“You don’t have any, yet. It’s under three months. You should have put up a better front.”
      “Fuck you, Bob.”
      “Well, yeah. Anyway, why don’t you just sign the release, Steve, and I’ll give you your cheque, your full severance and this month’s pay, as well as continued medical coverage for the rest of the year. That’s what your contract calls for, and I’ll honor it. Have a nice life, Steve.” I pushed the release across the desk to him and laid my fat Mont Blanc pen beside it.
      On his way out of my office, he intentionally hooked a leg around a cable coming out of my computer monitor, so that it crashed to the ground as he passed. But his nastiness backfired on him when a glass shard sliced through his pants and into his ankle. He left a bloody trail all the way to the elevator.
      Annamaria’s reaction as she entered my office a minute later, was to glance down at the blood and say, “Bob, in this country we don’t usually find it necessary to maim people when we fire them.”
      Just then, I noticed that my very expensive Mont Blanc pen was gone. “He stole my pen,” I burst out.
      “Then you had every right to torture him,” she said, looking down at the bloody trail, again.”
      Of course, Steve filed suit against the company for the cut on his leg, and against me, personally, for assault, but he quickly dropped the suits when I phoned him and metaphorically waved the report that gave the details of his embezzling. Not surprisingly,

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