I spent thirty years being the "fair" one. The HR Lady who actually listened. That was the reputation I curated like a goddamn prize-winning garden. But people are vultures. I was at the office by seven and didn't get home until eight, only to spend the next four hours cleaning up after a man who couldn't remember my name half the time (dementia is a slow, agonizing rot). I was exhausted. I was bitter. And I was ready to burn something down just to see the sparks. Then came the "restructuring." That's the word the suits use when they want to bleed the company dry. My boss sat me down and told me we needed to "freshen up" the floor. He didn't have to say the word old. He just pointed at the payroll costs and the insurance premiums. I knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted the fifty-somethings gone. He wanted the people with the mortgages and the college tuitions and the bad knees out the door. And I didn't blink. Not once. I spent three weeks building the files.