They Call Me Mister Carver

One of my underlings poked his head into my office this afternoon. It was my first full day back at work after dealing with a nasty head cold, and I was in no mood for pleasantries.

"Nelson! What in the name of Sam Hill are you doing here? Don't you have work to do?!"

"Er, sorry Mr. Carver," he mewled. "Ah, I was just wondering..."

"Yes? Spit it out, man!"

"...if you'd seen Jeffers? He's in charge of..."

"Spit it out!"

"...the Shankawicz presentation, and..."

"Goddammit! I am the head of this goddamn department, which means I'm a very busy man! More importantly, I'm a very important man, and certainly don't have time to keep track of all the slackjawed halfwits who work for me! Do I make myself clear... Supervisor Nelson?!?"

"Er, yes sir -- wait. Did you just demote me?"

"Of course I did," I said, waving him off as I returned to the nudie mag I'd been perusing before his rude interruption. "You're reduced two steps in rank. Return to post."

I couldn't help but smile as Nelson schlumped off. Little did he know I had Jeffers arrested last night for stealing office supplies. At his home, so as to avoid a potentially morale-killing situation. You have to think of these things when you're the boss.