Beg Me-Sold to My Dad's Boss

And Jim looked about ready to burst into tears then, his chin quivering, eyes growing moist and bright.

“No, you pay me great!” he protested with a hiccup to his voice. “Thank you Mr. Jones, thank you for hiring me, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful, it’s just that … that …” he mumbled.

I sat silently, expectantly. What could possibly justify stealing from your employer? Shit, I should turn this guy into the feds, this was criminal behavior.

But the tears began to spill then.

“I’m so sorry,” blubbered Jim, his nose running with trails of slime, his chin drooping with sorrow, “but my daughter’s college tuition is so expensive I needed some extra to get us through this next year, I’ll pay it back, I swear.”

I steepled my hands thoughtfully, shaking my head. Jim was disgusting, that was no justification for his actions, there was always the option of student loans, parent loans, or fuck, he could have just come to me for a personal loan. But I got it. A lot of people lied to themselves, telling themselves that they’d just “borrow” some money, they’d take it without anyone noticing, the money would be put back before anyone even realized it was gone. But that’s a bunch of jack shit. That money doesn’t ever come back, it’s gone, flown off to its next destination and the unfortunate part in this case, was that I was his boss and I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy out there.

“You’re fired,” I said abruptly. “HR will have your paperwork.”

The blonde man blubbered again, dropping to his knees before my desk and clasping his hands.

“Please Mr. Jones, no,” he begged. “I didn’t take that much, please don’t, my family needs the money, we have a mortgage, my daughter’s in college, please.”

I shook my head, turning away.

“Business is business,” I said ruthlessly. “Get out.”

But Jim was tenacious, I’ll give him that. Instead of getting to his feet and leaving my office, head down and defeated, he anted up and doubled down.

“Please!” he screamed, throwing himself at my feet. Okay, now this was getting a little dramatic, like out of a movie. Was I going to have to get security to escort him out? “I’ll give you anything you want. Just another month on the job so that I can find a new one. Please!” he wailed.

And I paused for a moment. In general, I like to cut a cancer out at its source, discard it before it festers and grows into a huge sore. But in this case, Jim had a point. I didn’t have a new controller lined up and it would take time to interview candidates and conduct a thorough search. So if I kept him on for another month, it would help with the transition, help us keep the books up until someone new stepped in. But I’d have to keep an eye on the fucker. Fuck. That fucking sucked. I was here to bring in business for United Electric, it was my job as the boss to drum up new jobs for us, to wine and dine clients so that we landed multi-million dollar contracts. So to spend my nights as a part-time accountant fucking sucked, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But against my better judgment, I agreed.

“Fine,” I said roughly. “One more month and then you’re out.”

And the man bobbed his head up and down thanking me.

“Thank you, thank you Mr. Jones,” he blabbered, eyes welling with tears of relief. “Thank you, this will give me just enough time to find a new job, and I will pay you back, I will,” he promised.

I just turned away, disgusted, shaking my head.

But the pathetic dude had the temerity to keep going.

“Is there one more thing I can ask of you?” he begged, still on his knees.

My head snapped to his, eyes blazing. What the fuck, this guy had just admitted to stealing my money, taking my shit, caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and now he wanted something more from me? Fuck, some people are unbelievable.

But before I could throw him out of my office, the guy’s face crumpled again.

“Please come to my twentieth anniversary party this weekend,” he mumbled, “It’s Linda’s and my anniversary, and I don’t want her to suspect anything. I want my wife to be happy and you know she’s been sick lately, she’s been looking forward to this party for so long. Please come so that she doesn’t think something’s wrong.”

And to my own disbelief, I agreed. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was going soft between this talk of sick wives and family events. But the damage was done.

“Fine,” I ground out, “I’ll be there.”

And with that, Jim shuffled out the door, bowing and scraping, his blonde head bobbing, the wisps of white hair comical as they waved back and forth.