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Canned MAG
It started with two quick pulls of his index finger,
a signal for me to go to him.
I could see it coming.
An instant shield of sweat
formed over my now reddened face as I struggled to drag
my lead feet and unbending legs toward him
My whole body could see it coming.
As I walked the many miles from my counter
to his office, the others
just stared at the floor.
They knew my fate.
But as I continued my journey,
my fear turned partially to hope.
It probably wasn't what I thought.
It could never happen to me.
Paranoia - that's all it was.
I arrived.
He had a fixed look on his face, but
it wasn't a look of good news or bad news really.
Just a look of indifference.
Ah, indifference - I still had a 50% chance.
The conversation lasted for about a minute and
90 or so words were said.
But I only really remember the last seconds
and the last few words.
YOU'RE FIRED.
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