17 MUSH
Much like every other manager I’d encountered in my expansive working career, Manhattan didn’t do his own dirty work. Nope, not a finger lifted or a single damn given. Instead, he summoned poor Henry to escort me to the Room of Torture while he likely sipped herbal tea and arranged a meeting to plan another meeting with the rest of his sanctimonious management team. Actually, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d already gone home to avoid the traffic and catch up on his PVR recordings.
Henry sighed. “You again?”
“Yip,” I replied, avoiding eye contact with the old security guard.
Henry’s face creased. “You got me into a lot of trouble yesterday. A whole world of it.”
“I’m sorry.” I really was. Having worked with a variety of people, I’d found the older folk to be more honest
