The boss’s wife looked grimly triumphant, the boss’s face looked ashen. He sometimes forgot to shave. The people in the office said literally nothing.
One day the boss’s chair was empty though he’d asked George to come in for a meeting (a meeting which George was sure would end with his dismissal), and when George finally got tired
of waiting and stood to go, he glimpsed a note taped to the boss’s computer. “I’m quitting,” it said. “Good luck.”
Good luck? Susan had placed a frantic call to the wife. Was the boss sick? The wife didn’t know. She thought he’d gone to work.
Calls were placed to the police. The wife was now sorry, very sorry, that she had spent so much time harassing the poor man. He had obviously been going through a mid-life crisis. “And
there’s no hotline for that,” she
