A Meeting in New York, Part 1

Dear Diary,

Five days ago, my wife and I checked into the Plaza Hotel in New York City. It is one of the most expensive hotels in the country. I can't afford it since I lost my job as a photocopy guy over a month ago and have kept this a secret from my wife ever since. I lied to her that I was promoted to a senior management position at the accounting firm which actually fired me. I have been telling her all kinds of stories to keep her believing that I still have a job. She is now pregnant and without employment (both done at my suggestion) and would kill me if she ever found out I was unemployed, especially since I just pledged a donation for the construction of a new hospital for sick children during a surprise appearance on the TV talk show The View.

As I returned to our hotel room last Thursday afternoon, my wife confronted me.

MY WIFE: How are we going to afford that pledge?

ME: Listen, with this promotion, I have more room to breathe now. I'm not as restricted financially.

MY WIFE: You just pledged over six hundred million dollars!

ME: Is that how much I said? Oh God, that's hilarious. Look at you getting all upset. You're so cute. Six hundred million dollars is honey-roasted peanuts to someone like me now. And besides, head office told me to do it. They're footing the bill.

MY WIFE: What?

I could tell she was about to suspect that I really lost my job. I panicked.

ME: Head office is having a national meeting this weekend. Right here in NYC. Why don't you come? They'd love to have you.

This was completely true, except for the part of them loving to have her, or me for that matter, since I was fired in a scenario some might call hostile, or shortsighted, or even stupid, on my part.

The next day, I wore my brand new Savile Row suit, and my wife slipped into a Christian Dior gown and Tahitian pearls, both of which I purchased at the hotel boutique (charged to our room of course). I then called up a limousine to take us to the meeting in high style.

After we walked through the giant glass doors of the firm's high rise, I approached the front desk and told them I was here for the big meeting. Fortunately, my name was still in their database and we were led to the top floor where all the VPs, board members, and regional managers were seated at one commanding, oval table. There was only one seat left empty, and it was at the head of the table.

ME: Honey, why don't you sit. I'll just stand.

MY WIFE: I feel a bit overdressed.

ME: We're fancy people now. And we're classy.

SOME VP: Excuse me Miss, you can't sit there. That's our CEO's chair and he's late.

ME: She wasn't talking to you, so shut your swamp hole.

SHEILA: What are you doing here?

I turned, and saw Sheila seated at the table. Sheila is the manager of the branch where I used to work as the photocopy guy.

ME: I'm a VP now, Sheila. I've come a long way. You can't buy class like this. You're born with it. So get in line.

SOME ELDERLY, DISTINGUISHED LADY: What's your name? I've never seen you here before?

ME: Well I've never seen you. I'm too busy being a big honcho around here to notice a loser like you.

DISTINGUISHED LADY: I'm Lady Diamont. My father founded this firm.

ME: Glad to see nepotism is alive and well is this joint. I'll have to do something about that. In the meantime, why don't you pack up your desk and get out of my face, stinky.

LADY DIAMONT: Someone call security.

ME: Yes, someone do that. As I look around the table right now, I can see that there's some other deadwood besides yourself that needs tossing out.

I placed one of my buttocks beside my wife's on the chair.

ME: Honey, scooch over. I need to make a speech.

SHEILA: Here we go...

I had to make it look like I was really professional now so that my wife would buy that I had developed into a smart and shrewd businessman.

ME: Everyone, you are all being fired today. You will never work in this city again. Or country. I would like to take this opportunity to further advise to you to purchase tickets for yourselves and your loved ones for the next space shuttle, because you will never get another job on this planet ever again. I will personally see to that. You have my word.

I turned to my wife and smiled. I was so proud of myself.

Just then six unformed security guards burst through the doors.

ME: Security, finally.

I gestured toward everyone at the table.

ME: Take out this garbage.

LADY DIAMONT: That man is an impostor. Restrain him.

The guards rushed toward me.

I grabbed my wife's hand.

ME: Hostile take-over! Run!

I picked up our chair and launched it at the window.

ME: To the window ledge!

The chair just bounced off the thick glass.

And my wife and I were apprehended.

I looked up into my wife's confused face.

ME: I need to tell you something.

MY WIFE: What?

ME: Promise me you won't be mad first.

MY WIFE: Then don't tell me.

ME: I got fired from my job.

MY WIFE: What? When? This week?

ME: Over a month ago.

MY WIFE: As the photocopy guy?

ME: I know, I so loved that job too.