The boss man came to me. He closed the door behind him and laid a pistol on the table then he looked me square in the eye. “I have ass cancer,” he said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him. “Is it hopefully terminal?”

“It is,” he said. “I have six months. Maybe a year. I’ve dedicated my life to this company. You know, it’s funny. As children we have larger than life dreams; that growing up means making a difference by doing the things we love. What they don’t tell you is that once when mediocrity burrows in like a festering parasite, life becomes an endless stream of meaningless toil and futility. No matter how well you think you have it, there’s a deep void within you which whispers to you each night and tells you that you have wasted the best years of your life by becoming a cog in a soulless machine. You can spend the hours burying that voice but you know it speaks the truth. And you go on ignoring it until it metastasizes into an incurable disease. The good news for me is that I don’t have long. I will soon join the legions of the dead and forgotten. But as for you, I must pass my burden onto your shoulders.”

“What do you mean sir?”

“You are being promoted from serviceable to merely competent. The Company has deemed that you take the reins of this operation once when you’ve achieved the applicable credentials, namely a college degree. I suppose a congratulations is in order but I wouldn’t wish this job on my worst enemy.”

“But I already have a degree.”

“Your diploma in Italian porno studies at Brownhole University is not, to quote my superiors, ‘worth wiping your ass with’. I’m afraid you’ll have to get a proper one at a proper school.”

The boss man then holstered the pistol and gave me one last piece of advice. “It is life that gives meaning to death,” he said. “And if you want a meaningful death then you should resign from this job and follow your passions. If not, then classes in business management begin at Western Governor’s University on August 28th. Apply today and receive a 5% discount on fall tuition.”

Then he straightened out his shirt and opened the door. But before he departed this earth, he turned around and tapped on his pistol and winked. “You know what to do,” he said.

“Yes sir, I do.”

Western Governor’s University

Changing lives for the better