It was 1989, the height of the savings and loan crisis. Olga loved her job at the bank, but still slid a resignation memo across my desk. No job lined up—just worry in her eyes. “Too much uncertainty,” she said. I was a freshly minted branch manager; she was my skilled, trusted assistant. I couldn’t afford to lose her. I looked at her memo, paused, then scribbled “Rejected,” signed and dated it, and handed it back. Her mouth dropped open. “Can you do that?” she asked. “Of course,” I replied, lying through my teeth. Her face lit up with relief.
Dart Humeston is a coffee-addicted writer who lives in a quiet town in Florida with his wife and four cats. The cats are single.