**Diary Entry 12th October**
They let me go the day I turned 55. As a farewell, I handed out roses to each colleague, while leaving a folder on my bosss deska secret audit Id conducted on my own.
Margaret, Im afraid well have to let you go, said Mr. Charles in that sickly-sweet tone he always used when delivering a knife disguised as kindness. He leaned back in his leather chair, laced his fingers over his stomach, and added, The company needs fresh air, new blood. You understand, dont you?
I studied himhis well-groomed face, the expensive tie Id helped him pick at last years corporate dinner. Understand? Of course I did. The shareholders had been demanding an independent audit, and he needed to remove the one person who knew the full truth: me.
I understand, I replied calmly. Is that fresh air Lucy, the receptionist who cant tell debit from credit but is 22 and laughs at all your jokes?
His expression hardened. Its not about age, Margaret. Its your methodstheyre outdated. We need a leap forward.
That phrase had been his mantra for months. Id built this company alongside him, back when we worked in a damp office with peeling walls. Now that everything gleamed, I no longer matched the décor.
Very well, I stood, steady despite the ice in my veins. When should I clear my desk?
This wasnt the scene hed hoped for. Hed wanted tears, pleading, maybe a scenesomething to make him feel victorious.
Today, if you like. HR has already prepared the paperwork. All legal, including your severance.
I walked to the door but paused before leaving. Youre right, Charles. The company *does* need a leap forward. And Ill be the one to take it.
He didnt understand. He just smiled smugly.
No one in the office would meet my eye. A cardboard box sat ready on my desk. I packed my thingsmy favourite mug, photos of my children, papers. At the bottom, I placed the bouquet of daisies my university-aged son had given me the night before.
Then I brought out what Id prepared: twelve red rosesone for each colleague Id worked with all these yearsand a black folder tied with ribbon.
I walked the floor, handing out the flowers, murmuring thanks. There were hugs and tears. It felt like leaving family.
The folder was for him. I entered his office without knocking and set it atop his papers.
Whats this? he asked.
My parting gift. All your leaps forward from the last two yearsnumbers, invoices, dates. Youll find it illuminating.
I left without looking back.
That night, close to eleven, my phone rang. It was him, voice unsteady. Margaret Ive reviewed the folder Do you realise what this means?
Perfectly. These arent suspicionstheyre proof. Signatures, transfers, contracts.
If this goes public, the company will collapse
The company? Or *you*?
He tried bargaining, offering my job back, even a promotion. I just smiled. No, Charles. Theres no going back now.
I hung up.
The next morning, Alfie from IT arrived. Margaret, he tried deleting evidence from the servers last night. But I made mirror copies. We have everythingeven emails about bribes and offshore transfers.
I pressed a hand to my forehead. The final blow.
Then Lucy, the new energy, showed up at my doorstep. She carried one of the wilted roses, tears in her eyes. Im so sorry, Margaret. I didnt know Today he tried forcing me to sign a false report for the investors. I cant do it. Please help me.
I hugged her, realising then: even his so-called fresh start had cracks.
Two days later, Mr. Charles resigned for personal reasons. The shareholders werent fooled. A week after that, they offered me the directorship.
I walked back into the office. On every desk, my rosesnow wilted, but still there. My colleagues applauded. I raised a hand. Enough. Weve work to do. The real future starts now.
That day, I understood: they let me go for being 55. But those same 55 years gave me the experience, patience, and strength to endure, fight, and win. Now the youth worked beside me, learning the most valuable lesson of allhow to turn defeat into victory.
