“You’re fired!” my head boss shouted at me as I was suddenly shoved out his office door. I stood there flabbergasted for a second, still in shock of the drastic turn my life had just made. I consider ripping the family picture off of the corkboard on his door and tearing it to shreds, just to make a point. He would be furious because every picture of his pink clad teenage daughter is worth as much to him as the real thing. It’s not like he’s ever home with his real family often enough to see her. I’m cut off from my thoughts when my more immediate boss comes up to me put his hand on my shoulder. “I just want to let you know I think he is absolutely crazy for letting you go. I don’t know where on earth he got the idea that you were smoking weed. You’re the last person in our office I’d expect to do such a thing.” He took one last sigh before continuing, “You’ve got until the end of the day before your company ID stops working, so clean out your desk at your leisure. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help”. He patted me on my back a few times before walking off. I took a few deep breaths and tried to bottle my anger and frustration a bit before walking over to my desk. If I was a cartoon character, there would still be steam coming from my ears and I would slide everything off my desk – computer included - in to my backpack with a single swipe. But I’m not. So I resign myself to quickly and quietly picking up all my important or personal items and
