Adam's Week after Unemployment

Friday

I was called into the manager's office. Not unusual for the beginning of the month. Since I was the new guy, Pete liked to make sure I wasn't having trouble learning the ropes of selling. The appliances we sold came with a lot of components to learn. But our conversation was not usual. The first clue was in how Pete looked at me when I knocked on his office door frame. Confused I took a quick look around his office.

Everything looked the same. It was a little dingy hole in the wall, something I was sure started life as a storage closet. The room barely fit the small particle board desk with a rickety office chair behind it and a folding chair in front of it. Not that anyone used that folding chair as a giant desktop computer, likely older than me, covered the desk. It blocked the face of anyone sat behind it. The office walls were still a dingy dirty beige, with terrible motivational posters plastered on them. The ones with black and white photos of touristy mountain towns. The kind of place only the manager would ever be able to afford to go to.

The office looked the same, as did Old Manager Pete. With his grey hair strands slicked over a glistening bald spot, a too tight pressed shirt stuffed into his khaki pants, and gold chain with matching watch. He looked his usual grumpy self. So why the confused stare like he didn't know me.

Then he spoke. "Adam," he said, "We need to discuss something." From that tone of voice, I knew he knew. It was the voice of my tenth grade principal, when he sat me down with my parents and said he had nowhere to put me for gym. That he couldn't put the other students through that and to really think about what I wanted to do. Like it was a flimsy flight of fancy I would forget in a week or two.

That disappointed conspiratorial tone he turned on my dad as he said "Do you really want your daughter changing in front of all those boys?" I could feel my heart drop to my stomach, and both drop to my feet. But if this went the way I thought it might, I didn't want Pete to see his word's effect on me.

He gestured to the seat in front of the desk as he stood up. I grew more uneasy. He never got up from his chair to talk to us. This was a power move if ever there was one.

"What do you want to discuss?" I asked after taking a seat in the creaky folding chair. Pete sighed, a big old gusty sigh like he didn't want to do this. Like this was hard on him in a way I could never imagine. Yeah, well me too buddy.

"HR found a discrepancy in your records." This sounded really bad. They were gearing to blame me for being me. "They dug a little further and found you lied. On your application." Pete stood quiet for a few moments, lording over my seated form. "Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?" he finally asked.

"I think I do." I responded. I wanted this old bastard to spell it out.

Pete sighed again then said, "You lied about being a man Adam." Pete spelled it out alright. Wonder if he could see how each word sent a spear through my nerves. I kept my hands firmly on my thighs so they wouldn't shake.

"I did not lie about anything Pete." I said glaring at him. But he shook his head.

"Yes you did. You're a woman Adam. Not a man, and HR shouldn't have had to tell me that."

"I'm not a woman Pete, my beard's thicker than yours for Christ's sake."

"Adam what would the guys say if they knew? What about our customers? They expect an honest experience and you haven't been providing that." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Pete I look like a man, I sound like a man-"

"But you're not a man Adam, or whatever your name is."

"My name is Adam. My father named me after my grandfather when he found out I was a boy." Pete didn't need to know that, I didn't want to share it. But my emotions were not letting my mouth be logical at the moment.

"Sure he did." Pete spat out, and I hated him at that moment. "Except you're not a boy. You're a girl and I can't have-"

"Dammit Pete, I'm not a girl!" My voice rose at the end of that spat out sentence. My heart roared in my ears but Pete looked furious. None of my words were getting through.

"But you are," Pete said, "And you lied to me, your colleagues, and your customers. And I can't have that in this store." Here it was. That moment I felt coming the minute Pete opened his mouth. "You're fired Adam. Please hand in your badge and enjoy the rest of your day, away from the facility." There it was. Pete wouldn't even look at me. I don't think he could. That was fine. I didn't want him to see my red rimmed eyes. Testosterone made it harder to cry, but the tears were coming anyway.

I put my badge on the chair as I stood, and left. Walked right by Jim, George and Chase, all looking at me and asking what was wrong. But I couldn't answer them. Or even stop to look at them. Pete had looked at me with such disgust at the end. It had been there as plain as the anger in his eyes, pulling down at his nose and mouth. Such an ugly look to have pointed at you. I was sure the others would point that look at me when they found out. So I left. A newly unemployed Hispanic trans man. At least it was Friday.