PINK SLIP David Partington
Pink Slip
Copyright © 2025 by David Partington All Rights Reserved
First Digital Publication April 2025
Cover Design by Finnialla Wright Published by PULP Literary Magazine pulplitmag.com
During the two-and-a-half years she'd worked at the Regency Hotel, Meredith had never seen a bare bottom. So it came as a shock when she returned from two weeks in Quebec City and learned that the beach across the street was being rezoned 'clothing optional' and that a man's bottom had been spotted in the bushes right outside the hotel.
"It was last Friday. I saw it plain as day," said Trish, one of the new maids, sitting with Meredith in the staff break room.
"That's disturbing," said Meredith. "Of course, legally, women have been able to go topless for years, but practically no one ever does it."
Trish chewed her gum pensively. "Well, I guess topless-bottomless is going to be a whole different thing."
"But even if the rezoning was a done deal and City Council had ratified it, what's a naked man doing so far from the beach? You can barely hear the waves from here."
Meredith's boyfriend, a bellboy named Randy, appeared at the door to the hallway. "She's back!" he called brightly as he passed through the staff kitchen area into the break room.
After jumping up and embracing him, Meredith stood back and admired his appearance. "Whoa— this is new." She looked him up and down, impressed by his new uniform—a flashy affair with gold brocade and epaulets. "So handsome."
"Yeah, not bad," said Randy, tucking his shirt into his pants.
"You missed a few buttons," Trish pointed out.
"Yeah. So many buttons on these things. Kind of a pain, but they look spiffy. In the face of rezoning, they say The Regency is going strictly old school—but with panache. I like the peaked cap, but I feel like there should be some medals— don't you think?" He lifted his chin and puffed out his chest. "It gets hot, though. Sometimes I wish I could just tear it off. You gals are lucky your new uniforms aren't so heavy."
"Why, what are they like?" asked Meredith with apprehension.
Trish shrugged. "Meh. It’s just another black dress. Same black pantyhose and pumps we wear now, only with white aprons. My uniforms are being altered ‘cause I like ‘em snug."
Of course you do, thought Meredith.
"There are a bunch of them on the kitchen counter in different sizes. You need to try them on soon so they can make alterations."
"Everyone's got to be ready for the official launch next Saturday," added Randy. He yanked up his pants again. "I assume these things are going to shrink, right?"
Meredith was uneasy. "I hope they don't make us wear one of those little lace headpieces like the French maid outfits in costume stores," she said, placing her hands gently on her prim updo. Meredith may have been a humble maid, but even when she was fluffing pillows, she had the regal bearing of a princess.
"Ooh—I'd love a little headpiece," said Trish. "Really, Randy, you should suggest it to the managers now that they're taking you seriously."
Randy had long been floundering, but under Meredith's firm hand, he'd begun taking evening classes in hotel management and now appeared poised to take over the position of head bellboy.
One of his best qualities, so far as Meredith was concerned, was that he was delightfully malleable.
"Did you hear about the man on the beach wearing a jacket and tie this morning?” he asked, pulling up a chair. “He was like a proper businessman only with his 'business' hanging out."
"You mean..." began Meredith.
"That's right; no pants."
"So people could see his..."
"Yup—his whole portfolio."
Meredith recoiled in disgust. "Dear Lord. A suit only makes it worse. I guess all you could do is cover your eyes."
"Not me. I'd just laugh," said Trish. "I mean, what the hell, we're all naked under our clothes."
"Speak for yourself!"
Trish blew a bubble. "So, what are you saying?"
“I’m saying, if God wanted us naked, he’d have created us that way. Let’s hope they catch that guy before he causes any trouble.”
Randy stiffened. "Oh, well, things happen. Times are changing, after all. The Regency can't afford to lag behind. Rezoning the beach is just the start."
"So, it doesn't bother you?" asked Meredith. "I thought you said The Regency was going to be strictly old school."
"You see, Meredith, there's one thing I've learned about the hotel business: it all comes down to property tax differentials and catering to traditional and non-traditional clientele in terms of incentives to increase occupancy rates while curtailing construction costs."
"Wow, you've learned all that after being in the course for just three weeks?" asked Trish.
"No, that was from the blurb in the course catalog. I memorized it," he said, tapping the side of his head. "Let's hope it was enough to impress the boss at last Friday's interview."
"Beauty and brains," said Trish as Randy preened, adjusting his cuffs and cap. Meredith was getting annoyed. "But surely you don't like the idea of a toplessbottomless beach so close? Think of the tone that sets and the riff-raff and degenerates it'll attract to the neighborhood. It'll be Sodom and Gomorrah all over again."
"Well," said Randy, "if nude seems like a big step, I figure City Council could have a transitional period where it's more of a lingerie beach."
"What? No, no," said Meredith, shaking her head. "That's as bad as the man in the jacket and tie."
"Say what you will but make no mistake: if people don't like the choices made by management, they'll be out. I've heard certain maids could be getting pink slips."
"That sounds highly inappropriate!" Meredith huffed, imagining for a moment that he was talking about giving maids lingerie as gifts. But then the penny dropped, and the full gravity of his words dawned on her.
Part of what she loved about Randy was his calm, humorous attitude in the face of adversity, which nicely balanced her own tendency to become lost in anger. But now his demeanor had become solemn and stern.
“If I get my promotion, I’ll wield whatever influence I can,” he said, folding his arms, “but I make no promises. Fight the trends at your own peril.”
Meredith stuck to her guns. "It's just not right. Once The Regency becomes associated with freewheeling debauchery, our VIP clientele will be lost."
"Oh, please," said Trish. "Who cares about freewheeling debauchery in this day and age?"
"I'll tell you who: Gordon Peters, the professor who does the 'What's Right' podcast in which he berates the youth of today. He's checking into room 316 at noon, and he's going to care very much."
Trish didn't buy it. "People like that are always big phonies."
"Well, I just pray he doesn't run into the naked guy, or he'll broadcast it across the country. We should all be on our best behavior."
Randy leaned over to Trish and whispered something. Trish snickered.
"I heard that," said Meredith, rising to her feet. Actually, she'd heard nothing, but assumed they were making fun of her. "I've got beds to make," she said, heading out the door.
"Don't forget the uniforms," Randy called after her.
Shaking her head, Meredith passed through the doorway to the kitchen area leading to the hall. At the far end of the counter, past the coffee pot and some dirty dishes, was a small pile of uniforms, with white aprons on a nearby table.
"Ooh, now you've got her going," she heard Trish say softly in the other room.
Prior to her vacation, Meredith hadn't noticed any chemistry between Randy and Trish. True, Randy had once described the peroxide blonde as "a real pistol," but Meredith assumed that was a bad thing because she herself was more mature.
Reflecting angrily on all the time and energy she'd spent trying to whip Randy into marriage material, Meredith scooped up all the dresses and aprons under her arm and headed out.
Her first stop was room 316, where she was to put down clean bedding in preparation for Gordon Peters' arrival. Other staff had already taken off the sheets. It seemed like as good a place as any to try on the uniforms.
She dropped them on the bed, then went to the window, still concerned about what Prof. Peters might see. No naked people were out gallivanting, but something even more disturbing: Randy and the little blonde firecracker were walking across the street together, heading toward the beach.
They were thick as thieves, those two; that much was clear. And what was all that talk of pink slips? Maybe Trish was planning to get her fired so she'd be out of the way. And Randy might even go along with it now that she'd ensnared him with her wiles.
Meredith’s mind was made up; if it were true and she was really getting a pink slip then she’d spill the beans to Gordon Peters about her scandalous mistreatment so the whole world could hear about it.
As her thoughts raced, she struggled to focus on the task at hand. Spreading the uniforms out on the bed, she discovered that the white fabric she'd taken to be aprons was just scrap cloth. That left her with two black dresses, neither of which had a size marked clearly on the collar.
The suite door was locked, but since all the staff had keys, she decided to change in the bathroom so no one could barge in.
The bathroom was spotless, with new soaps and towels, and everything smelling of Windex. She double-checked the bathroom lock. They were quirky, unreliable things. A year earlier, Randy had famously removed his pants in a bathroom and somehow managed to get himself locked out.
The first dress she tried was on the small side, barely containing Meredith's athletic frame, while the second was worse, scarcely fitting over her head. There had to be a bigger one somewhere, maybe under the white cloth on the bed.
As she opened the bathroom door, she didn't hear the lock click open. Strange. She thought she'd pushed the button inside the knob, but it was as if the mechanism was stuck. This made her uneasy. Playing it safe, she pushed the button, then stepped outside to try the door from the other side. Success. The door was locked.
Her idea, of course, was to reopen the door using her key, forgetting that her keys, along with her clothes and phone, were still in the bathroom. An initial feeling of disbelief was soon replaced by panic, as she shook the knob and rammed the door with her shoulder. But it was no use.
With no sheets on the beds and the curtains hung well out of reach near the high ceiling, her only option was to cover herself with the scrap cloth.
The fabric turned out to be a long, narrow strip, like a table runner or a promotional banner. Wasting no time, she did her best to wind it around her torso, then went to the door of the suite. With her ear to the door, she heard voices in the hall. It would be terrible enough for hotel guests to see her half-dressed, given all the talk of pink slips, but even worse would be the
unspeakable humiliation if co-workers found out that she'd 'pulled a Randy.'
Somehow, she had to get back down to the breakroom. Then she could get the spare key and return to the bathroom to retrieve her stuff. To do that unseen required a quick dash across the hall to an emergency exit leading to the fire escape at the back of the building.
The fire escape was a rickety structure, and gusting winds tugged at Meredith’s strip of fabric, putting her lacy undergarments at constant risk of exposure.
Her nerves jangling, she crouched down on the steel steps every time she thought she heard a voice or, worse, a rustling in the trees that might presage a naked man.
Upon reaching ground level, she reentered the building through a side door just a few steps from her destination. The next scheduled break wasn't for another twenty minutes, yet as she passed through the kitchen area, she was filled with trepidation. At last, she came to the always-open door that swung into the breakroom, on the back of which hung the spare master key.
Stepping around to the back of the door, she reached up with both her arms to unhook the key. As she did this, two things happened: she heard voices approaching from the kitchen and felt a sickening whoosh as the cloth strip glided down to her ankles.
"I don't have a problem with nudity. It's only natural."
"Oh, I get it. Don't think I don't get it."
It was Randy and Trish.
"Meredith's problem is that she's a little too predictable," said Randy. "A relationship needs surprises. I told her that, and she just looked at me and said, 'I'm not surprised you think that.'"
Meredith's stomach dropped. Feeling very exposed standing in the cool air, she tried to pull the door closer. The strip of cloth was in the way, so she pushed it out to one side with her foot, then pulled the door even closer just as the voices became louder.
"Do you think she's beginning to suspect?"
"Oh, probably," said Randy. "She always suspects something." Damn right! thought Meredith.
"How did this get here?" asked Trish, snapping away the bit of cloth near the door. "Look, I had it made specially as a surprise."
"Wow. You're the best, Trish. I mean that."
A minute later, their voices had lowered.
"So how are we going to do this?" asked Randy. "Let's get on the table."
A whole lurid tableau began unfolding in Meredith's imagination.
"We've got fifteen minutes, probably longer," said Trish. "I noticed Meredith hadn't made her rounds with the sheets yet. She's still got to do 316."
"Right. Let's get down to business. Do you want me to help you with that?"
"Such a gentleman. You've got a real flair for this kind of thing."
Meredith's rage was coming to a boil when there was a knock on the other side of the open door that Meredith was standing behind. She held her breath.
"Is it okay for us to come in?"
"Sure," said Trish. "The more, the merrier."
"Just so long as your name isn't Meredith."
That did it. "What's going on?" Meredith shouted, exploding out from behind the door. "Oh." She froze in her tracks. "What's going on?" she repeated, this time in a very soft voice.
Randy, standing on the table, looked like a deer caught in headlights. Trish appeared equally surprised but quickly offered Meredith the warmest smile imaginable, pointing to the banner hung across the breakroom wall, reading 'Good Luck!' The room was also hung with streamers picked up by Randy and Trish at the party store across the street.
"I got the promotion," said Randy in a faltering voice, climbing down from the table that had been moved up against the wall. "But, holy smoke, this isn't how I'd envisioned this unfolding..."
He pulled a little box from the pocket of his drooping pants and dropped to one knee. "My beloved Meredith..."
Meredith gasped with delight. "I can't believe it. I'm so surprised!"
"You're surprised?" sputtered Randy. He started again. "My wonderful, beautiful Meredith, will you do me the honor of—"
"Yes. Yes, I will do you that honor."
"Of being my lawfully wedded—"
"I will!" She thrust out her hand with spread fingers. "—wife."
The ring on, she threw herself into Randy's arms as Trish looked on benevolently.
Applause sounded behind them as five maids, three bellboys, front desk staff, cooks, and the Concierge appeared, all gathering around the happy couple while more well-wishers poured in the door.
"I gotta say, you really are the limit," said Randy with admiration. "The way you just burst out of nowhere—and dressed like a Victoria's Secret model!"
These words brought Meredith back to reality. Blushing from head to toe, she squirmed out of Randy's grasp. "Give me your jacket," she commanded.
"Yes, ma'am," said Randy, whipping off his oversized bellboy jacket and wrapping it around Meredith's shoulders. "All that stuff about the lingerie beach and pink slips and so forth—I was just kidding around to throw you off the scent. Honestly, you didn't have to prove anything."
"No, it wasn't like that. I was trying on the uniforms in one of the suites, and I had an accident...If you must know, I pulled a Randy."
"Those bathroom knobs are tricky devils. It happens to the best of us. Do you want the cap, too?" he asked, holding it out.
"No."
"Go on, take it."
She swatted it away as she accepted a hug from Trish and congratulations from the roomful of people. "At least I surprised you."
"My dear Meredith, nothing could surprise me now."
There was another knock on the open breakroom door.
"Sorry to disturb you all. I've been hanging around all morning. I was supposed to check in at noon, but room 316 still isn't ready..."
As all heads turned, Gordon Peters, standing in the doorway adjusting his tie, drew gasps of astonishment. Trish laughed and Meredith covered her eyes.
Prof. Peters had just returned from the beach.
David Partington is an omnivorous mammal, most active during daylight hours. He came into this world at a very young age and has found his subsequent mortal existence to be a reliable source of amusement.