Page 16 of Dear Debbie

After what feels like an interminable pause, Mrs. McCauley nods. She smiles up at me. “You can go inside, Mr. Mullen.”

Even though I have been given permission to enter, Mrs. McCauley jumps up to get ahead of me, and she knocks on the door one final time, waiting for Ken to grant us permission before she opens the door for me. Ken is sitting behind his desk, a stack of papers in front of him, in roughly the same exact position he was in the last time I was in his office several months ago.

I only wear a tie on occasions when I know I’ll be interacting with Ken, but he always wears one, in addition to a suit jacket. I’d always thought that if I started losing my hair, I’d shave my head like a lot of men my age do, but Ken has been balding the whole time I’ve known him, and he has not gone that route. The entire top of his head is shiny and free of hair, but there are still remnants of his gray hair along the crown of his head. It makes him look far older than his fiftysomething years.

“Mullen,” he says. “What’s this about?”

His office isn’t huge, but it’s at least big enough for a couple of chairs in front of his desk. However, he doesn’t offer me the opportunity to sit, and I don’t take it. This will be easier standing anyway.

“Ken,” I begin, wiping the sweat from my palms onto the legs of my pants. They are damp enough to leave a stain. “I’ve been working here for ten years now. Almost eleven. And…I’ve been thinking a lot about my future at this firm.”

Ken narrows his eyes as he folds his arms across his suit jacket. He leans back in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face. “Is that so?”

Remember, you are a valuable part of this company. He won’t want to lose you.

“I like working here,” I say, plowing forward, my voice wobbling, “but when I first started here, you mentioned the possibility of partnership sometime in the future.”

Ken’s expression gives nothing away. “That was a long time ago.”

“Maybe,” I say, “but if anything, the company is bigger than it was back then. I’ve been a loyal member of the firm, and I could be an asset to you as a partner.” After a pause, I add, “Sir.”

Ken rubs his chin. “No,” he says. “I don’t see it.”

What? It feels like the wind was suddenly knocked out of me.

“Ex…excuse me?” I stammer.

“You do well enough as a worker bee,” he says thoughtfully. “But a leader? No, definitely not. Certainly not a partner.”

Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how much I wanted this partnership. I deserve this partnership. I’ve worked my ass off for this firm, and I don’t deserve to be treated as a worker drone. Plus, I can’t imagine going home to Debbie and telling her about this conversation. If Debbie were here, she would tell me that I deserve this promotion, and I should demand it.

“Listen,” I say with courage I didn’t know I possessed, “if you can’t consider me for a partnership, then maybe I should look for opportunities elsewhere.”

Ken snorts. “You think you’ll find a better job than this?”

“I’d rather not,” I hedge. “But if you’re telling me there’s no opportunity for advancement here, then…well, you can consider this my two weeks’ notice.”

Ken’s eyebrows shoot up. My legs have turned to liquid, but I keep my chin high in the air. Ken needs me, and he knows it. There’s no way he’s going to call me on my bluff.

“If that’s how you feel,” he says, “then I accept your resignation.”

It feels like the world has just dropped out from under me. I had imagined this conversation going a lot of different ways, but I never imagined it ending with my resignation. I can’t believe he’s willing to just let me walk out the door. I’m one of his busiest accountants—I have more clients than anyone else. And I never make mistakes. This place would fall apart without me.

“Ken,” I choke out. Maybe I can fix this. “I…I really value this company, and I’d prefer to stay…”

“You’re not getting a partnership, Mullen.” His eyes flick to the screen of his computer, as if he’s already tired of this conversation. “If you’d like to leave sooner than two weeks, be my guest.”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. What would I say anyway? Ken has already made up his mind. And I’d like to think I have too much dignity to ask for my job back five seconds after quitting.

“I’ll stay for the two weeks,” I murmur.

Ken nods, no longer looking at me at all. This conversation is over.

My head is spinning as I stumble out of Ken’s office. What just happened in there? Did I really just quit my job? How am I going to pay for my kids to go to college? What are we going to do about our mortgage? Our health insurance?

Oh Christ, what am I going to tell Debbie? She’s going to be furious.

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