The Hourglass

Twelve

Chelsea came over Friday after work for a girls' night. She walks in freely when she arrives as I'm at the stove, pulling out our frozen pizza. It doesn't bother me. She and Dad have copies of the key to my apartment. I realize, then, if I don't mind her just waltzing in, I really shouldn't have a problem doing that to my Dad. 

She tosses her bag on the floor and plops down on the couch with a sigh, putting her feet up on the ottoman. "Ugh, I need my brain to shut off after today," she complains. 

I glance over at her, concerned. "What happened?" 

I had to help my manager fire someone today, and I just feel really bad about it," she explains. 

"How come?" I ask as I slice up our pizza. "Did they not deserve it?" 

"Oh, no, he definitely deserved it. I've actually been wanting to fire him for so long. I've written him up way more times than necessary to need to do so," she explains. 

"I'm confused, then. What took so long for you to fire him? And now that you have, why do you feel so bad about it?" I plate our pizza slices and walk to the living room handing her a plate. I set mine down on the coffee table and went back to the kitchen for drinks. 

"He's constantly starting fights at work and he's been caught stealing from the company, so, yes, he deserved to get fired finally; but, I feel bad because I know he has a wife and kids at home and it's not their fault he's such a piece of crap," she says frustrated. I hand her a drink and sit down on the couch next to her. 

"Im sorry, Chelsea." I'm sure that wasn't an easy decision.

"Well, it wasn't even really my decision. It was my manager's decision. But I had to be in the office with her when she fired him because I'm the one on the floor with them every day. I'm the one who's written him up twenty-three times -"

"Twenty-three?" I interrupt.

"Yes. Twen-three," she says, drawing it out. "So we had to talk about all of that. Then I had to go back and forth with HR about his write-ups and firing paperwork. We had to get him to sign a paper that said he agreed to be fired -"

"How can anyone agree to be fired?" I ask, confused. 

"Well, it was either that or we press charges because he was caught stealing on camera twice," she explains. "So instead of doing that we offered to just part ways peacefully with him, with it being understood he'll never be allowed to set foot on the property again."

"Wow, bummer," I say lamely. "I wonder how his wife will take it."

"Probably not well. She needs to just leave him, but she has a messed up back and can't work and she's got the little one at home because they can't afford daycare." 

"Wow, that's really sad." I say, feeling terrible for the family. 

Chelsea sighs. "Yeah, so that was my day. How was yours?" she asks then takes a bite of her pizza. 

I felt guilty, yet grateful then for my job. "Same old, same old," I said with a smile. 

"You're so lucky," she says shaking her head at me. 

My eyes widen in surprise. She's never once said something like that to me. "Yeah, I often think so..." I said confused, "But I never thought you felt that way." 

"Of course. Everyone feels that way, Rose. That's why Demetrius was such a witch to you at dinner last weekend. Nobody wants to go to their crappy corporate job and deal with other people. But that's normal life. You got lucky." she finishes as she continues to eat her pizza.