You’re Firing Me?
Did you find the bottle of Stoli in my bottom-right desk drawer? Behind the hanging file folders? Because I would have locked it, but I lost the key.
Do the words “gross incompetence” mean anything at all to you people?
Is it because I’m running a Web site from my work computer? I’d have done it from home, honest, but those kiddie-porn pictures take up huge bandwidth and my shitty 56.6 modem is no match for your fancy T1.
Look, I know I have a lot of knickknacks on my desk, but the shrunken pygmy heads bring me luck. They were blessed by a Masai warrior, you know.
Is this because you didn’t get a Xeroxed copy of my ass, like everyone else in the office?
O.K., there’s a nickel bag in it for you if you keep me on.
Just because I invited some cheap Russian hookers here after hours? God, didn’t you guys ever see Night Shift? No? Not a Henry Winkler fan, huh?
Just for the record, everyone else thought it was hilarious that I used the three-hole punch that way.
I have the employee manual right here and I don’t see anything about unleashing a vicious wolverine on the receptionist being wrong.
Is it because I’m not black?
It was just a mannequin. I’d never do that to a real person!
O.K., I don’t care what the authorities say. Jodie Foster is stalking me.
‘Office casual?’ You don’t get more casual than a stolen Holiday Inn bathrobe!
I swear “boyzone.com” is a musical boy-band fan site.