GFC - Redundancy has its own acronym

This piece is Fiction, and still... it’s way too close to home.


Shave. Downsize. Rationalize. Economise. Cut back. Reshape. Trim the fat.
They all mean the same thing to her.

I watch her from the other side of the office. She’s working solidly, industriously. She’s so lovely too, just a nice person to chat to, you know?

It’s much like a traffic accident unfolding as the Director approaches her.... something bad is about to happen but I can’t look away. The room blurs around her figure at the desk, like there is not another soul in the room but her, the Director, and myself watching intently from the other side. He stands by her and she looks up, not fearful, but her eyes widen with reserved curiosity. He speaks and walks briskly away, and she rises to follow him.
Minutes pass.

She does not come back and someone whispers that she has popped outside. I want to give her support. But I don’t know her that well, sure she’s lovely, she’s just a nice person to talk to, you know?
And what does one say? I’m glad that it’s you and not me? No. But it’s all that I can think. “I’m glad it’s not me”.

She is back. Face lowered. She has been crying but does not want anyone to see. I want to cry for her. She sits back at her desk, clearly confused as to what to do now. The shoulders are trembling – I think she is angry now, and I can almost feel the heat steaming off her. I can’t not do something and so I walk over to her desk. “Are you ok?” She is startled, more upright than before, and she is hoping that I didn’t notice. She doesn’t look up.
But she nods.
“I’m glad its not me”
I’m confused for a moment, but then she turns her face up toward me. There is pity swimming in the torrents.
“We need to chat Kaye, have you got a moment? You’re so lovely too, such a nice person to talk to...you know?”

.