Saturday, July 21, 2007

 
The Delta Function: Scene 2.
Executive Office. Night.

Cut to an office interior. An anxious, sweaty, balding man is sitting at a large mahogany desk, papers strewn in front of him. His face is lit eerily by a desk lamp: there is not much other light in the room. He addresses an unseen person.

BOSS
(with an air of desperation) How come you never told me you were having personal problems? We could have worked something out.

FIRED GUY
(from out of shot, barely controlled fury) Yeah, I guess we could. Maybe when you got your head outta your ass and started treating your employees like human beings.

BOSS
(puzzled) Human beings...? This company pays the best in the industry!

FIRED GUY
Yeah, and you expect quite a return on your investment, don't you? I've been working sixteen-hour days for you, and have you even noticed?

BOSS
We never expect our staff to work unreasonable hours.

FIRED GUY
That's what it says on paper. But if I hadn't got the Hirschfeld account in, you'd have fired me anyway.

As the BOSS is speaking, the camera swings slowly around to show the FIRED GUY leaning against the wall. He's in shirtsleeves; the bomb looks like a backpack. He looks bone-weary, tightly-strung, as though the tiniest thing will make him snap.

BOSS
(attempting to be placatory) Jeffrey, you know how much you mean to this company. It's just that... well... lately you've been sloppy. Not meeting deadlines, making mistakes in your accounts -

FIRED GUY
(suddenly psychotic, gesturing towards the trigger of the bomb strapped to his body) You'll be pretty fuckin' sloppy if you don't give me back my job!

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