Barb Hardy had a nose for these things, hell, she'd been at the company long enough. In a way, her doomsaying made sense; it was a payday after all and the timing was right. There had been all the folks let go, and then all the folks put in new departments that very day. She wasn't worried now because she knew that if they intended to let her go, that there was really nothing she could do.
She felt too postmodern that night, if it can even be said that someone can feel like that, like all the lights and sounds and sights of night was too much for her. Sometimes, and she thought about this as she wandered through the Giant looking for things to eat. But then, everyone here with her was wrong, like the way they scrutinized the sides of boxes of foods, my so-called low-carb life she thought. It really didn't matter, and this came back to her during the drunken rounds of charades, none of it mattered except the harsh lick of tequilla at the bottom of the shot glass.
Maybe they wouldn't lay her off the next day. At least she could pass out comfortably in her own bed and maybe even have some time for herself to feel that lovely throb of pleasure before hand. Probably not, though. Probably she'd just fall asleep again. Or watch Inu-Yasha or something. It was hard to think about life when they might lay you off in less than 24 hours. Maybe she'd go to the movies or something after that.