The Burnout(6)

“Well, have you tried him? Have you called him?”

Ruby rolls her eyes, not disguising her contempt.

“There’s no point calling him,” she says, in a super-slow, patronizing tone, “because he’s not available.”

Something strange is happening to me. All the noises in the surrounding offices are getting louder. My breath is coming faster and faster. I don’t feel quite in control of myself.

“Well, there must be someone,” I say, taking a step forward. “OK? In this entire company, there must be someone. So please find them. Now. Because I have a problem and Asher hasn’t fixed it and no one seems able to fix it, and I’m losing the plot. I. Am. Losing. The. Plot. I’ve gone off sex, do you know that?” My voice is getting shrill. “That’s not normal, is it? To go off sex? I’m thirty-three!”

Ruby opens her eyes wide and I can already see her relaying this whole conversation to her mates over drinks later, but I do not care. I do not care.

“Oooooo-kay,” she says. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She types busily, then pauses, and I see her register some new piece of information on her screen. At last she looks up and shoots me a cold smile.

“Someone’s coming to talk to you. Would you like to take a seat?”

My head churning, I sit down on the nearby sofa, which is covered in an orange and green retro print. There’s a bowl of vegan snacks on the coffee table, several tech magazines, and a new brand of filtered water in an eco-paper bag. I remember sitting here when I interviewed for the job. Double-checking my outfit. Running through all the reasons I would be thrilled to join such an exciting, dynamic company.

“Sasha. What’s up?”

My chest clenches as I hear the familiar strident voice. This is who Ruby has summoned? Joanne? I can hardly bring myself to look at her as she plonks herself down on the sofa in her casual blazer and flared jeans combo and shakes her head reprovingly.

“Ruby says you’ve become a little overemotional?” she says. “Sharing too much? Losing your temper? As you know, Sasha, I did warn you about the consequences of neglecting your personal reflections. It’s up to you to check in with yourself.”

I can’t speak for a few seconds. My throat feels choked with rage. Is she saying this is my fault?

“It’s not a question of personal reflections,” I manage at last, my voice trembling. “It’s a question of staffing, of management failure—”

“I suggest you bring any specific problems up with Asher, as your department head.” Joanne cuts me off crisply. “But in the meantime, I do have some news, which Asher will be announcing later: Lina is no longer working for the company.” She shoots me an icy smile. “So everyone in marketing will need to pull together! If you could personally take on Lina’s projects, just temporarily, that would be helpful. And, obviously, any other issues you have may need to wait, as Asher is somewhat stretched as a result.”

I stare at Joanne in disbelief.

“Lina’s left?”

“She sent an email this morning indicating that she was not returning.”

“She just left?”

“It was quite a shock for Asher.” Joanne lowers her voice. “Between you and me, I’ve never known such disrespectful treatment. And quite a rude email, I can tell you!”

I can barely hear Joanne, my thoughts are whirling so fast. Lina got out. She’d had enough and she got out. And now I’m supposed to take on her projects? On top of everything else? I’ll collapse. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. But who do I turn to? Who can I talk to? This place is hell. It’s a circular hell with no way out.…

I need to do the same as Lina, it comes to me in a powerful realization. I need to escape. Right now. This minute. But carefully. Warily. No sudden moves, or else Joanne might tackle me to the floor.

“I’ll just pop to the ladies’,” I say in a stilted voice, picking up my bag. “And then I’ll be back. I’ll be back in, like, three minutes. I’m just popping to the ladies’.”

Trying to keep a steady pace, I walk self-consciously toward the ladies’. At the door, I pause and look around to see if I’m being observed. Then I dodge into the stairwell and start running like lightning down the stone steps, my heart pumping furiously. I emerge onto the street and stand on the pavement for a few seconds, blinking.

I’m out.

But what do I do now? Where will I work? Will they give me a reference? What if they don’t? What if I’m unemployable?

My stomach squeezes in fright. What have I done? Should I go back in? No. I can’t, I just can’t.

For a few moments I’m transfixed. I don’t feel right. Everything seems blurry. Blood is pumping in my ears. All the cars and buses sound like juggernauts. I should go home, I dimly think. But what’s home? A messy, disheveled, depressing flat. What’s my life? A messy, disheveled, depressing nothing.

I can’t do life. The stark truth lands in my brain with a thud. I can’t do life anymore. If I just acknowledged this one fact, everything would be easier. Life is too hard. I want to give up … what, exactly? Working? Being? No, not being. I like being alive. I think. I just can’t be alive like this.

My phone buzzes with a message, and out of habit I open it, to see a text from Joanne.