I was fired because of my age. As a farewell, I gave roses to all my colleagues—but left my boss a folder with the results of my secret audit
“Lena, we’ll have to part ways.”
Gennady said it with that fatherly softness he always used when he was about to pull something nasty.
He leaned back in his massive chair, fingers interlaced over his stomach.
“We’ve decided the company needs a fresh perspective. New energy. You understand, don’t you?”
I looked at him—his well-groomed face, the expensive tie I had personally helped him choose for the last corporate party.
Do I understand? Oh, yes. I understood perfectly that the investors had started talking about an independent audit, and he urgently needed to get rid of the only person who could see the whole picture. Me.
“I understand,” I replied evenly. “New energy—meaning Katya from reception, who confuses debit with credit but is twenty-two and laughs at all your jokes?”
He winced.
“It’s not about age, Lena. It’s just… your approach is a bit outdated. We’re stuck in one place. We need a breakthrough.”
A breakthrough. That was his favorite word for the past six months. I had built this company with him from scratch, back when we were crammed into a tiny office with peeling walls.
Now that the office was glossy, I apparently no longer fit the décor.
“All right,” I stood up lightly, feeling everything inside me go still. “When should I clear my desk?”
My calmness clearly threw him off. He’d been expecting tears, begging, a scandal—anything that would give him the pleasure of feeling like a magnanimous victor.
“You can do it today. No rush. HR will prepare the paperwork. Severance, all as it should be.”
I nodded and headed for the door. With my hand on the handle, I turned back.
“You know, Gen, you’re right. The company really does need a breakthrough. And I think I’ll make sure it happens.”
He didn’t get it—just smiled condescendingly.
In the open office, where about fifteen people sat, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone knew everything.
The girls looked away guiltily.
I went to my desk. A cardboard box was already there. Efficient.
I began silently packing my things: photos of my children, my favorite mug, a stack of professional journals.
At the bottom, I placed a small bouquet of lilies of the valley from my son—he had brought them to me yesterday, just because.
Then I took out what I had prepared in advance: twelve scarlet roses—one for each employee who had been with me all these years. And a thick black folder tied with strings.
I walked around the office, handing each colleague a flower…