Chapter 5: The Last Perk
604 Words
“Alan…”
Charlotte's voice was small. Alan didn't answer. She was still staring at the phone, jaw tight.
“The whole office moves to Dublin,” Alan said finally. “You've got one week. Work with the team on contract terminations. No walkouts. No tribunals. Understood?”
Charlotte nodded.
“HR staff?”
“Same as everyone else. But your severance—double. If you stay till the end.”
“Double?”
“And confidential.” Alan's eyes pinned her. “No one finds out the number. Not a whisper. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone who started onboarding—notification goes to Payroll today. That's wave one. Anyone with an outstanding offer—call them. Withdraw. Apologize. And send them something. A voucher, a gift. Something to soften the blow.”
“And the interviews?”
“Cancel them. Emails. Tonight.”
Charlotte felt the folder in her hands. It felt heavier than it should.
“Alan... we're all losing our jobs, aren't we?”
“Charlotte.”
“Yes?”
“Stop talking and start working.”
She walked out. Head down. Shoulders curled. Like a flower someone had stepped on.
The open-plan office was already buzzing. Whispers everywhere.
“They're cutting staff.”
“No—they're still hiring. I saw posts on LinkedIn.”
“Those are senior roles. Maybe they're moving to Dublin. Not like us.”
“Maybe.”
Charlotte listened. Her stomach turned. None of them knew. Not yet.
But I do. She held onto that—a tiny, petty advantage. At least HR knows first.
It helped. Just a little.
She'd only paid the deposit on the flat. The gym membership wasn't active yet—she could cancel it, probably, with a small fee. The job market was tight, but two years at a British firm was still worth something. And double severance would buy her time.
She sat down. Pulled out her list. Took a breath.
“Mr. Wong? This is Charlotte Hayes from Tinsley. I'm afraid we have to cancel your interview. The position's been put on hold. Apologies.”
“Mr. Louis? This is...”
“Mr. Smith...”
One call after another. The words became automatic: Cancel. Put on hold. Apologies for the inconvenience. By the seventh call, she almost forgot she was getting laid off too.
It was past 7 p.m. when she hung up the last one.
She let out a long breath. Turned to the window. The streetlights on the bridge curved into the distance—a long, bright line pulling her thoughts away.
Just for a second.
“Charlotte—you're still here?”
She turned. Sophie Shaw stood in the doorway, cash accountant from Finance. Two years older. Three years longer at the company. Already on her second contract.
“Still here,” Charlotte said. “What's the news?”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You haven't seen the internal notice?”
“No. What notice?”
“Alan posted it. HR and Finance—mandatory overtime starting today. Redundancy calculations. The company's leaving.”
Charlotte's face went still.
“Really?”
“Really.” Sophie smiled—a little too amused. “You haven't checked the system?”
“Not yet. Sounds big.”
“It's big.”
Sophie left. Charlotte sat there, fingers frozen over her keyboard. She wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both.
I already knew. And I still pretended I didn't.
She pulled up the internal system. The notice was there—joint statement from HR and Finance. Official. Final. No room for hope.
Her mood crashed. Hard.
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