A Second Bite at the Apple Read Online Free

thinking. We’re also thinking, Don’t get rid of me. Get rid of her. Or him. But not me .
    â€œI think it would be best if I spoke to each of you one-on-one to discuss your future here, and the future of The Morning Show .”
    She drags her eyes across the newsroom and back again, until they land on me.
    â€œSydney,” she says. “Why don’t we talk in my office?”
    As much as I try to tell myself that everything will be okay—that she wants to discuss the new duties I will assume and the cuts to my 401(k) match—I know from the pitying look in her eyes that we will not be discussing any of those things. We will be discussing something far worse. And everyone in this newsroom knows it.

CHAPTER 3
    â€œHave a seat,” Linda says, gesturing to the smooth, gray chair across from her desk.
    I lower myself into the chair, gripping the cool, metal armrests for support.
    â€œAs you know, the network is going through some major changes,” she says. “And one of those changes is to consolidate operations in the Washington bureau.”
    I nod soberly as my throat begins to close.
    â€œThey have decided to combine several of the producer and reporter roles and enhance our digital presence. As such, they are eliminating all of the associate producer and producer positions for The Morning Show .”
    A wave of nausea crashes over me. “All of them? Then . . . who is going to produce the morning segments?”
    Linda presses her lips together and clears her throat. “Charles.”
    â€œCharles?” Linda nods. “What about Melanie?”
    â€œMelanie will maintain some of her production duties, along with helping to maintain The Morning Show ’s digital presence. It’s where the business is heading.” Linda folds her hands together and places them on her desk. “But, unfortunately, this means your position here is no longer needed.”
    A second wave of nausea knocks me over the head. This can’t be happening.
    I strain to speak through the ever-shrinking opening in my throat. “Is this . . . is this because I let Charles wear skis this morning?”
    Linda rumples her brow and stares at me quizzically. “I—sorry?”
    â€œThe live shot this morning. When Charles knocked over the camera.”
    Linda slowly shakes her head, and from her expression I gather she did not see Charles’s skiing fiasco. “No,” she says. “This is purely a business decision. I hope you understand.”
    I try to come up with a response, but at the moment I cannot construct complete sentences. Besides, what am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to affirm her declaration, to say, Yes, of course I understand? That would be a lie. I don’t understand. I’ve worked my butt off for four years. Frankly, if it weren’t for me, Charles would probably have the network embroiled in some nasty lawsuit.
    â€œYou’ll need to clear out your desk and leave the building within the hour,” she says.
    I look at my watch. “Within the hour? ”
    â€œI’m sorry. This isn’t my decision. It’s company policy.”
    I start to get up from my chair, but then I remember something I read for a recent unemployment story we did. “What sort of severance package should I expect?”
    â€œUnfortunately, due to the financial strains on the network, the severance isn’t as generous as it once was. You’ll receive payment for your work through today, and then one month’s salary—a week for each year you worked here.”
    I do the math in my head. That’s barely enough to cover my rent, especially given how far behind I am on payments, thanks to some absurdly expensive oral surgery two months ago that my insurance didn’t cover. Forget spending the money on anything else, like food or heating or other such luxuries.
    Linda reaches into her file drawer and hands me a thick packet.