Greg thought back to last week, to last Friday. To 4:43PM. A quiet knock on the frame of the open door behind him pulled him from his work at his computer. He turned to see his boss, a small, ruddy man, in the doorway, abnormally silent. Greg guessed at the reason for the visit "Hey, Joey. That report is about half-way...", but Joe cut him off. "Listen, Greg. We're letting you go. I want you to know, I told her that you were the best, and that we should fire Bobby instead, but...". Greg scratched his forehead. "So, she fired both of us, didn't she". Joe looked behind him, and turned slightly to smack the door frame loudly with his open palm. "Fucking H.R., Greg. I was going to tell you yesterday, but they made me...". Greg finished the thought "They made you wait until now, so no one had time to go postal.". Joe nodded and folded his hairy arms across his chest. "There's no way we're going to get shipments out, next month", Joe stated. Greg exhaled slowly, and stood up. "Well, I guess you have my check?". Joe looked behind him again, and motioned for Greg to come over. "Listen, they were going to mail you your check next week, but fuck that. If they don't like it, they can kiss my Mick ass. I already cut you a check, yesterday, before they could tell me not to.". Greg shook Joe's hand firmly, thanked him, took the check, and left the building. In the parking lot, he knocked twice on the large tinted window adorning the side of the H.R. office, then calmly poured out his full cup of stale, sugary coffee onto the floor and driver's seat of her Mercedes Benz convertible. He could hear her coming out the side door and yelling histerically as he spun the tires.