v. 1.6

Ten minutes later, Dan sat in his office. The door was closed, and Donna had been told to leave it that way. The telephone had already rung four times. There were twenty-eight new emails, which Dan ignored, along with a seemingly endless run of instant messages and tweets. He turned his back on the screen.

He heard Tony D. long before he saw him. He was surprised how quickly his VP of Sales had heard the news and driven in from the golf course. Maybe he’d heard it on the radio on the way. Well, Dan thought, better sooner than later. He composed himself.

“Donna, I don’t give a fuck!” he heard Tony D. shout. “I’m going in there.”

The door flung open. Tony D. burst in, still in his knit shirt and green slacks, his face red and twisted with anger. He didn’t even pause to close the door behind him. He obviously didn’t care who heard what he was going to say.

“Tony…”

“Fuck you, Dan. Just fuck you, you backstabbing son of a bitch.” Tony jabbed a finger towards Dan’s face. “Twelve years, you ratfucker. Twelve fucking years of loyalty to you, and this is what I get. Fuck you. FUCK YOU. I made this company. I made you. And you fire my whole fucking team? You fire me?” He slammed his hand on Dan’s desk. One of the Cross pens bounced out of its stand.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Fuck you, Dan. You lying piece of shit. You know what pisses me off most? You fucking planned this. It’d be chicken shit enough if you were some good Nazi following Validator’s orders. But you fucking planned this with him. How long ago, Dan? How long?” Tony D.’s voice was vibrating with anger. “You shook my hand yesterday. You let me go out on stage and make promises to my people you knew I couldn’t keep.” Tony D.’s eyes suddenly lost their fire. “You hung me out to dry, Dan. Why would you do that to me?”

Dan rested his hands on his desk, palms up. “I didn’t have any choice, Tony.”

Tony D. stared at him, shaking his head slowly. “The fuck you didn’t, Dan. You are the Chief Executive Officer of this company.”

Dan’s hands became fists. But he composed himself. “Yes, I am. And part of that job is making difficult decisions.”

“Yeah,” Tony snarled again. “I’m sure it’s especially difficult to make decisions about the future of the sales force without once consulting your vice president of sales.”

Dan didn’t reply.

“So that’s it, eh?” Tony slapped his hands on the desk, and pulled himself to his feet. “You know it won’t work, don’t you?”

“What won’t?”

“Your new plan. Even if you manage to put a net services program in place—and nobody’s pulled it off yet—it’ll take you at least two years. And you’re going to lay off your sales force now? Are you fucking crazy? What are you going to do for that year in between? Go door-to-door and sell the shit yourself?” Tony D. planted his hands and leaned over the desk until his face was just inches from Dan’s.

“You’re going to fail, Danny Boy, and everything you’ve accomplished with this company—not to mention your oh-so-perfect reputation—is going to come crashing down on your head. And you know what, asshole? I’m going to be standing there, watching it happen, and laughing my fucking head off.”