2003-09-08 11:12 p.m.

My boss let me keep the name plaque that used to hang outside my office as a sort of memento, a permanent reminder that I got fired from a strange place where I never quite fit in anyway, a place where I wanted to relate to the people around me but never quite figured out how to.

My boss was a good guy, or at least as much as I knew of him was good. I wasn't sure what I would do with the name plate, though. But, it really was a kind gesture of him to let me keep it, especially since I'm sure that accordingly to corporate policy I technically shouldn't have been allowed to keep anything, including my thoughts, memories of my work days triggered by stray photons reflected from the empty shelves in what was once my office, molecules of corporate air in my lungs, fat generated from food eaten in the cafeteria, or subatomic particles of dignity.

I put the name plate on my car, took a picture, and then threw the white cardboard plaque in my trunk, where it will probably spend the rest of its life on earth.


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