The tension is palpable the day after the announcement of this powerful news that leaves no one indifferent. After returning from the holidays, the smiles instantly turned into funeral tunes. As soon as the new fall, the premises where he normally live to listen to conversations and bursts of laughter that normally prevent me from concentrating, my cubicle being adjacent to the main corridor, were bartered for a most scary silence. Between the walls of this open space, the more a sound is heard, the more a word is pronounced. Everyone is waiting for his turn in the Technoparc Purgatory.

We have been waiting for two days. No communication from our immediate superior or our director. No word to reassure us, let alone motivate us. The daily team meetings that our manager had carefully taken the time to plan a week in advance were all canceled. Not a word is said, but when you meet a senior officer in the corridors, he looks at us and lowers his head, as if he knew something about us, as if our fate was already decided and that everything the world knew him except us ... or is it paranoia that has seized my reason?

In perpetual waiting, we see business partners in human resources who walk like executioners accompanied by their condemned they bring one by one in a secluded room. They do not really seem to enjoy this dirty job. It can even be assumed that it disgusts them, but someone has to do it. The fraternal conversations at the coffee machine are nothing more than a few uncomfortable glances that whisper in silence: "I know what you think, I think the same thing. We do not have the right to discuss it, but ... I'm sorry. "

At the end of the corridor is the cubicle of a friend. She gives me news as she receives them from the third floor, where is his friend who sees the facts live. Indeed, his working group was imminently affected by the staff cuts. Their heads are now priced like vulgar little beasts queuing for slaughter, hearing the cries of their suffering predecessors. They return one by one to their office and pick up their belongings in a flash. Time to say it, the office is empty, clean, virgin, as if nothing had ever happened. It is then that I wonder which of the suplices is the worst between dismissal or waiting in total ignorance. And while this colleague told the story to my friend as a reporter in the war zone, a slap on his shoulder is felt. His time has come ...

It has been three days since I have not been paying attention, mainly because we are not told any details. My teammate told me yesterday that he had seen our manager in the human resources office. The games are done, nothing goes. Rumors have it that the management has decided to proceed by seniority to thank the employees for their services at lower cost. Lack of skin, I am the youngest of my team with two years of experience. The young dynamic executive that I am cannot compete against the ten, fifteen and even twenty-five years of experiences that predominate in my work team. A colleague tried to reassure me by mentioning my young age as a pillar of his argument. He develops his thought for several minutes by telling me that I have the luxury of being more easily hired because of my low cost for the company that decided to sponsor me, given my low number of personal and family obligations ( no child, no mortgage, no stress), I could even afford to wait a few months to shop around for my next business choice. According to him, my possibilities are endless: "I'd love to be in your position! The sky is the limit! You're young, you're smart, you're ambitious! Go nuts! "I will go nuts all right if I do not have news soon! And all I can think is that this colleague has an interest in finishing his presentation quickly if I do not want to be caught arguing in spite of myself, instead of working. To paraphrase Gad Elmaleh in his very first show Décalages, normally it's the noise that bothers you, but today it's the silence that kills us!

Today, I decided to put on my best work clothes. My black iron jacket, my black checkered shirt on a white background, my cufflinks, my black silk tie and my stainless steel tie clip. Impeccable look, freshly cut hair, scented neck, I really put on my 31. These clothes could probably lure the people I'm going to meet today, making them believe that my esteem is inflated, that I'm ready to spray everything on my way. Get stuck, here is an ambitious young man who is ready to take the place of the dismissed, a little like a young Wal-Mart with strong kidneys who settles there or a flapping Zellers was once established. But, in fact, I rather wear my funeral suit that will accompany me on my last rest. Being younger, my father had told me a story. He was a man he had known because he had been a client at the market he held when I was a child. This man was not doing well and one day he decided to buy the most expensive suit he could find and then put on and throw himself in the Rivière-des-Prairies. Today, that's how I feel. To have the class for his funeral, it is a little the last breath of honor that one has before facing the worst. The phone has just rang. On the screen appears the name of our administrative assistant. I answer and she asks me if I can make myself available for an emergency meeting at 11:30 am. My first reflex was to ask him to specify if it was a meeting alone or with the whole team. My heart is throbbing and the tension in the air has never been so palpable that you can cut it with a knife. (To be continued...)