Today at work, a guy got fired two cubicles away from mine. I didn’t even know at all. I literally looked up outside my cubicle before noon and noticed that his name plate and all of his crap was gone. Also, his computer and phone.
Remember how I was talking about secrets? I didn’t hear a fucking thing, even as they walked him outside the building (“The Walk of Shame” as we refer to it), or unplugged and removed his computer, or ripped his existence out of his cubicle. Did. Not. Know.
Apparently, he took two hour lunches and blamed the Big Boss for his mistakes on the job. If there’s anyone in this office not to blame, it’s that dude.
My former supervisor and I were chatting later in the day as to what events lead to this untimely demise for my now former co-worker. “There’s hasn’t been too many people fired, really.” I said to him.
“Oh really? I thought there was alot.” He replied.
“Hm, I can only think of five in the past two years.”
“Nope, there was seven.”
I thought for a minute, trying to recollect who I may have forgotten. “Who were those last two?” I said, as I rattled off the names I knew off of the top of my head.
“Oh, well, Kitsy obviously. And the old Manager. You know, right after he got caught getting that blowjob from Kitsy in the file banks down the hall.”
Not Another Government Drone 