The fluorescent lights at Meridian Industrial Solutions had a way of making every Monday feel exactly like the one before it.
I had spent 32 years under those lights.
That morning, I sat with my reading glasses low on my nose, reviewing production reports beside a framed photo of my late wife, Rose.
She had been gone six years, but her picture still sat where it always had, smiling at me like she knew I would work myself too hard and come home late anyway.
I tapped my pen against the desk and studied the numbers on the screen.
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I immediately decided I needed a break because my mind was foggy after working with these numbers for hours.
At ten, I went to refill my water bottle and spotted Richard, my manager, at the end of the corridor. He was moving fast, talking to a man in a dark suit I didn't recognize.
The stranger carried a leather portfolio and was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Richard.
"Richard," I called. "Got a minute?"
He looked up, and our eyes met.
Then, just as quickly, he looked away.
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"Not now, Bennett. I'm late."
He kept walking.
The man beside him glanced back at me once.
I stood there a second longer than I should have, water bottle in hand, a strange feeling settling into my stomach.
Still, I told myself I was imagining things.
An hour later, Richard's assistant called.
"Bennett, Richard would like to see you in his office. Now, please."
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The walk down the hallway felt longer than it ever had. My palms were damp by the time I reached his door.
HR was already there.
That was when I knew.
Richard sat behind his desk, fingers folded, all polished and calm. Beside him sat Carla from Human Resources with a manila folder.
"Bennett," Richard said. "Have a seat."
I stayed standing for a second, then sat slowly.
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Richard cleared his throat. "The company has decided to restructure the department."
I stared at him. "Restructure."
"Yes."
"And where do I fit in that restructuring?"
Carla slid the folder toward me. "Your position is being eliminated effective today."
I looked from her to Richard. "Today?"
"Yes," she said quietly. "We're prepared to offer a severance package."
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I opened the folder.
The number inside was so small I actually thought I had misread it.
I looked again.
Then I laughed once, because if I hadn't, I might have shouted.
"This is a joke."
Richard's face did not move. "It's our final offer."
"Thirty-two years," I said. "I gave 32 years to this place, and this is what I get back."
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"Bennett," Carla began, "please understand this isn't personal."
I turned to her. "If you throw a man out of the building five years before retirement, it's personal."
Then I looked back at Richard.
He still would not quite meet my eyes.
That hurt more than I expected.
"Look at me," I said.
He did, finally, but only for a second.
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He was not looking guilty or ashamed. Instead, he looked fearful.
That was the only reason I got up without saying something I couldn't take back.
I packed my desk in silence.
The whole floor seemed to know by then. Conversations died when I stood up. People suddenly found reasons to look at their screens, their paperwork, or the floor.
I put Rose's photo in a box. Then, the brass desk clock she had given me on my 20th anniversary at Meridian. Then the mug Diane, my assistant, bought me one Christmas that said, "World's Most Stubborn Engineer."
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My hands shook by the time I got to the framed service plaque.
Diane stood near the printer, pretending to sort papers. Her eyes were red.
"Diane," I said quietly.
She looked up.
"Tell me what's going on."
Her mouth trembled. "Bennett..."
"Please."
She swallowed hard and looked away. "I can't."
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"You can't, or you won't?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
She turned and walked fast toward the restroom before I could stop her.
A few minutes later, Hank from shipping passed by, squeezed my shoulder, and muttered, "This ain't right."
I grabbed his wrist lightly. "Then tell me what is going on."
He looked terrified.
"I'm sorry, Bennett," he whispered. "I can't lose my job, too."
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That word sat with me all the way home.
The months that followed were the kind that scrape a man hollow.
