Chapter 3 - Walking the Plank
The sun was barely peeking over the skyline when I arrived back at Vance Media Group the following morning. I wanted to get in and get out before the floor filled up with account executives and interns, but corporate humiliation rarely allows for clean exits.
As the elevator chimed on the fourteenth floor, the doors slid open to reveal a bustling floor. Gavin had called a mandatory all-hands emergency meeting for 8:30 AM. Everyone was already there.
The moment my sneakers hit the polished slate tile, the chatter died down. It was like walking into a wake where you were the corpse.
Brenda, the receptionist who had traded jokes with me every morning for four years, looked at me with wide, apologetic eyes and immediately glued her gaze to her computer monitor. Two junior copywriters I had mentored stepped back into a cubicle bay, pretending to study a dry-erase board. Nobody wanted to be caught standing too close to the man Gavin Vance had made an example of.
I walked toward my corner cubicle. Resting on my chair was a single, flat-packed brown cardboard box.
I didn't turn on the monitor. I didn't check my inbox. I just began mechanically taking down the pictures of Lily and Maya at the beach, the framed drawing Maya had made of me wearing a superhero cape, and my college degree.
"Look who decided to show his face."
The voice dripped with arrogant amusement. I froze, my hand clutching a glass paperweight my father had given me when I landed my first corporate job.
Gavin Vance stood in the opening of my cubicle, leaning against the fabric partition with his hands buried in the pockets of his tailored Italian suit. His hair was slicked back with expensive pomade, his smile sharp as a razor. Behind him hovered Todd Miller, the sycophantic junior director who had taken my presentation materials yesterday after I didn't show up.
"I gave you until noon to clear your junk, Lawson," Gavin sneered, checking his gold watch. "Nice to see you're actually on time for once. Pity that punctuality skipped yesterday’s twenty-million-dollar presentation."
"I'm packing, Gavin," I said quietly, keeping my voice level. "I'll be out of your way in ten minutes."
"Make it five," Gavin replied, his eyes narrowing. "You cost this agency the biggest account in its history. Sterling Enterprises walked out of the conference room because you weren't here to deliver the creative strategy you locked away in your encrypted drive. You embarrassed me. You embarrassed this entire firm."
"A woman was dying in a burning car, Gavin!" I snapped, turning to face him, unable to suppress the righteous anger bubbling inside me. "She would have died if I kept driving! Does that mean absolutely nothing to you?"
Gavin chuckled—a dry, soulless sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "We aren't the Red Cross, Mark. We are a marketing firm. If you wanted to play superhero, you should have applied to the fire department. In the real world, winners close deals, and losers get left behind on the asphalt. Finish packing your garbage and get off my floor."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the main conference room, leaving Todd to shoot me a condescending smirk before trailing after his master.
May you like
My hands shook with rage as I jammed my notebook and pens into the box. I felt small. I felt discarded. I felt like four years of hard work had been ground into dust under the heel of an unfeeling sociopath.
I taped the bottom of the box, gathered my coat, and took one last look at the desk where I had poured so much of my youth and energy. With a heavy breath, I lifted the box and turned toward the lobby, completely unaware that down on the street below, a convoy of black armored SUVs had just pulled onto the curb.
