The Tale of Dribbles

Operation Coffee Deprivation

Operation Coffee Deprivation

 “After watching your performance this quarter and keeping a close eye on our profit margin, we have decided to let you go. You have served our blah to the fullest blah and blah blah.” Bob watched the bald spot pulse as Mr. Jefferson attempted to explain why he was firing him after twenty five years. In the business world, Bob was a little slow. He focused primarily on computer programming and didn’t care about profit margins.

A small chuckle hiccupped out of his throat as he remembered the picture he had encrypted into the last email of his career. The bald head of Mr. Jefferson appeared with a nice black line through it. The line, perfectly drawn over the rough bald noggin portrayed his true feelings for the man. Every time the email gets forwarded, the recipient would be in for a surprise. Bob was certain the butt crack joke would be seen by all the big spenders before it was said and done. This thought alone was better than anything they could offer him for his time.

Anger crept into his blood stream, turning his complexion a strawberry tint. The more words that spewed from the mouth of the traitor, the harder it became to concentrate. The blah blahs were replaced with a fictitious underlying meaning.

“So... in short Bob, I am a jerk! I’m ugly and bald and make three times your salary. I will get a huge bonus if I fire you. I will then pay someone six dollars and hour less to do your job. I know it was you pooping in the plant holders in the lobby, (it was) so security will show you out. Oh, by the way Bob, My brand new red Porsche is not scratch proof, so feel free to use your sharpest car keys to teach me a lesson!”

A large sigh squeezed its way out of his lungs. This, followed by the slow movement of his defeated body rising from the cold wooden chair was the only response he could manage. He knew Mr. Jefferson didn’t say anything remotely close to that but didn’t care. One black loafer in front of the other he walked. He walked slowly to the door feeling the dead glare of an over-rated man burrow into the back of his skull.

Two sharply dressed security officers waited for him on the other side of the door. Slowly, the curvy golden handle of the office door turned. Slam. Slam. After the third hard smash, Bob managed to get escorted down the long corridor towards the lobby. The checkered marble seemed to taunt him as shame grew deep within. The colors seemed even more vivid than he remembered.

Stomping past the water fountain, he spotted three corporate slackers telling the same jokes as always. He slowly turned towards them with a crooked smile upon his face. By now, he was sure that word had swept through the office at sub-atomic speeds. Not only that, but it managed to make it to Jupiter and back. Right now some poor schmuck of an alien is pointing his finger down to Earth and laughing at him. They all knew, he was sure of it.

Silence fell upon the room. They were waiting on him to leave. Waiting on him to hold his head down in shame and march out of the office. He was going to have none of it... no way... not a chance. Bob did the opposite. Standing upon the shadows of three very important men, something very unexpected happened. He laughed. He not only laughed but gasped for air. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his foot thumped against the floor echoing through the entire room.

About the time he started dipping his tie into the water fountain and sucking the water off, those same nicely dressed security guards walked him out of his office for good. The Last thing anyone remembers Bob saying that day was “Beware of the squirrels in diapers, they don’t understand Greek.” Bob slowly walked towards the yellow curb. Random thoughts plagued him as he sat down and wept. “Twenty five years of my life gone.” He thought glumly of the memories from his years of servitude and found it ironic how much time was spent wishing for a different job.