I was let go because I was too old. As I walked out, I handed every colleague a rose and left a folder on my bosss desk containing the results of the secret audit Id been running.
Ellen, well have to part ways, Graham said, his voice sweet as a fathers lullaby, the same tone he used whenever he prepared to pull another dirty trick. He slumped back in his massive leather chair, interlacing his fingers across his belly.
Weve decided the firm needs a fresh pair of eyes. New energy. You understand.
I stared at him, at his impeccably groomed face, at the expensive tie Id helped him pick for last years Christmas party.
Understand? I said, and yes, I understood perfectly. The investors had demanded an independent audit, and he needed to shed the only person who could see the whole pictureme.
I understand, I replied calmly. New energy is the receptionist, Katie, who mixes debit with credit, is only twentytwo, and laughs at all your jokes?
He winced.
Its not about age, Ellen. Its just your approach is a bit outdated. Were stuck. We need a breakthrough.
Breakthrough, he had been repeating for the past six months. I had built this company from scratch with him, when we were crammed into a shabby office with peeling walls. Now the office was sleek and glassfronted, and I suddenly seemed out of place.
Fine, I said, feeling a cold knot tighten inside me. When do I clear my desk?
My composure seemed to knock him off balance. Hed been expecting tears, pleas, a sceneanything that would let him feel graciously victorious.
You can do it today. No rush. HR will sort the paperwork. Compensation, as permissible.
I nodded and moved toward the door. As I reached for the handle, I turned back.
You know, Graham, youre right. The firm does need a breakthrough. I think Ill be the one to deliver it.
He didnt get it. He only gave a patronising smile.
The openplan office, with about fifteen people, hummed with tension. Everyone knew what was happening. The women glanced away guiltily. I walked to my desk, where a plain cardboard box already waited.
Silently I began packing: photos of my children, my favourite mug, a stack of industry journals. At the bottom I placed a tiny spray of lilyofthevalley my son had given me the day before, just because.
Then I pulled from my bag the twelve red roses Id preparedone for each colleague whod stood by me all these yearsand a thick black folder bound with string.
I drifted through the office, handing each person a flower, whispering simple words of thanks. Some embraced me, some wept. It felt like a farewell to a family.
When I returned to my desk, the only thing left in my hands was the folder. I lifted it, passed the bewildered faces of my coworkers, and headed for Grahams office.
The door was ajar. He was on the phone, laughing.
Yes, the old guard is stepping down yes, its time to move on
I didnt knock. I entered, walked to his desk and placed the folder on top of his papers.
He looked up, startled, and covered the receiver with his hand.
Whats this?
Its my parting gift, Graham. Instead of flowers, here are all your breakthroughs from the past two yearsfigures, numbers, dates. I think youll enjoy reviewing them in your spare time, especially the section on flexible methodologies for cashout.
I turned and left. I felt his stare follow the folder, then me. He tossed the phone aside and cut the call, but I didnt look back.
I walked through the office with the empty box in my arms. All eyes were on me now, a mix of fear and secret admiration. On every desk sat my red rose, a field of poppies after a battle.
At the exit, the chief IT guy, Simon, caught up with mere. Hed been treated as nothing more than a function by Graham. A year earlier, when Graham tried to levy a huge fine on him for a server outage that Graham himself had caused, Id produced evidence and saved Simon. He hadnt forgotten.
Ellen, he said quietly, if you need anythingany data, cloud backupsjust let me know where to find you.
I gave a grateful nod. It was the first voice of resistance.
At home my husband and my son, a law student, waited. They saw the box and understood instantly.
Well, did it work? my husband asked, taking the box from me.
The seeds been planted, I replied, slipping off my shoes. Now we wait.
My son hugged me.
Mom, youre amazing. I doublechecked every document you gathered. Theres no chance of an auditor catching anything. No loophole.
Hed helped me organise the doublebookkeeping chaos Id been secretly compiling all year.
All evening I waited for a call. It never came. I imagined Graham in his office, leafing through page after page, his oncepolished face turning grey.
At eleven that nighttime, the phone finally rang. I answered with the speaker on.
Ellen? There was no trace of his former gentle toneonly a thinlyveiled panic. Ive looked at your documents. Is this a joke? Blackmail?
Why be so harsh, Graham? I said calmly. Its not blackmail. Its an audit. And a gift.
You know I could ruin you? For defamation! For stealing files!
And you know the originals of all those papers are no longer with me. If anything happens to me or my family, those files will automatically go to a few very interested partiesHMRC, your main investors.
A hollow hiss filled the line.
What do you want, Ellen? Money? My job back?
I want justice, Graham. I want every penny you stole from the firm returned, and I want you out. Quietly.
Youve gone mad! he shouted. This is my company!
It was OUR company, I replied firmly. Youve decided your wallet is more important than anyone elses. You have until tomorrow morning.
Ill be waiting for news of your resignation at nine. If it doesnt, the folder will travel.
I hung up, ignoring his choking curses.
The next morning there was no news. At 9:15 a message appeared in my inbox from Graham:
Urgent allhands meeting at 10:00. Ellen, youre required to attend. Come. Lets see whos who. Hes gone allin.
What are you doing? my husband asked.
Of course Im going. You cant miss the premiere of your own film.
I slipped into my best suit. At 9:55 I entered the meeting room; everyone was already seated. Graham stood by a large screen. When he saw me, he smiled like a predator.
Theres our star, he said. Please, Ellen, take a seat. Were all eager to hear how the finance director, accused of incompetence, tries to blackmail the board.
He launched into a theatrical speech about trust he claimed Id betrayed, waving my folder like a flag.
Here it is! A collection of fantasies from someone who refuses to accept that her time is up!
The room fell silent. Faces dropped; shame and fear mingled. I waited for him to pause, then typed a single word to Simon: Start.
At that instant the screen behind Graham went black, then flickered to a scanned payment slip. It showed a payment for consultancy services to a onedayold shell company registered to his motherinlaw.
Graham froze. Documents began scrolling: receipts for his personal holidays, estimates for renovating his cottage, screenshots of messages detailing kickback percentages.
What is this? he sputtered.
This, Graham, is called data visualisation, I said loudly, stepping forward. You talked about a breakthrough?
That was the breakthroughthe firms cleansing from theft. You said my approach was outdated? Perhaps. Im oldfashioned, because I believe stealing is wrong.
I turned to the staff.
Im not asking you to pick sides. Im just showing the facts. Draw your own conclusions.
I placed my phone on the table.
By the way, Graham, this is being sent in real time to our investors inboxes. So, I think redundancy is the kindest thing awaiting you.
His eyes darted between the screen and me, his colour draining, the bravado evaporating into a frightened of a child.
I walked out. First rose up was Simon, then Olivia, our top sales manager whod endured Grahams constant belittling. Behind her stood Andrew, the analyst whose reports Graham had plagiarised. Even quiet Miriam from accounts, whod often wept over Grahams petty remarks, rosenot for me, but away from him.
Two days later an unknown man called. He introduced himself as a crisis manager hired by the investors. Graham has been suspended, the firm is under investigation, he said. Thank you for the information. Theyd like you back to stabilise things.
Thank you, I replied. But Id rather build something new than pick up the pieces of an old wreck.
The first months were hard. We worked from a cramped rented space that reminded me of our early days. My husband, my son, Simon and Olivia put in twelvehour days. Our consultancy, Audit & Order Ltd, lived up to its name. We chased our first clients, proving competence not with words but with results.
Sometimes I drive past our old office. A new sign now hangs there; the company never survived either the breakthrough or the scandal.
I wasnt dismissed because of my age. I was dismissed because I was the mirror in which Graham saw his greed and incompetence. He wanted to smash that mirror, forgetting that shattered glass cuts deeper.
