He leaned back in his chair, smirked, and said, ‘We don’t need incompetent people like you. Leave.’ I smiled the way people do when they already know the ending and said, ‘Fine. Fire me.’ He thought my badge was the only reason I belonged in that building. He had no clue the next shareholder meeting was going to teach him a very expensive lesson in math.

My boss fired me on a Tuesday at 4:47 in the afternoon, and the room went quiet in that special corporate way where everyone pretends a human being is actually a scheduling issue.

Derek Vaughn leaned back in the conference-room chair as if posture alone could manufacture authority.

He had his jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened half an inch, and the smug patience of a man who believed he was delivering a lesson instead of exposing himself.

Two department managers sat along the wall.

The HR representative kept her eyes fixed on a folder in front of her.

‘We don’t need incompetent people like you,’ Derek said.