"Fuck 'em," said Derich giving the world the finger. "Fuck 'em right in the pie hole!" He put his feet up on the ottoman.
"And then I was asking myself should I quit or just wait for them to..." I tried to continue.
"Fuck them and fuck that! You do not quit! You hang on to that job until they fire you. If you quit you get nothing. Now if they fire you," he said smiling, "they have to explain it. You have too much going on now to just walk away. Besides if you walk away they win."
He was the second person to say that. In my mind everyone had already lost. There were not going to be any winners here, just people nursing bruised egos and mending broken promises.
"Yes, I know. I get it." My cat moved from her perch on the back of the couch to my lap. Her freshly shaved belly was warm. She had been incredibly cuddly since her visit to the emergency room. Two thousand dollars later she was home. I wasn't sure how long she was here for but she was here now. We had that in common.
"Trust me," he said pointing to the ceiling.
Derich was the king of getting fired lately. He had actually done very well for himself over the last few years but in an unorthodox way. Six years ago he had worked his way up to an executive level at an international company. When the market crashed they let him go. At first he was worried about how he was going to make ends meet until he got his severance package. It wasn't what he was used to making but it was more money than most people see in five years.
Three years ago it happened again. This time it was more than what most people see in a decade. He was chomping at the bit to get fired from this latest company because they were known for golden parachutes.
"Most of my department is about to get canned. I love it."
"You are a lunatic."
"I get the summer off. We'll go visit her parents for a few weeks, which will suck, but for the most part I get to enjoy some quality time with Karen and the kids."
He laced his fingers and smiled.
"So how much is the buy out?" He asked coming back to our conversation.
"The what?" I started laughing.
"The buy out! How much are they going to pay you to walk out the door and keep your mouth shut?"
"Buy out? Man, there is no buy out. They just walk me out. I'm going to have to fight for my vacation time."
He stared at me blankly.
"You've been there, what, five or ten years, right?" He asked slowly.
"Yes. About five or ten years."
"No buy out?" He asked incredulously.
"Nope. No buy out for me. I'll be lucky if the patch of land they drop me over has grass to break my fall. I have no golden parachute."
There was a long pause.
"What'd you make last year?"
I gave him the number and he almost choked.
"It's time for you to take that job working for your friend in Hartford. If you can survive on the amount you just told me you'd kill it as a financial planner. If I made that little I'd be living in a cardboard box. A very small cardboard box."
"Well now that makes me feel better." I said shaking my head. "I can't work for him. For him or with him or whatever. Friends and money don't mix. I value his friendship too much to have work get in the way."
He looked at his watch then rubbed his forehead.
"I have to meet Karen for lunch. She wants to go over our finances before the layoff. Look," he said standing up to leave, "if I were you I would just buckle down and make as much as you can for as long as you can. Have the best year you've ever had. That way if they fire you they have to explain it."
"Then what?" I asked. My cat perked her head up like she was waiting for an answer, too.
"Fuck 'em," he said. "Fuck 'em right in the pie hole!"
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