One fateful Monday, Vivek, the razor-sharp Gorgeous Director of Efficiency, summoned Disco Fries to his minimalist corner office.

“David, sit,” Vivek said, gesturing to a chair that creaked ominously under Frye’s weight.

“Look, Vivek,” Frye began, his tone heavy with existential angst, “if you’re about to discuss my hours, you must understand the metaphysical weight of legal thought—”

“David,” Vivek interrupted, “your last memo took 40 billable hours, and all it said was, ‘Maybe don’t merge.’”

“Strategic ambiguity,” Frye retorted. “Clients love nuance!”

“Nuance doesn’t justify your $2,000 lunch receipts or the seven drafts of a non-compete that somehow referenced French existentialism,” Vivek countered.

“But Vivek, life is absurd, and contracts should reflect that,” Frye protested.

“David, you’re not Camus. You’re canned,” Vivek said, rising. “Clean out your office by lunch—or sooner, if you plan to order disco fries again. HR doesn’t cover cardiac arrests.”

Disco Fries waddled out, muttering something about Sisyphus and ketchup. The firm was lighter by one brooding attorney—and 6,000 weekly calories.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5637191&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310905",#48359122)