You're Fired!

She checked her phone again and found no messages. She poured herself a glass of wine and called Henry's phone several times but got no answer. She couldn't bring herself to eat anything so just waited restlessly for him to show up.

It was after 10:00pm when she saw the headlights swing into the driveway, and as upset as she was she decided this was not the time for a showdown about how thoughtless and insensitive he had been by not calling, not answering, and being so late. She was going to play the supportive wife if it killed her. Right until he stumbled in the door.

<><><><><>

I had driven home carefully, taking side streets to avoid the attention of law enforcement. I didn't think I was drunk...anymore...but it still made sense to be careful. I parked the car next to Angela's and walked, or rather stumbled, in the front door. Angela did not look happy.

"Are you drunk, Henry?"

I looked her square in all 6 of her eyes.

"Not anymore. I was drunk a few hours ago but I'm pretty sure it's worn off."

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

She led me into her, what used to be our, bedroom and began stripping me out of my clothes. I had tried protesting that she had taken me to the wrong room but she ignored me and just kept pulling me. She stripped me fully naked and, if I wasn't mistaken, inspected my nether regions a little too closely. I may have been impaired but I wasn't stupid.

"Pretty easy to assume you're being cheated on, huh?

She knew I had figured out what she was up to and had the decency to at least look a little embarrassed.

"Well, you were drunk..." she said, like that explained it.

I climbed into bed, not caring about the fact that it was the bed she and I used to share, and I was asleep before she climbed into bed with me.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a pounding headache and my wife riding me for all she was worth. I intended to resist but it felt too damn good and I was too damn horny, not to mention too damn tired, to work up any real objection. So, I decided to join in, grabbing her hips and moving us into a rhythm that was so familiar to both of us.

"Squeeze my tits, baby."

From the very beginning Angela liked her breasts to be treated roughly. Not to the point of drawing blood or even pain, but she said she didn't feel much when I touched them gently. It took us some practice back in the day but I finally got a sense of how hard she wanted me to be with them and I had gotten quite good at it. Tonight was no exception.

I pinched her nipples and she gasped in pleasure as I started to manhandle her b-cups while I thrusted into her and she pushed back on to me. She came within seconds of the boob play starting, but as soon as it subsided she was right back at it again. I think she believed if she stopped that I'd end this and she wasn't going to take that chance.

She got off a good 3 times and I think had a couple of smaller ones as well. I came in her once, followed immediately by her climbing off and sucking me hard again, and then climbing back on again. I was lost in the moment by that point and never bothered trying to bring things to an end. This didn't solve things in any way but who knew when I might get some again so I took advantage. I'd deal with the aftereffects in the morning.

<><><><><>

I was up earlier than Angela and put on a pot of coffee. Mostly I was wondering how best to handle the events of last night. I had to make it clear that my acquiescence last night was not the problem solver that she might think it was. As it turns out, I needn't have worried.

She stumbled out of bed about an hour after I did. She didn't say a word until she took that first sip of coffee herself. I just sat quietly at the table reflecting on the night's events and wondering how to bring it up. She did it first.

"Henry, I'm not stupid. I realize that what happened last night meant very little as far as our...situation goes. It was just two people that needed to get off doing it with the only other person in the world they could. I wouldn't cheat on you and don't honestly think you'd cheat on me, despite my making sure of that last night. So, consider that understood."

I nodded and just said, "Okay."

"So, do I dare hope you got drunk yesterday in celebration of a job offer from Capstar?"

I smiled ruefully as I remembered the previous day's events. It was most definitely not a celebration that led me to some nameless local bar that I probably couldn't find again. I'd had high hopes going into the interview, not just for getting a job but for restoring a little of the pride that had been taken from me. But it wasn't to be.

"Nah, no job offer. The whole thing was just one big setup."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, as you saw I was dressed to the nines to impress. The interview was scheduled with Arthur Cross, their version of Jack Adams. There were some other yes-men in the room but the floor was his."

"Sounds typical."

"We talked at length about my work history and he seemed very positive. I was getting a good feeling about it, especially since we didn't really even talk about my separation from ABG. I was anticipating either an offer or at least setting up a return interview but then Cross looked me right in the eye. 'Henry,' he said, 'while this all looks really good I'm afraid we just don't have a place here for someone that can't even satisfy his own wife's needs.' The whole interview had been a long set up just so he could deliver that line."

"Honey, I'm sure he didn't waste your time and his by doing something so juvenile."

I turned to look at her.

"I would have thought so, too, but I realized what was going on when the entire room burst into laughter and one of the peons said to him, 'I can't believe you actually said it'. So, yeah, that's exactly what happened. I've become the area's laughingstock."

"Baby, I'm so..."

"Don't say you're sorry, Angela. I don't wanna hear it. You've never gone to the house of anyone else ABG has fired and apologized to them, and we both know why. Because you're not sorry. You said yourself you made a business decision and you'd obviously do it again. So just save the apologies."

"Henry, I'm not here as the CEO of ABG. I'm here as your wife and I AM sorry for what those immature assholes did."

"Yeah, well they were right weren't they."

"No, they weren't, not how they meant it. Last night was certainly proof of that."

"Well, at least I'm good for something."

"Those jerks mean nothing. Just get back on the horse and keep looking. You're too good for that shitty little operation anyway."

"But not good enough for you, huh?"

And with that I walked away from her pleas to come back and talk. I had somehow managed to keep my cool as I left the Capstar offices. I didn't want them to know how direct a hit they had scored with that little stunt. They had managed to easily reinforce my feelings of inadequacy and failure, so even though I didn't break down in their offices I didn't get very far down the street before having to pull off the road and get control of myself. After that I found a bar that had just opened and I spent the entire day huddled in a corner booth feeling sorry for myself.

A few extra-marital opportunities did float my way, including one rather spectacular blonde that I'm pretty sure was a pro, but I never seriously considered doing anything. I talked with a few ladies but never made even a little contact. My wedding ring was displayed prominently and they all soon went on their way. I already felt bad enough about myself without adding that to the mix.

I stopped drinking about 7:00pm and ordered some food from the bar that was decent, and that helped absorb some alcohol. My phone rang and chimed with messages several times, all from Angela, but I ignored them all. I just wanted to be alone.

When I finally felt sober enough to drive I got up and went outside. I walked around in the fresh air for a while to clear my head and think about what I was doing. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have driven, even though I doubt I would have blown illegal, but I made it home okay.

The conversation with Angela at an end, I made my way once again to my bedroom. I hung my suit, making a mental note to check it more closely in the morning to see if it needed dry cleaning, and crawled into bed.

<><><><><>

Back at ABG

"I don't know what to do, Mel. How on earth do I remain positive and supportive of him in his job search? How do I prop him up and tell him how good he is and that he deserves a great job when I fired him for not doing well enough?"

"I don't know, boss. Maybe that's why I never got married. I don't see it as my job to make a man feel better about himself."

"Not even when you're the one that caused him to feel bad about himself?"

"Nah, I just tell them to suck it up. Again, probably why I never got married."

Angela leaned back in her chair and stared at some invisible spot on the ceiling for a couple of minutes while Melissa sat patiently. Angela had a habit of silently thinking for several minutes on various topics so this was not unusual. What was unusual was her inability to see a way through or around the problem. It had been that skill that got her the CEO position in the first place.

"Mel, I really thought this was gonna go differently. I expected him to be upset about being fired but that was it. I'm really afraid for my marriage at this point."

"That's crazy, Angela. Henry loves you. He's just hurt right now and feeling a little depressed that he hasn't found a job yet. When he does it'll be fine and you'll probably be better for it."

"Says the woman who's never been married."

<><><><><>

It had been several weeks and tons of resumes. I was pretty sure the US Postal Service was going to actually turn a profit this year thanks to my job search. And I hadn't gotten a bite; not even a nibble. That humiliating experience at Capstar was the sum total of the results of my job search and I admit to becoming pretty depressed about the whole thing, but I resolved to keep pushing.

Then I got a call from a friend of mine. His name was Alex and he worked for Brinkley Enterprises, another area company structured similarly to ABG and to whom I had sent several resumes over the last few weeks. They were a company I had heard was actually hiring so I was perplexed at not having been granted so much as an interview. Alex didn't handle any hiring but I thought maybe he could give me a good word or something.

It was about 10:30 in the morning and I was ensconced in an intense game of online poker when he called and asked if I could meet him for lunch. I accepted. I mean, what else did I have that was so pressing.

We met at a local bar and grill and made with the pleasantries until our food arrived. We focused on lunch and the afternoon baseball game playing on the screen over the bar while we ate, and then he finally got to the reason behind the invite.

"Henry, I heard about what happened at Capstar. Those guys have always been assholes. Don't let them get to you."

"Yeah, I knew what kind of people they liked to hire going in, but I need a job so what choice did I have, you know?"

"I get it. But...now, try and take this from the place it's intended, all right. I'm your friend. That was a shitty thing those guys did, no one's arguing that, but..."

"But what?"

"The thing is...that's the general opinion around town."

"What is?

"That if you got fired by your own wife that, well, there's really no reason to take a chance and bring you on. I've talked to some of the hiring guys at Brinkley and they said no one's seriously considering any of your resumes. And they've heard that from other places around town, even those that are actively hiring."

That hit me hard. I had at least held on to the hope that these companies simply had no positions open, but to hear that I wasn't even being considered for actual jobs was a knife in my chest. I tried not to react right there in the restaurant but I also couldn't seem to bring myself to say anything in response. I just thought about what Alex had said.

When I thought I could manage it, I stood up, dropped a $20 on the table and left, thanking Alex for letting me know what was going on behind the scenes. I drove home and suddenly sober seemed like a bad idea.

I parked myself on the couch and attacked my beer supply with alacrity. I was well on my way through the 12-pack when Angela got home a little earlier than usual. She didn't realize the situation right away but it didn't take her long.

"Henry, I'm home."

"There she is!" I said with more enthusiasm and volume than was necessary. "The little woman!"

She looked around and saw the beer cans strewn about and had no trouble evaluating the scene. I told you she was smart.

"You're drunk."

"That I am. That...I...am."

"God, you stink. I can smell you from here. Did you even shower today?"

"Sure did. Just before I had lunch with Alex."

"You had lunch with Alex? What'd he have to say? Anything available over at Brinkley?"

"Sure, lots of things. They're hiring all kinds of people, including salesmen."

"That's great. Is Alex gonna get you in on that?"

"Nah, he doesn't do the hiring."

"I know that, baby, but I'm sure he has some connections, some influence."

"I'm sure he does, but not enough to get me a job. No, he was just letting me know that I had become the laughingstock of the sales industry around here and that no one is taking me seriously."

"What? You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am. It seems that getting fired by your own wife pretty much sends the message that you're worthless, at least as an employee. They'll hire kids out of college with no experience and people that haven't generated as much in sales in their whole lifetimes than I did in one of my best years, but old, useless Henry Weston isn't worth even a second look."

"I seriously doubt..."

"GOD DAMN IT, ANGELA!" I screamed, shutting her up in a big hurry. "Just fucking stop it, okay? Stop trying to make like you can't believe I can't get a job! You yourself fired me because I wasn't getting it done to your standards. My own fucking God damned wife fired me and yet can't seem to fathom that everyone else has the same opinion! You ruined my fucking career, Angela, for your own fucking job so quit trying to put some positive spin on it. There isn't one!"

I'm sure it was a combination of way too much alcohol and no food (at least not since lunch), plus the sudden release of anger and emotion, but suddenly I knew I was going to be sick. The closest place to go was out the door into the front yard so that's exactly what I did, barely making it out the door before my stomach contents made a rapid and violent reappearance. I fell to my knees as wave after wave came up from my stomach and splashed on to the lawn.

I felt Angela kneel beside me, trying to help and comfort me and mumbling some words of reassurance, but that just pissed me off and I threw myself away from her.

"Don't fucking touch me, Angela. You did this. No one else. You decided your job at ABG was more important to you than I was and completely destroyed me. Just keep your hands off of me. I'll take care of myself. Got it?"

"Yes, Henry. I got it. I...I'm..."

"Don't...fucking...apologize."

I pulled myself up to my feet and stumbled into the house. I made my way to my bathroom knowing I had a history of puking at least twice whenever I saw fit to do it at all. I locked the door and parked myself in front of the toilet, but to my surprise nothing else happened; not even the dry heaves.

I heard a tapping on the door as I sat there, followed by 'Henry, are you okay?'. Couldn't the bitch just leave me alone to die. Jesus!

"I'm not dead."

"Baby, please, I love you. We need to figure this out."

I didn't bother answering. What in the hell would've been the point? She was obviously in some fantasy land where she could fire her husband but everything in life would go on as it was. I just sat for several more minutes before it became too uncomfortable. I figured Angela had gone by now since I hadn't heard anything from outside the door for a while, so I opened the door to go to my room. I was wrong.

"Baby, I know you don't feel good, but we need to figure this out. We can't go on like this."

"Gonna fire me as your husband, too?"

"No, baby, I'm not. But I also don't wanna live like this the rest of our lives. I hurt you, I get that, but you have to believe that I really thought things would be okay. I would never have guessed it would go the way it has."

"Really?" I asked incredulously. "It never occurred to you that firing your own husband would lead to pain and mistrust in your marriage? You never thought that getting fired by my own wife would have negative effects on my psyche and self-worth? You never thought that the companies around here would pass on hiring someone that was fired his own wife? Christ, Angela, you're an incredibly intelligent woman. I refuse to believe you were actually that stupid."

I walked away from her yet again, something that was happening with more and more regularity. Then I did something really stupid, which I can only blame on all of the anger and frustration I was feeling that I suddenly needed to let out. I was just so pissed off at Angela, the world, the whole damn situation really, and I wasn't really thinking.

I walked into my room and slammed the door, knocking a couple knick-knacks off a small shelf mounted near the door. They landed fine on the plush carpet but for some reason those damn things having the temerity to fall outraged me. I picked the little ceramic figurine -- where the hell did this thing come from anyway? -- and threw it as hard as I could against the far wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. That'll teach that damn thing to fall off the shelf.

Unfortunately, that just seemed to inflame me further, and with nothing else worth throwing within reach, I stood where I was and bellowed at the top of my lungs. Practitioners of primal scream therapy would have been so proud.

Then I turned and punched the wall.

As hard as I could.

To be honest, I really expected drywall to be a little more forgiving, though that may have been the result of seeing guys punch holes in walls on television. That probably wasn't the best source of a preconceived notion.

I let out another scream at this point; one decidedly less primal than my previous one. I fell back on to the bed clutching my hand and really just hoping none of my bones turned to dust. (Again, something I saw on TV, though I think this one was actually a cartoon). I can only assume Angela could distinguish one scream from the other because she came flying into the room.

"Henry, are you all...OH MY GOD!"

My hand was already swelling and turning purple, and one of my fingers was grossly deformed and pointing in the wrong direction. She told me not to move, like moving was at the top of my list, and ran out of the room. She returned moments later with an ice pack from the freezer and a kitchen towel to wrap it in.

"C'mon baby, it's emergency room time for you."

Fighting her was far too painful so I just went along. She placed me gently into the passenger seat of her BMW and then drove quickly to the local hospital. Apparently, this was the 'Night to do Stupid Things' because there was a decent line and people with the type of injuries that come immediately after someone says 'Hey, watch this!'.

Angela handled all the paperwork. Of course, I couldn't write so there wasn't really much choice. And then I was treated to that favorite of all experiences: sitting in an emergency room all night.