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“I’ll give it to you now,” Linda said quickly. “How does … five percent sound?”
“It sounds insulting as hell.”
“Ten percent, then—”
“Shut-up. There’s no amount of money you could throw at me to make me stay. I’m beyond done here.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Just watch me.” Paige turned to her computer and pulled up a new Word document and began typing.
“Damn it, Paige. It’s going to take me weeks to find a replacement!”
Paige knew it would probably take way longer than that, but said, instead, “You better hope not. Because until you do, you’re going to be putting in a lot of extra hours, especially on Saturdays.”
Done typing, Paige hit print and a few seconds later she was signing her new, married name on the bottom with a flourish. Then, with supreme satisfaction, she handed Linda the simply worded document. “Here’s my official letter of resignation for my personnel file. You should probably post my job immediately … and maybe leave out the part about brutally long hours, crap pay, and a boss who doesn’t do shit when she bothers to come into the office, other than complain to her employees who work harder than she does, that they’re not working hard enough—and that they leave ‘early’ on Saturday nights,” Paige finished with a heavy layer of venom.
Looking like she was on the verge of having a stroke, and avoiding all eye contact with Paige, Linda got to her feet and walked to the door, noticeably unsteady.
“One last thing,” Paige said to Linda’s back. “I promised my friend, Jules, that when I finally did quit my job, I’d tell you to fuck off twice. So, fuck off. And then fuck off again.”
After Linda left, Paige took a deep breath and waited for panic to kick in—or regret, or something—but it never did. All she felt was complete and utter peace.
“Holy shit, that felt good,” she murmured, before picking up her phone and texting Jules.
PAIGE: You’ll NEVER guess what I just did.
JULES: Well, you’re at work, so it probably wasn’t very interesting …
PAIGE: Wrong. I just quit my job and told Linda to fuck off twice!
JULES: Wait … for REAL? You’re not just messing with me?
PAIGE: For REAL.
JULES: Congratulations!
JULES: But you were supposed to get me on speaker phone so I could hear it.
PAIGE: I’m sorry. It was so spur-of-the-moment, I didn’t get a chance to.
JULES: Well, you’ll have to give me all the details over drinks tonight as we celebrate.
PAIGE: Over drinks tomorrow night. I have to give David all the details and celebrate with him tonight.
JULES: Ugh, you’re SO married.
JULES: Fine. Tomorrow night.
When Paige went out to tell Andrea the news, Paige was a little surprised at how upset her assistant was.
“No, you can’t leave,” she declared. “I won’t let you.”
“I’m sorry, but I am.”
Behind her Edna Mode glasses, Andrea’s eyes looked slightly panicked as she rushed around her desk and hugged Paige. “Then take me with you.”
Paige almost chuckled at the heartfelt, but dramatic plea. “I can’t,” she said with regret.
