I can only imagine how bad things have to be if they’re axing all of the reporters – all three of us, one still on maternity leave. It occurs to me that I’d been talking to Steph about stories and deadlines the whole time, and that she’d had to pretend she didn’t know anything. I start wondering who else knew, and my mind starts a little paranoid spider dance of speculation.
As we wait for Ruth to bring me my things – my laptop bag (now empty as the company owns the laptop), my daytimer and reporter’s notebook, my phone and the framed picture of my daughters – I see Glen, the managing editor, with his jacket and briefcase, being escorted through the door to the stairs leading down to the parking garage. I turn to Steph and John, my eyes wide. Yeah, they whisper — Glen too…
And yes, Rick has a PayPal Tip Jar.