I looked at him for a second after he said it.
Nobody in the room moved.
Tyler actually looked embarrassed for me, which somehow made it worse.
My boss smiled like he’d finally won something. HR kept staring down at her folder pretending not to hear any of it.
I opened the packet then.
Not dramatically either. Just slow.
Inside was the severance offer everybody already knew about except me officially.
Two months pay.
Noncompete clause.
A little paragraph thanking me for “helping transition the department into its next phase.”
I started laughing before I could stop myself.
My boss frowned immediately. “Something funny?”
I pulled another folder out of my bag and slid it across the table toward him.
That’s when Tyler went pale.
Because he recognized the logo on top before anybody else did.
Our biggest client.
The one I’d handled for eleven years.
“I had lunch with Davidson Medical yesterday,” I said. “They asked if I was really leaving.”
Nobody said a word after that.
My boss opened the folder faster then. Emails. Signed intent paperwork. Transition documents.
Tyler kept staring at the table.
I finally looked at him and honestly felt a little bad for him. Kid thought he was getting a promotion. He didn’t realize he was getting handed a fire.
“They’re terminating their contract Friday,” I said. “Apparently they didn’t love finding out the department was replacing the person who actually built their account.”
My boss tried jumping in after that. Started talking about relationships being company property and how we could still fix things.
But he already sounded nervous now.
Because everybody in the room knew exactly what losing that account meant.
I stood up, picked up my coffee, and said, “Good luck with the fresh energy.”