The Storm (Fairhope) (15 page)

“You will have to stop by and introduce her after you’re settled.” Dr. Tynes led us toward the first clean table we could find. Lunch hour was busy, and tables were typically left littered with dirty napkins and leftover condiments. “I assume we are stuck with Collin while you are gone.”

Shrugging my shoulders with a small smile, I tucked my American Express receipt into my Coach purse. “Yes, but you will be fine. If things get too hairy, we have associates who can step in.”

Layla carefully squirted ketchup onto her small plate. She hated for her food to touch. “Working with Collin is like trying to walk a bulldog. Is he always so abrasive?”

I suppressed a giggle. “Well…”

Dr. Tynes wiped crumbs off on his napkin. “I’ve been a surgeon for a long time. I can tell the reps who are in it for the money and the ones who care about patients.
You
care about patients. Collin does not. Jeff does not, either.”

I barely got the first bite of my fattening, scrumptious chili dog in my mouth before the email alert on my cell phone started alerting incessantly. In the name of work-life balance, I should have ignored it. But under the influence of a slight case of pregnancy-induced obsessive-compulsive-disorder, I punched my Good app.

Covington Company Official Business: Internal Restructuring…

Dr. Tynes and Layla chatted gaily about the upcoming holiday party, but I checked out the instant I gave into the temptation to check my email. My eyes widened as I skimmed the notice. Upper management was altering the structure of our business divisions; layoffs would take place two weeks before Christmas.

Other factors will be taken into consideration, such as tenure and geography, but an approved assessment completed by management will provide accurate business recommendations…

An
assessment?
We were
salespeople.
The numbers didn’t lie. Jeff could manipulate the “recommendations” with a subjective assessment …

Disguising the fear that desired to showcase on my face was not effortless. I slammed my cell phone shut and forced myself to conduct my business lunch with pleasantry. Still set on “vibrate,” dozens of texts buzzed through, and I ignored Brooke and Collin’s messages with gritted teeth. Every rep in Covington Company was frantically searching for additional information.

After work, Andrew met me at the door, fidgeting, with a somber look on his handsome face. An opened envelope was tucked in his hand, and he handed it to me with hesitation. “I thought it was a bonus check. Sorry.”

Naturally, my most recent review from Jeff would arrive the same day that layoffs were announced. Slowly, with Andrew’s eyes on me, I opened it. Immediately, my pulse raced as if I had just finished a 5K. “Teamwork: Needs Improvement.”

AGAIN.

I slammed my fist down on the counter. Cautiously, Andrew stepped back. “Asshole. This is all
bullshit
!” I screamed in a decibel that should not have come from a human. The neighbors probably cringed at my tirade. Or wondered if someone had been killed.

“Jana, it’s time to do something. Like call HR?” Andrew followed me to our bedroom like a lost puppy, where I neurotically tore off my blue maternity scrubs and searched for an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants. The desperate need to be comfortable, pronto, to process this latest blow was the first step to figuring out what action to take … if any.

“If you refuse to quit after Calla is born, you need to fight this.”

“Layoffs, Andrew. We’re having
layoffs.
I got the email today. Jeff gets to fill out some survey on me. You know I’m gone.”

Staring off into space, I calculated the weeks remaining. My chest tightened as I realized Calla was due merely weeks after the layoff.

Please, God, don’t let me have a panic attack.

The cascade of angry tears that followed was unfortunately familiar. Shaking so hard that standing was challenging, I waved an “I’m sorry” apology to Andrew, who stared at me while he helplessly wrung his hands behind his neck. I nearly fell as I stormed inside the bathroom and slammed the door.

“You don’t have much time, Jana. Will you talk to HR?” He would not give up.

What did I do to deserve this?
I thought bitterly as I contemplated his question. All I desired was to win company trips, help patients, make love to my husband, go baby shopping with Grace, and bask in the glow of new motherhood.

Everything will work out …

I sighed.
I hope that whisper is you, God, and not just my hormonal imagination.

“Okay, Andrew.” I closed my eyes and leaned against the bathroom door, feeling his unwavering presence behind it. “I will.”

BREATHE, JANA. BREATHE.

Never mind that scheduling a meeting only weeks before downsizing was senseless. Morale was shot to death, but welcome to Corporate America … our regional meeting ended after two grueling days of bullshit. As luck would have it, my flight was canceled due to an engine malfunction (glad I dodged that bullet), and the next option was delayed for three hours. My region’s human resources representative, Kevin Matthews, waited on his delayed flight in the terminal next to mine after gracing our team with his presence at our meeting to discuss retirement plan changes.

My collection of documentation rested in my rolling bag, and I re-read through each record as I eyed Kevin nervously. Wondering if I were insane for opening my mouth, I hoisted myself out of the uncomfortable chair I’d benched next to the restrooms, my home away from home during trimester three when urine flowed freely.

“Hi, Jana,” Kevin greeted with charisma, politely assisting me as I took the seat beside him. “What’s up?” Maybe forty, Kevin resembled Matthew McConaughey, but shockingly single and never married.

“Kevin, I need to discuss something with you in confidence.” I didn’t feel much like small talk. “Do you have time?”

Please don’t tell Jeff. He will make my life even more miserable,
I pleaded silently.

Kevin’s eyes communicated that he wanted to decline, but he was trapped.

“Okay,” he said slowly, a knowing look spreading across his rugged features. “What do you need to discuss? Our conversation stays between us.” Sensing I meant business, he reluctantly tucked his
Golf Digest
in his Covington Company backpack.

“After doing everything I can to rectify the situation, I need to report that I am being discriminated against,” I spoke slowly, concentrating adamantly to keep my tone emotionless. “My manager flat out suggested that my position may not be best for me now that I am becoming a parent…”

Kevin broke in. “Whoa. Could this be a misunderstanding?”

Regroup, Jana. Regroup.

“No,” I replied. “There’s a lot more—you’ll see when I explain…”

“Okay, go on.” I wondered why he wasn’t taking notes or something. His iPad lay dormant in his lap.

“Despite my best efforts to perform exceptionally, Jeff constantly gives me ‘needs improvement’ ratings, which I never received prior to my pregnancy. I am currently ranked number six of seventy.” It dawned on me that he
still
wasn’t writing or typing. “Jeff said that if I got a severance, that meant more time to spend with my baby.”

“Do you really think your pregnancy has anything to do with this conflict?” Kevin asked warily. He darted his baby blues around the airport, as if worried someone were listening.

Are you serious? Are you even listening?
The throbbing headache that entangled my thoughts must have resulted from my blood pressure skyrocketing.

“Yes, I do. I never had these ‘issues’ in my previous position, prior to my pregnancy.”

“You have not been in your position long.” Kevin’s tone reeked of something almost cheerful. “I think this situation will improve.” He diverted his attention back to the calorie information on the back of his smoothie.

Improve? When? I’m going to get the axe in a few weeks!

Swallowing the escalating agitation that threatened to break free, I continued. “My customers have informed me that Collin and Jeff indicate I won’t be back after I have the baby. I’ve never mentioned quitting and don’t intend to.”

Kevin’s silence was deafening. After an eternity of awkwardness, he spoke slowly and corporately … once again refusing to truly address the issue. “A ‘needs improvement’ is not necessarily negative. Things will improve.”

Yes, you SAID that.

“Kevin, perhaps I’m not making myself clear.”

I proceeded to explain in detail the events of the past few months, outlying recorded dates and times of specific instances.

Kevin straightened his tie and looked me in straight in the eye as our conversation became more uncomfortable. He tried
really
hard not to let his eyes wander to my chest, still boasting their estrogen-induced D-cups accentuated by my sundress. I figured I would enjoy them before breastfeeding sucked the life out of them.

He cleared his throat and gave his best effort to convey authority. “We certainly do not want you to feel as if you have to document everything that’s going on. We value our employees, and that’s not the culture that we want to create here at Covington.”

“I don’t want that either. I could determine no other action to take at this point…”

A curly-haired baby, probably nine months old, screamed at the top of his lungs behind us. The poor mother, her hair sticking out at unnatural angles and her Old Navy shirt littered with baby’s leftovers, tried desperately to hush the child by patting him on the back. Kevin and I both whipped our heads around at the interruption. He furrowed his brow and scowled.

The young woman shrugged helplessly, apologizing with her eyes.

I granted her a sweet smile. “It’s okay, really.”

Relieved, she returned my smile.

Kevin swiveled around quickly as the baby’s screams downgraded to muffled sobs, his eyes falling to my humongous abdomen. I could hear his mental jargon, likely agreeing with Jeff that mothers should stay home with their babies. Out of the workplace, and preferably absent from public places like airports.

“Now, a ‘needs improvement’ mark really isn’t bad,” Kevin continued in a patronizing drawl that prompted an urge to slap him, which I fought off. “After all, we
all
have things to work on.”

My heart sank and my relentless heartburn, a gift of pregnancy, worsened as my suspicions were confirmed that he was simply another member of the boys’ club. This was not his first rodeo. Without a doubt, management dealt out “Needs Improvement” ratings to get rid of their latest targets, and Kevin
knew
it.

This is pointless.
I might as well have flipped him off and comforted myself at the Cinnabon within walking distance.

“I completely agree that we can all improve, but don’t you think it’s strange that all of a sudden I am below par in areas I excelled in prior to my pregnancy?”

No answer.

I’d had enough.

Clenching my fists, my voice possessed an aggression that stemmed from a part of me I’d never met. “Kevin, tell me what else I can
do
. My numbers are above goal, but I need my subjective ratings to reflect my efforts. I am being treated unfairly by my manager, but I am
confident
that I have earned the right to keep my job! I will
not
put up with it anymore.”

I folded my arms tightly and felt my chin lift with natural confidence.

His expression registered shock at my defiance.

Wow! Was that
me
? I sounded like a badass. Jana Cook, ass-kicking and taking names. Yeah.
Thank you, Grace Thomas Milton, for the years of listening in your shadow as you took the world by storm.

Kevin raked his hands through his hair. The more he talked, the less he looked like Matthew McConaughey to me. “Perhaps this is a misunderstanding.”

Yes, dipshit, you already said that.

“
You know, Jeff came to us very highly recommended…” he continued.

“Delta Flight 1032 to Orlando, Florida, now boarding Group 4 customers. Please board immediately. We apologize for the delay.” The glaringly loud announcement made my ears hurt.

Kevin jumped to his feet. “Well, that’s me.” He shuffled around in his backpack and retrieved his copy of
Golf Digest
. Tiger Woods stared back at me, his wide-mouthed smile front and center. I wondered how much Elin got out of their divorce after his sex addiction deal.

I refused to let Kevin shove this under the rug without a fight. Bravely, I steadied to my feet and grabbed his arm. “What happens next?’

He stopped in his tracks. “After creating a report, I will give you a call to discuss next steps.” Dismissively, he waved and trotted away. “Have a safe flight, Jana.”

I nodded curtly.
Sure, Kevin. Thanks for listening to poor, pregnant Jana, the newest problem to dispose of. Thanks ahead of time for doing a whole lot of nothing.

Only weeks stood between me and the day the fate of my career would be revealed. Merry freaking Christmas from Covington Company.

I glanced at my watch and suppressed a groan. Sighing, I bounded toward the nearest restroom to pee again before sulking through the next few hours of waiting to board my flight.