him his whole team got up and started filing out.

"Your department's a mess. I don't trust it."

As Mark passed my desk, he glanced at me and gave a small nod.

Benjamin took two steps after him, then stopped and whipped around to glare at me.

"Gloria, did you do this on purpose?"

"I wouldn't dare."

I squinted at him and smiled.

"I don't have printing access. That's the rule you set."

He jabbed a finger at me, and it kept shaking for a long moment.

I ignored him.

At five thirty I packed up and clocked out.

My phone kept buzzing. Twenty-some new messages in the company group chat.

All of them Benjamin tagging everyone to demand overtime.

I didn't even look. I went downstairs and got on the subway home.

Once I was settled in my seat, I started going through three years' worth of files on my laptop. Screenshots of invoices, copies of expense claims, the "kickbacks" clients had mentioned in passing.

That shell company of Benjamin's existed for one thing, to swallow up company assets.

Stuart had laundered money through it for him. Meryl had faked reports for him.

Isn't it "embezzling company property"? Fine. Let's do a proper accounting of who embezzled more.

And who deserves to be punished.