There I sat. The job I had diligently worked at for a little under three whole years of my life. I was surrounded by stacks of documents soon to be shredded. Papers lay across my desk in giant piles. In my drawers sat hundreds of files to sort that would never find their right homes. I stared at my blank cubicle walls, devoid of anything but a crappy “Hang in There!” poster. The one with cat stuck on a tree branch. Our department manager felt the need to stick those cat posters wherever to up employee motivation. I hated that damn cat. Fuck that cat.
I dropped the few other meager trinkets I kept around to amuse myself in a small cardboard box. A deck of cards for Solitaire, my calculator that could compute on what day any person was born, (Jesus was born on a Monday) and a small paperweight I had gotten as a Christmas gift. They all were slipped into the box and out of sight. I wouldn’t need them anymore.

I had been fired.