Alan is looking lost. Lost and confused. And badly dressed. It wasn’t his fault. He always looked like his mother dressed him. It’s been over 12 years since his mother passed away though. People are beginning to talk.

He’s a shy guy, a bit nerdy, but genuinely very nice. He’s always willing to chip in and help out no matter what. That’s what made it all so difficult.

It’s up to me to fire Alan. I became his supervisor only a few months ago, and Alan, despite being an excellent worker, doesn’t fit in.

There are other’s I’d rather get rid of. Plenty of non-productive people. But these are orders from on high.

I sound like the losing side of World War II, “I was only following orders.”

I remember a former boss of mine who insisted that it was better to fire someone early in the workweek, therefore you won’t ruin their weekend. I told him that was bullshit, no matter what day, you are fucking up someone’s life regardless.

So here it is, Wednesday and I have to call Alan into my office. The morale of the office has been on the wane, and though I know it’s not Alan’s fault, he is the sacrificial lamb.

I just had the sneaking suspicion that Alan could be the gun enthusiast type, meaning the type to come in and shoot me, or someone else.

The quiet type.

The neighbors’ always cliché, ‘Oh he was nice. Kept to himself. Never saw this happening’ It’s been said so many times already and will probably be said again. Gotta watch out for the quiet types. The ones that keep to themselves. Like Alan. But I got to keep my game face on. Not show any fear.

Yet I also have to appear concerned and compassionate. Three emotional balls I have to juggle.

I could use a drink. But no, it’ll have to wait until after Alan.
I’d ask him out for a drink with me, but that probably wouldn’t be that good an idea.

It’s 3:45 now. I guess I should have him come in here at 4:00. I really don’t want to do this, but I have no choice.

This is the corporate world. I am part of it.

Someday someone will come and give me the ax for whatever reason.

Unless Alan comes in here with a gun and blows my brains out. Wouldn’t be a good idea on Alan’s part though.

And I’m not in favor of it either.

This is such bullshit. I’m paranoid that a coworker of mine is going to kill me because I have to fire him.

I should say lay off instead. Not as harsh as firing. Downsizing is a contemporary word. I could have Alan come in here, have him sit down, look him right in the face and say, “Don’t shoot me.” No wait, that’s not it.

Look him right in the face and say, ‘Alan, the company isn’t doing as well as we had hoped. I’ve been giving orders to start downsizing, and unfortunately Alan, we have to let you go.”

Yeah that sounds good. I can get by with that. Maybe a handshake at the end too.

“Alan, could you come in here please? There’s something I need to discuss with you. Please don’t shoot me”

Last night turned out to be amazing. Very lovely. Love and sex. Intense, really fun sex. Woo hoo! Fantastic. Sorry if I’m gloating. Fuck it. It’s my blog. I am an American artist and I have no guilt. Whee! Things are presently pretty good with Bill and me. Work is not so bad. It must be the beginning of the holiday season. I hope I don’t peak too soon. I held out last night, that’s for sure.

Interview tomorrow, looks promising. I had a pang of sadness when I thought about leaving the company that gave me so much and is taking twice as much. It’s certainly not the same place I started at all those years ago. A lot of people have moved on. More expected to leave.

Very few friends and allies there. After the holidays and the feeling of something that resembles goodwill, the bullshit will most definitely return. Ideally I’d like to get the job and tell everyone at the Holiday party. A flair for drama, no? Me floating around the bar, slightly inebriated, whispering sweet ‘I’m leaving the company in two weeks’ into various friendly ears. And perhaps some ambivalent ones as well.

I can keep really important secrets, but as many of my friends will tell you, I can’t really keep any of my own. Hence, this blog.

The problem I have with my writing sometimes, is that I often write with trepidation. I worry about what certain people will think when I post this. Last night I didn’t. I was rather balls to the wall. And several other times as well.

I figure (and it’s a major point with me), that if you don’t want to read it, don’t read it. It’s certainly not mandatory. I mentioned that to Bill last night and he agreed. Bill has been reading the blog. He says he’s read every post and I believe him. A lot of it is about him. Anyone would read what someone else has written about them. It’s a natural curiosity.

I hoped he wasn’t offended but he realizes that these writings are of the moment. Sometimes heated, sometimes maudlin. Rarely entertaining. (This is where you’re supposed to jump in and say, ‘No johnozed. You are highly entertaining. The five readers that you have are all highly amused. We had no idea you were so smart and funny johnozed’. Or words to that effect.)

I do enjoy this. The writing. Bill is definitely in my corner on this. Regularly asks me how many words did I write. He orchestrated this whole shebang. From inviting me to the Evening of American Satire in October, to his constant encouragement, and the earth shaking sex, he’s going the extra mile.

So thank you Bill for all this. The good and the bad, the thick and the thin. I know I’m not that easy to deal with sometimes, and you have seen some sides to me that hardly anyone else has. And then there’s the sex…