On Monday, a day before Christmas, I went to a specialized police station (extrangería) to do some paperwork related to my visa. There had been a weird administrative error, and the police officer attending my case acted very concerned. I puzzled over the events, worried it might affect my visa eligibility. But last night it all came together in a flash of insight: the police officer is crooked!
Having considered writing fiction, I want to explore this as a short story written in installments. It is largely non-fictional, but treating it as fiction will allow me to feel comfortable changing names and details, and also account for the fact that I can't accuse someone of being crooked without proof.
"I don't understand why, but Francesca insists that your resignation must look as if the company was declining to offer you a permanent contract after your trial period. I tried to make her understand that it was your choice, but she wouldn't listen. If you can do me a favor, just play along with her game and feign surprise", my boss and longtime friend said to me. Days earlier, I had said him I was not a good match at the company he had recruited me into.
It had been almost three painful months trying to fill a senior role in a software company in an industry I knew nothing about, with rusty skills from an extended sabbatical, spending an absurd amount of time in meetings of which I understood almost nothing. When I told my boss and friend it would be better not to sign a permanent contract after my trial period, I said "The only reason I don't suffer from impostor's syndrome is because I fully accept to myself and to others I'm an impostor". He chuckled because it was true.
On the day they let me go, my boss called me into a meeting room and said "Ok, we both know how this goes: I'm telling you that we won't need your services anymore. I'll walk out, HR will come in and explain the procedures that follow. You will ask for permission to send a last farewell message on Slack, after you do this they will press a red button which will remove your access to all the services and disable your account". I assented. Then we burned through ten minutes of chit-chat before he stepped out of the room.
Francesca and her boss walked in and took a seat. I said that I was sad that things didn't work out, but I agreed I had not proven my value to the company in the allotted time, and that it was better to put my talents where I could make a better contribution. The boss told me it was always a difficult thing to do, especially for me, coming from a foreign country. They wanted to part in good terms: they would pay the relocation package and the productivity bonus, despite these being dependent on signing a permanent contract. I thanked their generous terms and then asked for permission to say goodbye on Slack. I made a show of typing before copying and pasting a message I had painfully composed beforehand and I ceremoniously hit enter before shutting company issued laptop closed. It was done.
Francesca instructed me to pick up my personal belongings and come with her to the HR office to hand over my laptop. We had connected before over drinks at the company retreat in the Catalonian golden coast. She was a young French graduate of anthropology with seductive manners and a contrarian streak. As we walked towards her office I silently understood that she had orchestrated the show of letting me go so that I would leave in the best financial terms possible. I thanked her in silence too.
—"So what are you planning to do now?" she asked me.
—"To tell you the truth I just want to enjoy the summer in Barcelona, the days are beautiful".
—"Oh I'm so jealous", she said grabbing my arm, "just keep in mind that starting from today you have 90 days to either find a new job or leave Spain. If you overstay you will be fined, so make sure to do one or the other".
I sighed. This experience left me skeptical about my skills in the workplace, just as my "sabbatical" had left me skeptical about my capacity and willingness to work a freelance contractor or an independent creator. I had exhausted all professional avenues of development. I would probably go back to Mexico to live with my mother, again. But for now, I had three months to enjoy Barcelona.
We made it to Francesca's office. I handed her the company issued laptop. She noticed my hesitation handing back the charger. "If it's useful for you, just keep it", she whispered with a wink. I smiled and discreetly put it back into my backpack. She hugged me, wished me good luck, and we bid farewell.