I Kept the Screenshots Anyway

Ben's goodbye drinks run past last call, past when anyone sober would still be sitting at this table, and when it's his turn to be toasted, our manager says he's proud of how far Ben's come, how quick a study he was.

I trained him. Eight weeks, every ticket, every client he was scared to call back. Nobody says my name tonight, which is fine, that's not how these things work.

Under the table I open a folder on my phone I made his first month, screenshots of every mistake, a misfiled invoice, an email sent to the wrong account, all of it labeled onboarding reference in case he ever needed a refresher.

He hasn't needed a refresher in over a year. I still added to it three nights ago, the night they told me he got the promotion instead of me. An old screenshot I'd never gotten around to using, sitting there like I'd been saving it for something.

I raise my glass when everyone else does. I mean it, mostly.

Walking to my car after, I think about deleting the folder. I don't. I tell myself it's still useful, in case he ever needs it again. He won't. I know that too.