Bradley knew he was indispensable, but did they? Probably not. So a vow was made – if the company ever fired him, he’d go out in style.
The axe fell on a Tuesday. And Bradley was prepared.
He pulled the necessary tools from his bottom desk drawer: seven cans of tuna, seven paper plates, a can opener. Then he made the rounds: three floors, two microwaves per. Can’t forget the one behind reception either.
Twenty minutes was perfect timing. When the smell finally hit, he was already out on the street, a free man.
It was the least he could do.
The Weekday One Hundred 