Jamal, who couldn’t pass a second-grade math test, somehow mastered HR’s weakest spots and staged his grand exit last week.

The reason? “Toxic work environment.” Specifically, someone borrowed his precious red Swingline stapler. He shouted, “I can’t work under these savage conditions!” and stormed out mid-shift, leaving me to deal with an elderly dementia patient—somehow unsupervised—screeching about gluten in gluten-free bread.

Today, Jamal strutted back in, lawyer’s letter in hand, claiming “constructive termination.” The document was packed with gems like “hostile atmosphere,” “management negligence,” and “irreparable emotional distress caused by unauthorized removal of personal property.” The pièce de résistance? It named me—grocery manager extraordinaire—as the primary antagonist.

HR, headed by the unshakable Tabitha, solemnly informed me, “Legally, we have to take this seriously, Evan.” No pushback. No defense. Just a slow bureaucratic surrender.

Meanwhile, Jamal spent the day outside, live-streaming from the parking lot about his “six-figure settlement incoming.” Every so often, he’d pan the camera to me, sweating over a pallet of frozen turkeys, while Karen #57 harangued me for “the good cranberry sauce, not this store-brand crap.”

As I clocked out, hands raw from turkey juice, Jamal walked by with his Big Gulp, grinning. “Don’t work too hard, friend. See you in court.”

Filed the day’s reports, stared at the HR memo detailing my hostile grocery reign, and whispered, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630876&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=4295921",#48314857)