The Machine Fired Me

It was 7am when my phone rang. Instead of an alarm, it was my recruiter disturbing me from a pleasant dream. It was too early for a phone call or to be caught off guard, so I did not answer. I went to take a shower and get ready for the day. On my way to work, I listened to the voice mail she had left.

In the company's directory, there are several people that shared the same first and last name as me. I was OK. So she must have dialed the wrong phone number. I assumed somewhere, an employee named Ibrahim Diallo, was in trouble. But not me.

At work, when I scanned my key card at the turnstile, it flashed red, made a grumpy beep, and refused to disengage. I tried it a few more times, it kept flashing red and grumping. I threw a glance at Jose and made sure to make eye contact. He shrugged. A moment later he laughed then pressed a button under his desk and the turnstile turned open. Jose was one of the security guards in the LA-1 skyscraper I worked in.

Recruiter: Did you have a talk with your manager yesterday? Me: Yes I did. R: Is everything OK? M: Yes, everything is OK. Is there a problem? R: I'm not sure, I received an email about you this morning... I guess it must have been a mistake. Did they let you in the building? M: I don't understand. Yes, they let me in the building. What is happening? R: I think there is a confusion. I'll ask my manager then I will call you back.

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