Chapter 4: Burned Bridges

I stood outside the company, holding a box, waiting for the car.

Three years of hard work, and all I had left was this box of odds and ends.

It was the classic cardboard box cliché: a bobblehead, two dead potted succulents, my old programming textbooks, and a mug that read “World’s Okayest Coder.”

I stared at my mug—World’s Okayest Coder—and wondered if that was all I’d ever be.

Derek had just finished a meeting and strutted out, beaming as he saw off some business partners.

He spotted me and clicked his tongue:

“Can’t work, but you sure pack fast.”

I was no longer a Vivid employee, and he wasn’t my boss anymore.

But Derek clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Let me introduce you—Mr. Walker, Mr. Evans, this is one of our tech department staff.”

“A few years ago, we lowered our hiring standards to expand. After our system upgrade slashed personnel costs, we optimized out the slackers.”

“You two are interested in the new system, right? Let’s keep talking about partnership.”

The two bosses were as hefty as Derek. Standing together, they looked like three oil barrels.

The sun caught the sweat on their brows, and their laughter boomed over the sound of construction in the distance. For a moment, they looked like minor villains in a midwestern sitcom.

Derek leaned in and sneered:

“Hey, Alex, I heard you just bought a place downtown—those mortgage payments must be tough.”

“I’m a soft-hearted guy. How about this: you carry the bags for these two bosses and do 500 push-ups right here.”

“If you can finish, I’ll talk to HR about keeping you on. How’s that sound?”

I reached out and gave Derek’s belly a loud slap.

“I think you’re the one who needs to do push-ups.”

The two bosses burst out laughing.

Derek’s fat face flushed red, just about to explode—when a jet-black Tesla rolled up and stopped in front of us.

The Tesla’s AC hit me with a blast of cool air, a world away from the sweat and humiliation outside. The chrome logo gleamed. The door opened, and a sharp-looking guy in a white suit sat behind the wheel.

Three years apart, and this kid was even better looking.

Parker stuck his head out, slid his sunglasses onto his head, and eagerly opened the back door for me:

“Alex the Genius, your chariot awaits.”

I got in, box and all.

Parker must have seen what just happened. He said with a smirk:

“Gentlemen, please get back to work. Us idle types are already off the clock.”

With that, he shut the door, and the Tesla sped away.

As we peeled out of the parking lot, I watched Derek in the rearview mirror, sputtering with rage. For the first time all day, I actually laughed.