print

The Executive Decision

“Sebastian, you’re an entertaining, charismatic young man and a talented intern, but I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave. Here’s your last scotch for the road.”
“I beg your pardon sir?”
“Take your scotch.”
“Thank you Mr. Samson, but I don’t understand. Did I say something to offend you?”
“No, it’s nothing you said. Could I bother you for a cigarette before you go?”
“Uh—Sure—Yes—Of course. Here you are.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome sir.”
“Curious, you’re smoking a pack of Chesterfield’s. Where’s that smart cigarette case you tout about in the office?”
“I—I seem to have lost it sir.”
“Well, lucky for you, I seem to have found it. I have it right here, in my chest pocket. This is your case isn’t it?”
“Y-Yes it is Mr. Samson. Thank you sir. Where—where did you find it? In the office?”
“Sebastian, you’re white as a ghost—I thought you’d be absolutely giddy to see this charming little case again.”
“No—yes—I mean—I am happy to see it again Mr. Samson.”
“Sebastian.”
“Yes sir.”
“I found your cigarette case under my wife’s side of the bed.”
“Sir—”
“Shut up! Where did you think my wife could get you? This is my company! My company Sebastian—not her company—my company.”
“I am so sorry sir. Am I—am I fired?”
“Fired? You can’t fire a dead man. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Sebastian, by way of the balcony, or by way of the gun. The executive decision is yours my boy.”

END
© 2005 Christian Cloud Abraham

Posted on September 25, 2005 in
Emotion: Anger, Type: Fiction