Gross Misconduct

“I fired the receptionist today,” Laverne announced, picking up her menu.

“Who? Mildred?”

“Was that her name?”

“That sweet, old lady who’s worked there forty years?”

“It was her time.”

“That’s the same thing the vet said when Dad reversed over Thumper,” I was both shocked and appalled. “What the hell happened?”

“You know those motivational messages people put up at work: Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Be the change that you wish to see in the world… that type of thing? Well, when I walked past reception this morning I noticed that one had appeared on the wall behind her. It read: You don’t have to be crazy to work here… but it helps!”

“Don’t you think you overreacted?”

“She’d written it in her own excrement.”

“It was her time.”

“It was.”

Tale End

Where’s Monica? a colleague asked

The heating’s not turned up enough

It’s not as if she’s over-tasked

To take care of this kind of stuff.

Where’s Monica? another chimed

It’s 9:05, we’ve got no milk

Do we now have to have her timed?

Her job? Her breaks? Her type? Her ilk?

I never bother, you know me

Head down, work hard and see it through

But did she get the gluten-free?

If not, my bowels will turn to glue.

The printer’s low on paper too

Delivery was yesterday

It’s just one flight, it isn’t two

So why the need for this delay?

I saw her tumble down the stairs

The look of shock upon her face

Those sandwiches went everywhere

And crystal’s not cheap to replace.

What if she’s poorly, do we know?

Those files won’t files themselves today

Or HR, did they let her go?

For if they did, they didn’t say.

No, Monica is fine and well

She hasn’t quit, she wasn’t fired

Her colleagues didn’t hear her tell

In one week’s time she’d be retired.

So now she sits as each day ends

With husband, Jim, and the odd glass

And smiles at what she left for them:

A photocopy of her ass.