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My Turn I was summoned, not to a conference room, but to my boss's office and -- like you know before the doctor's lips part -- I knew. He stood up, as nice as if I were a new hire, and offered me a chair. The walls didn't move. The ceiling, anonymous off-white, stayed put. The floor remained flat as the bottom line. 
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The Letter lay on his desk like a puddle of pus. Eliminated ...? My job -- the hours, sweat, heart, even love I put into it -- mere waste passed through the corporate anus without a trace of odor, not an ounce of animus? My career -- for the rest of its tiny eternity -- downhill from here? No more the big bucks,  |
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