Sheep

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September 6, 2009

"Debra," says Victor, "it's absolutely not personal, and I hope you understand that." He's sitting on the desk in the back room, with Lanie behind the desk in the chair.

"Not personal? Victor, you're basically putting me out on the street, and unless I'm misunderstanding something, it's because I cost too much." I try to keep as calm as possible, remembering some of the lessons I learned about my relationship with supervisors a couple of years ago.

Lanie jumps in. "That's not exactly fair, Debra. With business down overall, we just don't feel like we need a manager on duty every weeknight. Pat has seniority, so if we're going to keep only one of you, it really has to be her."

"Well, I'd be happy to go back to being a barmaid. I'm not too proud to take that step backwards if that's what you're worried about. And I have good relationships with all the girls."

"We know you do, but the problem is, we've replaced you a couple of times over, and they're making less than you were when you moved up. So even if we got rid of one of them..."

"You'd still be spending more money on me," I finish for her, and she nods.

"Listen, we won't contest your unemployment claim," Victor says, handing me an envelope that contains two weeks' severance pay, something I'll be assured later by a lawyer friend that they weren't in the least bit obligated to give me.

Lanie adds, "And you're an incredibly capable woman, we know you'll find another job."

"With business down overall?" I ask, and Lanie winces a little. "Sorry. Okay. Can I have a letter of reference, at least?"

"Debra, of course," she says. "In fact, why don't you write it? Just say what you'd want us to say, and we'll sign it."

I laugh, pondering all the possibilities. It's not until I'm on my way home that it really starts to set in - six years of my life. Six years of dedication to a job is supposed to be a good thing, employers are supposed to value and honor that.

Oh, God, what am I going to tell Jenny? She's only just barely recovered from what happened this summer, this kind of bad news could set her back. I'm so exhausted from it all... and I can only imagine how she feels.

I have two weeks' pay in my hands, some money in the bank, and unemployment insurance on the way in a few weeks. If I get another job in the next month or two, I'll be just fine, and there's no reason she has to know I lost this one until I actually start the next one. I'll just find some place to hang out on the nights I would've been working. I'll even get some writing done for a change. This is absolutely the right thing to do.

It'll be much better this way.

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Dara finally comes down to the Pub on Wednesday night, for the first time since I started working here a few months ago, and parks herself at the bar for a chat. We spend a little while catching up - on her wedding plans with Dennis, my Dad and how he's been dating the doctor who treated me in the ER a few years ago, and photos of Jessica's toddler Noah (who's just turned a year old!). We studiously avoid any mention of what happened between Jenny and me, partly because we discussed it to death while it was happening. Truth be told, I'm still considering whether even to blog about it, and we've covered that meta-topic enough, too.

Jake, the tall, blonde bartender who trained me when I started here, wanders down the bar from where he's been serving a bunch of college kids on a break from studying for finals. I introduce him to Dara. "Congratulations, when's the big day?" he asks with a smile as he shakes her hand.

"It's in June. How did you -- " She looks down at her other hand, where her engagement ring is revealed only by a bump in the half-finger of a convertible glove-mitten.

Jake spreads his arms wide. "Dara, I'm a single male bartender in Manhattan. It's my job to divine the relationship status of every woman who drinks in here, if I'm able to do it."

"That's impressive," Dara says. "And if I'd been single, or you thought so, what would you have done?"

Jake shrugs and winks. "We'll never know, will we? Anyway, welcome to the Pub, I hope we see you here often." He returns to the other end of the bar, where patrons await, and Dara watches him as he goes. When she looks back at me, I'm grinning.

"What? I'm allowed to look," she laughs. "In a way I'm kind of glad men are allowed to serve drinks here. I mean, some of the girls you worked with at the Bar were fun, but how about some eye-candy equal time, huh?"

"Vince and Diego the barbacks weren't enough for you?" I pull another Sierra Nevada Pale Ale from the tap for her, and she takes off her glove-esque things.

Dara shrugs. "Vince was taken almost as soon as I knew him, and, well, Diego was a devoted father. I think I might've just known them too well to look at them that way." She pauses to take a drink. "You know, I just thought of something."

"What's that?"

"Your new job at a new place, being single in a new apartment, starting up the blog again, even your father dating - it's kind of like one of those TV shows or movies that reboots. You know, like the new 'Star Trek' movie this past summer. Or that sitcom with Christina Applegate where at first she was a waitress at her father's bar, and then suddenly you were supposed to believe she'd been working in a doctor's office the whole time? They start down a completely new path, with new characters and new situations that never would've happened the first time around, and it's like the first time around never existed."

I think about it for a minute, nodding. "There's only one problem with your analogy."

"What, you don't get to hang out with Zachary Quinto?"

"No - the stuff that happened the first time around really happened, and I don't get to pretend it didn't." I excuse myself briefly to take some orders from a group of men that's just arrived, and I see Dara looking at her hand and fingering her engagement ring.

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