"I'm mad as hell, and I'm..."
"Not going to take it anymore...yes, of course," I said drolly. This was becoming tiresome.
"But I really am. I'm ready."
"I'm sure you are," I said, and began packing up the assorted papers and file folders I'd spread across John's desk. The piles of papers and folders and magazines already heaped thereon made it hard to tell which papers were mine and which were his.
"That's mine," John said.
"Yes, yes, of course. I really have to go now. I have a meeting ..."
"I told you I'm ready to do something. What are we going to do?"
"What would you like to do," I said, sighing and sitting back down, briefcase closed upon my lap.
"Something. I'm going to quit. And tell the media. I've had enough of the lies, the deception, the sheer callousness..."
"Yes, well... I have to advise against that. You'd only find yourself alone. Ostracized. Jobless. Is that what you want?"
"Yes! I mean...no, not really," John looked sad, and conflicted, and I realized that he had told the truth the first time -- like Garbo, he wanted to be alone... but he wanted it to happen to him...not to happen because of his own actions.
"There are always consequences," I said. "Every action is a decision, especially when you can predict the outcome. What will you decide to do today?"
"I don't know yet. I have a lot of work to do."
"Don't we all..."
#
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