Menopause Got Me Fired From My Son's Company

I took out my phone and called Jonathan in front of Fiona.

"What's this? Who do you think you can call to help you pretend like you're some big shot, huh?" Fiona mocked.

The call kept ringing for ages before going unanswered. When I called again, it was rejected right after the very first ring.

I was fuming. Now that Jonathan was abroad, he wasn't even taking calls from his own mother, huh?

All along, he'd staunchly declared to me that women were a distraction and that he wanted to focus on the company, yet this was the situation we were in right now.

The way I saw it, the company was in such a mess because of him.

"Stop pretending." Fiona grabbed the termination notice and put it through the paper shredder. "Since you're not going to sign it, you can forget about getting the salary you're owed, too. Just pack your things and get the hell out of the office."

When I returned to the design department, everyone was quiet. The young employees who used to crowd around me, calling me their mentor, kept their heads down and their eyes focused on the screens in front of them.

They all acted like they were avoiding even the slightest association with me.

Such was the workplace. It was every man for themselves. What a chilling realization that was.

I went back to my desk to find that my once neatly organized design drafts were now tossed together in a messy pile. The ones on top were covered in large brown coffee stains, and even my drawing tablet had been tossed into the trash can next to my desk.

Sasha rolled over in her office chair with a mug of coffee in hand. She didn't even look pregnant yet, but she was acting like she was on the verge of giving birth.

"So sorry about that, Theresa." She pretended to apologize, but she had a smug smile on her face. "My hand slipped earlier, and the coffee spilled out before I even realized it."

What an absurd excuse. Our desks were over six feet apart. How did her coffee end up splattering on my desk?

"But since you're leaving anyway, we don't need to keep this pile of scrap paper around anymore, right?"

The pile of scrap paper she was referring to consisted of the original hand-drawn sketches for the Crest Park project. I'd spent an entire month on them.

Jonathan had previously told me that the project was extremely important to the company. But now, my work had been reduced to a bunch of soiled paper.

"Scrap paper, you say?" I picked up a soaked design sketch and looked at her. "Sasha, do you even understand the structural mechanics employed in this sketch? Do you know which ones are the load-bearing annotations?"

Sasha curled her lip and rolled away scornfully. "Why would I need to understand those things? All I need is Jonny. He said that I just need to look pretty and give him a cute baby. There are plenty of other people who'd line up to do the sketches and all those kinds of menial labor."

Low chuckles rang out from all around us. The other workers were laughing at me for not knowing my place—even the intern, Maisie Hill.

I'd taught her many design techniques. She was practically my mentee, and she certainly liked calling me her mentor in the past. But now, to suck up to Sasha, she mocked me as well.

"That's right, old lady. At your age, you should just go home and help out with your grandchildren. Oh, I heard your son doesn't even care about you. I guess you don't have any grandchildren to look after, either. Well, Sasha here is about to marry rich. She's going to live a life of luxury, you know."

Sasha beamed at the flattery. She pulled out some cash from her purse and casually tossed it onto my desk. "Here you go. Now hurry up, pack your things, and get lost. Stop being an eyesore. It reeks of old people here, and the smell is suffocating my baby."

I looked at the money, then at Sasha's smug face.

The anger inside me slowly settled. I couldn't be any clearer-headed than I was now.

Jonathan had really done it now. Thanks to him, the company was a mess, and I had to clean up after him.

Since these people thought I was just some hapless old lady, I decided to play along.

Bending down, I retrieved the drawing tablet from the trash can and dusted it off. Then, I drew a large X over the coffee-stained design sketches.

"Remember what you said today, Sasha," I said as I threw the pen into the trash. "These sketches are now ruined. No one besides me can handle the Crest Park project. Don't come crying to me later."

Sasha acted as if she'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee again.

"Come crying to you? Have you started developing dementia already, Theresa? I've got Jonathan and an elite team of designers at my beck and call. Why would I need you?" she declared before raising her voice.

"Security! Security! Toss this crazy old hag out of here now!"

The security guards rushed into the office. When they saw me, their gazes became conflicted. As it was, I'd always been courteous and friendly with them.

"Please don't make our jobs harder, Ms. Allen…"

I didn't let them haul me out. I picked up my handbag and walked off with my back straight.