A Day Like Any Other

A Day Like Any Other

By

Robin L. Soma-Dudley

Copyright© Robin Soma-Dudley 2012

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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This is a work of fiction. Any names, places, or characters are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people living or dead or locales are purely coincidental.

Chapter One

It was a day like any other day for Meg Gentry. She woke up, and did her 30 minutes on the treadmill while listening to her newest audio book on her iPod.

She took a shower, and fed Sounder her nine-year-old beagle. She never walked Sounder in the morning. Jeffery, her husband of almost nineteen years, had taken her with him on his three mile run and Kennedy, their nineteen year old bohemian dog walker, would be in around noon to take Sounder out.

Meg then dressed in a casual suit, usually black, put on her Tiffany jewelry, her custom wedding ring sporting a three-carat flawless diamond, and her designer shoes.

She then went down to the kitchen had her low carb cereal, which didn’t taste much better than woodchips. Not that Meg ate woodchips, but she was sure that woodchips was the equivalent of this cereal. She topped it with artificial sweetener and vanilla soymilk. Not that Meg liked that either, but Jeffery was on his health kick and it was just easier to join him rather than fight him on it.

Meg topped off her morning with a glance at the San Francisco Chronicle left on the table every morning, which was usually opened to the business page by Jeffery. After all, he had to get a jump on the day. Jeffery was a financial advisor, well actually he was a lawyer, but now he mostly did business dealings for some mysterious corporation in Hong Kong or someplace like that. Meg wasn’t sure, but she knew it paid well. They both got paid well. Meg was a buyer for one of the most profitable fashion retailers in the United States. They both worked hard and long hours, but it was worth it. Meg was 39 years old (soon to be 40) and all their hard work had afforded this house in Nob Hill, their son’s education at Stanford and all the designer clothes and accessories they could wear.

As Meg grabbed her Birkin bag and headed out the door, she knew it was going to be the same day as always.

Boy was she wrong.

Meg ran into her office ten minutes late. The line at Starbucks was ridiculous. She needed her caffeine. That was the one thing she wouldn’t give up. Since Jeffery had been on this health kick all they had at home was green tea and decaf coffee. And in her book both were disgusting.

I know. I know, Meg said rushing in throwing everything on the floor except her coffee. How many phone calls? Meg looked over at her assistant Jessica.

None. I don’t know what’s happening today, but all the jefe’s have been bottled up in the conference room.

Meg stared at Jessica while taking a large swig of her latte, no soy milk. What’s Christine saying? Christine was Kevin’s, the president of the company, administrative assistant. Meg knew that Christine and Jessica were smoking buddies.

Nada. She’s been in and out avoiding everyone and making copies, then walking back in.

Meg ran to her desk and dialed the phone, Let me see what Peggy has to say. Meg and Peggy had been best friends since their days in a management class at San Jose State. Their friendship started over the likeness of a name. They were both named Margaret. But the then Margaret Murphy was a Meg and the still Margaret Amis was a Peggy. A name connected them and made them life long friends. Sometimes, Peggy was the only friendly face in this cutthroat retail world, where you were only as good as your last sales increase.

Peggy Amis, dress buyer.

Peggy, it’s me, Meg said in a low voice.

Meg. Have you heard?

That’s what I was hoping to hear from you, what’s going on?

Well, Jamie had coffee with Kevin this morning and it seems that the higher ups are doing some changes.

Which higher ups?

Peggy slurped, sounding as if she was taking a drink. It was probably Red Bull, The New York heavies. Claude Steinberg is here.

Shit. Shit. Shit and me with another quarter loss.

Hey sweetie, you can’t help it. The jewelry business sucks. It’s all optional. No one buys optional in this economy.

Meg could imagine her friend with her perfect size 2 figure wearing some super fashionable dress, most likely Diane Von Furstenberg or Marc Jacobs. She knew Peggy’s highlighted and low lighted blonde hair was perfect as were her MAC enhanced lips, eyes and cheeks. She didn’t need any foundation because when they invented the term peaches and cream complexion they meant Peggy Amis. However, there would be some very important items missing from the ever fashionable Peggy Amis’s ensemble - jewelry. Yep, Meg’s livelihood.

Thanks, but I’m fucked. I know it.

Tsk. Tsk. Such language, Peggy said with a flip tone. Get your numbers together just in case. I gotta go. I’ve just been told Sri Lanka’s on the other line.

Meg put down the phone and buried her face in her hands. Three bad quarters and not a single designer showing a decent necklace on a model. All the earrings in Vogue were minuscule. Sure there were some great watches, but she bought jewelry and not just any jewelry, but costume jewelry. It was a trend business in a world of no trends and damn it, she needed a trend.

Meg sipped her latte again. Shit, she thought. She really needed something stronger, but she was sure that drinking at 9:30 am was a sure sign that you were headed down the path of ending up in a twelve step program.

She took a sideways glance at Jessica, who seemed to be checking her computer for something. She was probably reading her email or tweeting her boyfriend who worked in Linens. Meg felt antsy. No, she felt beyond antsy. She felt as if she could run a marathon and she hated running. The phone rang, breaking her out of her spell. Good, she thought maybe it was Peggy with some news, or it could be Mexico. Yeah, it could be the plant in Mexico.

She once again glanced at Jessica, who hung up the phone with the strangest look on her face.

Meg, they need you in the conference room.

Oh shit, she thought. Meg stood and smoothed down her Tahari black suit. She also smoothed her own blonde highlighted hair and glanced at the mirror to make sure her face wasn’t too shiny or her lipstick too faded. It was 9:35, how faded could she be. Oh God, obviously, really faded. She wiped her nose with an oil sheet and reapplied her Bobbi Brown pink lipstick to a perfect pout. Might as well look good while being tossed out with the garbage, she thought.

Good luck, boss lady, Jessica said with a forced smile. Meg glanced back giving her unenthusiastic thumbs up and marched to the conference room with dread.

Meg lifted her chin to hold her head high with a deep breath; she knocked on the door of the conference room. She was told to enter as she took quick order of the room. She knew immediately it wasn’t going to be good.

Kevin Long, the president of the company, was sitting between Karen Karol, head of HR and Claude Steinberg the CEO. Meg inhaled deeply again waiting for the next move.

Meg, Kevin said motioning to the chair. Sit.

I think I’d rather stand, her voice was surprisingly calm even though her hands were trembling.

Claude waved his hand in an almost dismissive manner, Sit, Mrs. Gentry.

The Mrs. Gentry startled her for a moment. She was usually only called this by Jeffery’s associates, her son Nelson’s teachers, and of course Kennedy, the nineteen year old bohemian dog walker.

Meg sat folding her trembling hands in front of her. She held them hoping the vultures wouldn’t notice them shaking. She was aware that the group were looking over papers and looking at smartphones, not paying attention to her at all. This pissed her off. Bullshit if she wasn’t going to let them take control of this situation. She was being tossed, so why not be tossed out on her own terms.

So get to the point. She knew there was no reason to prolong the agony. They looked up at her, startled that she dared to speak. She now gave Claude a long steady glance and his eyes stayed on her not showing a thing.

Meg, Kevin said in a very distant tone. Meg slowly moved her gaze to Kevin. She gave him a quick once over, seeing his solemn manner. Meg wanted to laugh. Hadn’t she been the one to train the junior buyer Kevin Long? She trained him well, so well, also giving him an exceptional recommendation only to watch him go up the corporate ladder right past her. She really didn’t mind, for she felt she had an ally. Huh, well that ally seems to have gone the way of Iran right now.

You’ve had some tough times, he continued averting his eyes to look at the paper in front of him.

Trend business is tough in this economy, Meg interrupted. She would have her say, like hell if she was going down without a bit of skirmish.

I know. But you know Meg, I like you. I’ve always liked you. You trained me well and I know you’ve done the same with some of the best and brightest in this company. However, business. Well, it is the business. Let’s see, you’ve been flat with your business two years in a row and this year, you’re down 5%.

But… Meg said while straightening herself readying for more than a skirmish now she was going for a fight. Like I said it’s a trend business and right now trends suck…

Oh cut the crap Kevin. She’s a grown up not some child, Claude Steinberg said suddenly. Meg looked startled at his words. She then gave him a hard look.

Claude continued, unphased by her stare, I’ll give you a trend Mrs. Gentry. The trend is that your business is in the crapper.

Ah, Meg wanted to go on, but really what could she say in retort? Her business was in the crapper.

Let us all be grownups here. You can take it. Listen Mrs. Gentry, and much like your shitty trend business, my business has been right there with you. I’ve had tough times, and I need to trim the upper management. I’m doing some changes and your department’s shrinking. Jewelry’ll have one buyer and well, you’re not it. I’ve explained it all in an email.

Meg sat wide-eyed. He didn’t just say what she thought he said. Did he? He didn’t say email, did he? She needed confirmation, So am I to understand that I’m being fired with no options. By email?

Claude waived off her comment, Oh you’ll have options, I’m giving you a real, and I mean real generous severance package. I’ve got a recommendation for you and a lifetime discount to the store. Take it now - this offer is only good now. Fight me and it’ll be gone before you can pout that pretty little mouth of yours.

But, Meg stopped speaking at once. She saw from their faces that it was what it was. Kevin looking around everywhere but at her. Karen filling in the paperwork, she guessed, for her to sign and then Claude with his no nonsense way to him. Suddenly she felt like Grenada after the Americans invaded, why fight and anyway a lifetime discount was nothing to pooh-pooh. And Claude called her pretty in a roundabout way.

Does that include employee extra discount days? Meg asked unwavering.

Kevin coughed with shock, Yeah, I guess.

Meg stood. Kevin cowered a little. Did he think she was going to get violent? Fine, but before I sign anything, may I ask one question?

Claude regarded her thoughtfully. He didn’t say anything just gave her a little nod.

Why me? I mean I’ve given my life to this company. Almost 20 years. So why me?

Listen sweetie, it’s no secret you married well. Your husband’s some high powered lawyer. House on Nob Hill, and that ain’t no knock off Birkin you’re tot’en. My wife has been on the list for one of those for three years. I mean three years. She nags me constantly. I only have one Hermes boutique in my stores, so you can guess. You’ll be fine.

For a moment Meg felt that it was a little unfair, she had a good life. But, she worked hard for it all. Also, one of Jeffery’s clients was well-positioned with the Maison d’Hermes so she got the bag. So she was also being fired because of a Birkin bag. Life just kept sucking.

Whatever, Meg sighed. Kevin let me borrow your Mont Blanc to sign.

Ah sure Meg, Kevin stammered.

Karen gave her the papers and Meg looked them over.

Oh God, Meg said suddenly.

What? Kevin asked in shock. His eyes automatically going to the pen.

Jessica. What about Jessica, my assistant?

Claude waived his hand again, Don’t worry about her. She’s the new Jewelry buyer.

Meg entered the office head held high with severance agreement in hand. She turned to Jessica who had just hung up the phone, probably from gloating and gave her a full on stare.

You little bitch. How long have you known?

Jessica batted innocent big brown eyes, I just found out. Right now I swear.

Meg chuckled, That’s such complete bullshit. Claude and Kevin moved way too fast. So how long have you been stabbing me in the back?

God, Meg. Get over yourself. Everyone in this company knows you’re a has been. You’re old. Way too old to be dealing with this type of business.

Old? What did that little bitch mean by old? She was only 39. Well actually it had been a year since her 39th and she was coming up on her 40th, but still, OLD? Since when did that become OLD? Meg shook her head in disbelief, I can’t believe you. I trusted you. I trusted you with every part of my business and you do this...

Jessica leaned back and looked at her finger nails, Sorry, dude.

Meg wanted to slap her young face, You know what? Fuck off. You can have this fucking job. Now get out of here while I get my stuff together.

Chapter Two

Peggy handed her another latte while sitting across from Meg. She was on her third one now, certain she wouldn’t sleep tonight.

I’m a ‘has been’ Peggy, Meg motioned her finger to perform air quotes. Everyone knows that I am over. I’m only 39, well I’ll be 40 next week, but still? I’m not ‘a has been’, am I? Old. What the fuck? This isn’t the 1950’s. I mean I just read an article calling 50 the new 30. So if that’s the case then I’ve just graduated from high school.

Peggy wrinkled her nose, High school? Who wants high school? I want college, now that was the life. Anyway, Jessica’s young and stupid they’ll eat her alive. According to your scale she’s like a ten year old.

Meg sipped her drink, nodding. She wasn’t crying. She was in shock, I’ve been with that company for over 19 years. I’ve given them everything. Then poof, some young bitch with 34 double Ds gets my job. She’s a ten year old with really big boobs.

Peggy snorted, I don’t think her bust size got her the job.

You don’t do you? Have you seen the way she waves those things in front of Kevin? My God he’s the only straight man in retail for like twenty miles and those boobs are like two giant lighthouses signaling at him like he’s some wayward ship.

Peggy snorted even louder. For all her sophistication and charm, Peggy had this horrible laugh that started with a snort and ended with hacking. Yet, men didn’t seem to mind and neither did Meg. Peggy’s laugh, no matter how awful, was part of her like her pert little nose, her fingers, and her ability to pick up men with a blink of an eye, Meg. Stop. Shit, the girl it isn’t that bad.

What do you care? You’ve still got your job.

Well, I told you three years ago, I told you to get out of Costume Jewelry. I told you to go to Domestics, remember towels. Everyone needs towels.

I’d fuck that up too.

Don’t do that. It’s the caffeine talking. You’re not a screw up. And you’re not a ‘has been,’ Peggy did the same finger motion. And you’re not OLD. Look how beautiful you are. You’ve got a gorgeous husband, a great house and a son at Stanford. You’ve got great life. You’ll get another job.

Meg sighed, Oh don’t forget the Birkin bag. I’ve got a Birkin. What kinda fucking man fires you because of your handbag?

Well, Peggy said in a measured voice. A man in retail with an overbearing trophy wife. Did you try offering him the bag?

Ah, no, do you think that would work? Meg sighed again. "I just don’t know what to do. I’ve done nothing else. I majored in Political Science and barely at that. All I’m able to do is retail. I mean, think about