Page 1 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

I t was one of those moments when Ella Baker felt like she was watching a movie but wasn’t at all. She stared at the talking heads on the Zoom screen, shocked at what she seemed to be hearing. She paused, waiting for the actual words. The ones that would make it definitive.

“So, with all of that being said, it’s with a heavy heart that I tell you that your position at Cornerstone Ideas has been eliminated.”

Eliminated . That meant fired. Canned. Ella blinked, playing back the words from Jim, the HR guy who often left the microwave door open in the break room.

But she still didn’t quite believe their meaning.

Maybe because her Friday morning working from home had played out like any other until an unexpected meeting had shown up on her calendar for late morning.

She’d been happily working, flipping between projects for multiple clients while sipping her second cup of mildly sweetened coffee.

This new development was an unthinkable record scratch.

“Are you sure?” she asked. The question was legitimate.

Her graphic designs had been a selling point for the company in so many of their advertising pitches.

Ella’s work spoke for itself. At least, she thought it did.

The problem? She’d never been the loudest designer in the room or the one who demanded her name be all over everything.

Perhaps the higher-ups were unaware of her connection to their most successful campaigns.

Jim nodded. “We are sure. Yes.”

“Hang on.” Ella swallowed and found her voice.

“I thought you said in your announcement last week that you’d concluded the layoffs.

I don’t understand.” She was positive the email they’d blasted to the company had reassured the remaining employees that they were safe.

She’d done a little chair dance, grateful to have survived but not exactly shocked.

Jim from HR watched her patiently from his side of the Zoom screen. Her manager, Marlene, shifted uncomfortably inside her separate square. Ella squinted inside her own. They were the dysfunctional Brady Bunch.

“That’s true. We should have met with you last week. It was an oversight on our part,” Marlene said.

They’d forgotten about her. Like bland wallpaper that faded into the background. Like Kevin from Home Alone . They’d passed right over her existence. “Seriously? You forgot to lay me off?”

Marlene had the decency to wince. “Things were a little chaotic last week, and you were lost in the shuffle.”

“Right. Well, I don’t suppose pointing out all I’ve done for the team will matter much.

” Her heart thudded. Ella had honestly wondered if this meeting might have been about a promotion, making her feel naive and stupid.

What was she supposed to do now exactly?

She had rent for this month and next, but then that was it.

Maybe her landlord would forget she existed, too.

“We value all of your contributions,” Jim glanced down at the form in front of him, “Ella.”

“Jim, did you just forget my name?”

“No. Of course not,” Jim said, scratching the back of his head.

“I think you totally did.” Ella balked. “I’ve worked down the hall from you for five years. I brought you pumpkin bread in a Christmas tree tin.”

“It was excellent,” he said. But his voice was too quiet to be believed.

“You’re not a good liar.”

Marlene shifted again, but said nothing.

This was the woman, the head of the art department, who Ella had bailed out time and time again.

She’d stayed up until all hours to make Marlene’s ridiculous last-minute deadlines.

It all seemed so fruitless now. Ella was a nameless, unemployed oversight with forgettable pumpkin bread.

“We want you to know that your work for the company was very much appreciated, and, unfortunately, we have to part ways,” Jim said. This was a script if she’d ever heard one.

“Thank you, I guess? I’m not sure what to say.” She sat back in her desk chair with a thud. “This feels like a speeding truck hit me when I wasn’t looking. You didn’t even buy me dinner, Marlene.” She couldn’t believe she’d said that last part out loud.

“It’s entirely normal to feel that way,” Jim said, employing his kind eyes, which she imagined they taught in HR school.

His tie was so boring. Blue with thick gray stripes.

Jim needed better ties, back to HR school for him.

“And we’ll leave you to peruse the exit package we’ve put together for you.

Take a look and let us know if you have any questions.

I’m always here. Oh!” Jim’s beady eyes lit up.

Perhaps he liked these kinds of meetings more than he let on.

“And go ahead and save the file to your personal devices because after confirmed receipt, we’ll be shutting off your email and access to Teams. Really, all of your access. To everything.”

“And we’ll need your badge,” Marlene said, leaning in toward the camera.

“You got it, Marlene and Jim ,” Ella said, emphasizing the names that she hadn’t forgotten. “I will save everything before I’m banished from the kingdom for all time.” Then, she remembered her morning. “How are you gonna make that deadline on the Harrison Glee account?”

“Oh.” Marlene’s eyebrows shot to the sky. “Were you working on that one?”

“I’m the project leader.”

Marlene frowned, perhaps just now understanding her misstep. Cue the panic. It was, after all, their biggest and most demanding account.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Ella said in a sympathetic voice similar to Jim’s.

She wasn’t usually this snarky, but the blind side had her scrambling for decorum.

After a few more scripted platitudes from Jim, Ella offered a half-hearted wave and exited the Zoom like a mouse lost in a maze.

She had no idea what to do next because she hadn’t expected any of this.

She felt like an absolute loser, and now she was that plus unemployed.

She’d call her parents, but they were in the middle of the Caribbean on their third international vacation of the year.

Her phone buzzed on the table next to her.

She half expected it to be Marlene calling to say this had all been a hysterical practical joke and to please keep working on the Harrison Glee project.

Instead, she saw it was Rachel, and thank God, because it made her feel instantly better, a testament to their bond.

“They forgot to fire me,” Ella said instead of hello.

“Holy shit.” A pause. “Does that mean you’re not fired?

” Rachel asked. “That’s good, right?” Rachel had been her best friend since they’d laughingly bonded over chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts in the dining hall their sophomore year of college.

Recognizing each other at a gay and lesbian mixer a week later had only sealed their friendship.

College had been an enlightening time for both of them as they came into their own, embraced their sexualities, and supported each other along the way.

However, they were undoubtedly different personality types.

Ella was quieter and more thoughtful regarding the things that came out of her mouth.

Rachel Lenoir was more impulsive. She lived unapologetically, rarely leaving a room full of people in the same condition she’d found them.

Rachel, with her gorgeous auburn hair, was more fashionable, social, and had always been more popular.

In their duo, she generally held the spotlight, and Ella was more than okay with that.

“No, I promise. I’m definitely fired, but they forgot to ax me in the chaos last week.

Can you believe that? It’s the worst way to be fired ever, as an afterthought.

That means no one was tossing and turning with guilt the night before.

No one even cared enough to notice the oversight.

I was a ghost at that company and didn’t even know it.

Can you hear that I’m in shock? I fucking am. ”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were let go?”

“I am, right now. It happened two seconds ago.”

“Wow. Then my timing is amazing. I wonder if we have one of those psychic bonds, and I just knew to call you.”

“We do. It’s clear now.” Ella buried her face in her hands before releasing it.

“So now I’m an unemployed loser who’s also, would you look at that?

Not having the best hair day.” She’d caught herself in the mirror, which was much harsher than Zoom.

With a quick finger comb, she attempted to tame her currently mutinous blond hair on its journey halfway to her elbows.

She needed a trim and maybe a few more defined layers.

Honestly, the neglect was on her. She’d put way more effort into her digital illustrations than her appearance these days.

Something that, now that she had time on her hands, maybe she’d remedy.

“Your hair will rebound, you gorgeous thing,” Rachel said. “I promise.”

“Not sure my ego will.” She shook out her chaotic hair, which miraculously helped.

“I honestly believed I was great at that job, but now I’m realizing they likely didn’t even know which designs were mine or Katrina’s, the girl who plays more Candy Crush than my mom.

” Then an awful thought struck. “Am I delusional about everything in life, or just my role with that company? Tell me the truth so I can cry an appropriate amount.”

“No, babe, you’re absolutely not. Everyone I know has been worried about layoffs.

The economy is a disaster. Companies are downsizing and taking shortcuts.

AI is terrorizing us all like a guy with a chain saw.

” She took a breath. “This is what I know. You’re a genius when it comes to that Apple pen thing you whip around your screen. I’m never wrong.”