Andy Clifford's commute from his Upper East Side apartment to his cubicle in Newark took a subway transfer, a fully read Wall Street Journal and two cigarettes. He dropped his second smoke as soon as he walked under the shade of the soaring structure that housed the global headquarters of Telecommando Incorporated. Andy accelerated his pace past the giant Telecommando flag, emblazoned with a bright red T, near the front entrance. The atmosphere in the lobby was tense. Even the normally-friendly security guards were quiet and reserved. There was none of their usual hellos and how-are-yous.

He exited the elevator on the fourth floor and threw a piece of gum in his mouth. There was hedgerow upon hedgerow of identical grey cubicles in front of him, and their sight made his headache grow worse. In the small kitchen he closed his eyes and listened to the soothing sounds of the Alka Seltzer bubbles. In the good old days his colleagues would gather around the water cooler and gossip about rumors of the latest acquisition; today, however, there was no one around.

Subdued employees, wearing casual clothes and sneakers, began arriving at their desks, coffee mugs in hand. Andy approached a closed door with the nametag Bruce Doolittle, Director of Marketing. Nearby, a middle-aged secretary raised her eyes.

"My, oh my, who are you dressing up for, Andy?" asked Jackie. She played with the long necklace that held her id badge as she looked Andy over. "You're such eye-candy, honey. Do you have an interview lined up already?"

"No, not really, Jackie."

"Bummer news last night, wasn't it? Twenty-five thousand jobs!"

"We knew it was coming, didn't we? We just didn't know how many."

"Things must be really bad. I also heard that some of our sales guys haven't received their commissions yet," continued the secretary.

"Are we waiting for a better exchange rate on the Euro or something?"

Andy pointed to the closed door in front of him.

"Is he in?"

"Yes, Bruce came in early and he doesn't appear worried at all. Maybe that's good news for you and the rest of the team, but I don't know for sure. The other secretaries are telling me that there will be an all-employee meeting with the big bosses in the auditorium downstairs; some major announcements will be made."

Andy smirked and knocked on Bruce Doolittle's door.

"Hey, Andy," whispered Jackie, "if, for whatever reason, you know, we don't see each other again, good luck, honey!"

Andy wanted to say something, but restrained himself. A wry smile crossed his face as he entered his manager's office.

"Clifford?" uttered a surprised Bruce Doolittle. The marketing director was in his fifties, a telecom lifer that sat in a spacious office that overlooked the parking lot. Bruce took off his reading glasses and scratched his peculiar hairstyle, which stood on his head like an unruly gray mop. "Can you please explain to me why you are wearing a suit on casual Friday?"

"I thought I'd come in dressed for my exit interview."

"Here we go again, Clifford," sighed Bruce, "you and your conspiracy theories. We have a company-wide meeting later in the day, and we won't know more till then, so my advice to you would be to keep working on what you're working on."

"What am I supposed to work on, Bruce? I have no work left to do."

"Remember your last performance evaluation, when you told me that your dream is to become the CEO of this company? I was impressed by your ambition, Clifford, but what I did not like were some of your other ideas, when you said things like only the paranoid survive, the Jack Welch way, and the end of marketing as we know it. Don't blow a few job cuts out of proportion. Just because we lost some money and our stock dropped a bit does not mean that the mobile internet is over with. Consider the big picture."

"I also have to consider that all of my savings, my entire 401K, is fully vested in our company's stock. These layoffs will wipe me out, Bruce. This mobile internet thing is like the battle of the Somme in World War I: there's blood all over the place."

"You're a decent employee, Clifford, why should we part ways with you? Besides, I really liked your work on our last campaign. It was marketing at its best: Telecommando Forever!" Bruce Doolittle was excited and waved his hands about. "Forever is what our corporation is all about. You even designed the letters in red - our company color. Telecommando Forever!"

The desk phone rang, and Bruce glanced at the caller ID.
"I need to answer this in private," said the marketing director. "Keep up the good work, Clifford, and close the door behind you."

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