I stared at him, disbelieving.
“I’m what?”
“You’re fired.”
My brain struggled to fathom what I was hearing.
“But—." I started, shook my head, stopped, started again. “Last week you were the one telling me to take the job, telling me I was needed. Why would you—,” I stop, hating how pitiful I sounded, but, “Why would you fire me?”
The boss shifted uncomfortably.
“Well, you see, ma’am, certain circumstances have required us to…lower our wages, and frankly, we can’t afford to pay the inexperienced any longer.”
I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening.
“Sir, I can’t afford to not be paid any longer!”
The boss looked down at his feet.
“I’m sorry ma’am,” he said, turning to look out the window at the bombers flying constantly overhead, “but ma’am, we’re in the middle of a war, and sacrifices have to be made. You’re certainly not the only one hurting from this.”
He refused to look at me. I stood stationary, still not quite believing what I was hearing.
“Ma’am, if you don’t leave, I’ll have to call security,” he said quietly, then stepped out of the door, head down, never meeting my eyes.
Numb, I began to gather my things, wondering why the sacrifice had to be me.