“Jimmy! What are you doing here?”
“Running late. Will you clock me in?”
“If you worked here, sure. But I seem to remember Marvin firing you. Is this some sort of joke?”
Jimmy stared in surprise. “What? Fired!? When did this happen?”
“Last month. What’s going on, man? You know you’re not supposed to be here.” I was looking for some assurance now, because the guy really seemed to be stunned. Had I imagined the whole thing? I distinctly remembered Marvin confronting Jimmy, it seemed like ages ago. It was the day Marvin wore the canary yellow tie that almost got him fired.
“Good morning.” Speak of the devil.
“Hey Marvin.” Awful tie, again? In his hand, a pink slip. Headed toward Jimmy’s cubicle. Déjà vu. I listened in.
“Jimmy, that’s the fourth time you’ve been late this month. The company can’t keep paying for this! Finish what you’re doing and clean out your desk.”
Minutes later, Jimmy stormed out, glaring at me. In his haste he didn’t notice that he dropped something near my desk. A lottery ticket.