Richard (don’t call me Dick) MacElwain slammed his desk drawer, and rolled back away from his desk, knocking over his waste basket as he did. Swiveling around on his chair he kicked the offending basket spewing trash across the aisle.
“Richard, you gonna pick that up?” called out a voice.
“That’s what we have janitors for; stupid mexicans aren’t good for anything else.” he answered the voice.
He nudged his chair out of the way with one massive thigh, and picked up his briefcase.
“Have a nice weekend, Richard” said the voice with irony.
Richard waved his middle finger over his shoulder.
The two massive glass doors were no match for Richard as he slammed them back against their stops. Ten paces farther he was stopped by the security guard at the outer gate.
“Would you open your briefcase sir” the guard said.
“You pimply faced punks think you’re something. I make more money in an hour than you do all night.”
“Would you open it, please?” asked the guard.