**The Old Guard**
We dont need old-timers anymore, they told me during the redundancy meeting. Yet, just six months later, my former boss walked into my office for a job interview.
The wooden blinds in the meeting room were half-closed, strips of sunlight cutting through the dimness, dust motes drifting lazily over the expensive carpet.
Ellen, weve known each other for years, Ians voice was smooth, almost ingratiating. Youre a smart woman. You understand how things work.
Ellen studied himthe manicured hands resting on the polished mahogany desk. She didnt understand. That very morning, shed been leading meetings, assigning tasks, planning the next quarter.
I understand the project was delivered ahead of schedule, Ian. I understand the client sent a thank-you letter. What exactly am I supposed to understand?
He leaned back in his leather chair, which creaked with smug satisfaction.
The project was brilliant. Your work always is. But the company is evolving. We need fresh blood, energyyoung minds who think in different terms.
A cold weight settled in her chest. Shed given this company twenty years.
Shed been here when those so-called young minds were still in school. Shed built the department now hailed as their crown jewel.
Different terms? Her voice remained steady. Like ignoring experience and strategic planning?
Ian sighed, feigning regret.
Dont twist my words. Your experience is invaluableour foundation. But you cant build a modern structure on old foundations. We need new engineers.
His vagueness annoyed her more than outright cruelty. He was framing her as a museum piecepriceless, but obsolete.
Were not cutting ties entirely, he said, sliding a folder toward her. Five months salary. A glowing reference. Ill write it myself. Think of it as a chance to rest, find something quieter.
Quieter. Code for retirement.
Funny, Ian, Ellen stood slowly, palms pressed flat on the desk. You came to my department as an intern once. Bright-eyed and penniless. I taught you everything.
His smile tightened, just for a second.
And Ill always be grateful, Ellen. Truly. But business is business. Tough calls must be made to move forward. Old baggage just drags a company down.
She nodded, already tuning him out. Her eyes fixed on the wall behind hima team photo from three years ago, after theyd won a major contract. She stood front and centre, laughing. Ian hovered at the edge, barely in frame.
I see. Are the papers with HR?
Yes. Everythings ready.
She left without looking back. She felt his gaze on herrelieved, slightly guilty. None of it mattered now.
The walk past her colleagues was silent. Some avoided her eyes; others pretended to be engrossed in work. Only Annie, the junior shed hired six months ago, met her gaze with genuine sympathy. Ellen gave her the faintest smile in return.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor. It didnt feel like defeat.
It felt like the start of something unknown.
The first week, Ellen cleared out her wardrobeold papers, unworn clothes, the accumulated debris of a career. It kept her from thinking.
Her son, James, watched quietly. He never offered empty platitudes, just brought groceries each evening and ate dinner with her.
Mum, Ive got a logistics issue, he admitted one night at the kitchen table. The suppliers overcharging, but I cant tell if its market rate or if theyre taking advantage.
James ran a start-up developing warehouse management software. Ellen had dismissed it as youthful enthusiasm.
Show me the contract.
Twenty minutes later, she set the tablet down.
Theyve inflated the price by thirty percent. And these clauses lock you into dependency. Call TransLog, ask for Michaelmention my name. Hell give you real numbers.
James blinked, made the call. Half an hour later, he stared at her.
Mum they offered terms twice as good. Said theyd give a first-year discount for your contact. Who *are* you?
Ellen smiledthe first real one in months.
Just someone with old baggage.
Everything shifted after that. James brought her contracts, financial models, market strategy. She immersed herself without realizing.
No more clearing cupboards. Now she analyzed competitors, identified weaknesses, proposed solutions. The invaluable experience Ian had discarded became indispensable.
Two months later, James arrived with his partnerstwo bearded techies in hoodies. They crowded her kitchen table as Ellen dismantled their business plan with surgical precision.
Ellen, one finally said, were blind without you. James was right. We need you in this company.
Were offering you the COO role, James added. With equity.
She studied their facesrespectful, hopeful. Not pitying like Annies, not guiltily relieved like Ians.
Ill think about it, she said, though she already knew.
Six months later, their start-up leased offices in central London. Thirty employees. Major contracts. Ellen had her own corner officebright, spacious, with a skyline view. She was deputy CEO. His right hand.
Annie sometimes called with updates from the old company. The young and dynamic leader had botched two projects. Key staff had quit. Ian was unraveling.
People are saying the old guard was more reliable, Annie sighed. Everyone thinks he shouldnt have
Everything happens for a reason, Ellen replied, eyeing the growth charts on her screen.
She felt no gloatingjust icy satisfaction. Her story wasnt over. This was only the second act.
News of her former companys collapse wasnt a surprise. Shed seen it in the reports old contacts sent for curiositys sake. Ians firm, betting on youthful audacity, lost legacy clients and failed to attract new ones. Their drive had been a bubble without experience to sustain it.
One morning, HR placed a CV on her desk.
Final candidate for Director of Development. James wants your final say.
Ellen opened the file ten minutes before the interview. The name was familiar. *Ian Sampson*. Former CEO, *Innovate Solutions*. Reason for leaving: Project discontinuation. A polite euphemism for bankruptcy.
Her pulse stayed steady. No anger, no vengeancejust cold curiosity.
At eleven, a man entered her office. Aged, hollow-eyed, his expensive suit hanging loosely. He didnt recognize her.
Good morning, he said, extending a hand. Ian.
Ellen. She gestured to the chair. Sit.
He eyed the office enviously as he sat.
So, Ian, she began, scanning his CV. Youre applying for a senior role. Why should we hire you?
He launched into rehearsed answers, citing projects theyd once led *together*framed as his solo achievements. Ellen listened, nodding occasionally.
young teams grasp trends, he said. They just need direction.
Interesting, she mused. But direction requires experience. And experience, as you know, is just *old baggage*. Doesnt that drag a company down?
He stiffened. Recognition flickeredconfusion, shock, then burning shame.
Ellen? *Ellen Carter?*
Now that were reacquainted, she said calmly, lets discuss your companys failure. You dismissed the people who built it. You said, *We dont need old-timers.* Your young and energetic hires destroyed everything.
No malice. Just facts.
Our company values experience. Youthful energy without wisdom is chaos. You, unfortunately, are an extremist. You wouldnt fit here.
She stood. The interview was over.
Ellen, I *need* this job, desperation cracked his voice.
Im sorry, she said. But this isnt charity. Its business.
His own words, thrown back. Yet she felt no triumphonly closure.
James visited her office that evening, handing her water.
HR said you rejected him. Harsh.
Harsh is throwing someone out after twenty years because theyre old, she corrected. I made a business decision. Hed have been toxic.
Youre right, James admitted. I just couldnt have done it. Facing him.
You could, she said firmly. When its your companyyour teamyou learn to make hard calls. As long as theyre fair. Mine was.
She didnt tell him shed sat motionless afterward, staring blankly. Not out of pity. Just bitterness.
Bitterness at how easily people wreck livestheir own and otherschasing hollow trends.
The next week, Ellen reviewed marketing CVs. One made her pause.
*Anna Wolska*. The same Annie from her old job. Shed resigned soon after Ellen left.
Ellen pressed
