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     His eyes turn back up to you with a sparkle in them that wasn't there before.  Realizing his vulnerability, he straightens himself up and regains his previous demeanor of an arrogant heartless son-of-a-bitch.  You are grateful for the transformation.  


"Anyway, the reason I asked you here today is to talk to you about your future here at this office.  There have been some instances brought to my attention recently that I feel important to address."  He states in a scary and commanding voice.  


     You sit up a little straighter, trying to look more professional, shifting uncomfortably in your seat and feeling your face fill with warmth.  Ironically, the sun passes behind a cloud outside and the office takes on a darker and more ominous atmosphere.  The fichus in the corner even seems to droop a little bit, as if cowering in the corner.  


    He pulls a pair of metal framed spectacles from the desk drawer and places them on the bridge of his nose, adjusting them slightly with one finger.  He reaches across the desk and pulls a manilla file from the top of the stack on his desk.  You clasp and unclasp your fingers nervously.  He pages through several pages in the folder and you begin to wring your hands, looking like you just stepped off a dogsled in the iditarod and you are fighting off the effects of frostbite.  


"I've been reviewing your work for the last few months...." He pages through a few more documents, not spending any amount of time on any particular one.  "Your work is quite thorough.  I see here that you haven't missed a deadline on any projects assigned to you."


You puff up a little, injecting a little hot air back into your deflated psyche.  


"However..."  The word pops your newly inflated self like a bully with a pin at a birthday party.  

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