[ WP ] At your company , failure is not an option — literally . Those who fail ( or quit ) are killed soon afterwards .

Performance reviews are today. 
 
 The office is dead quiet. The only sounds are hurried, muted and desperate conversations over the phones, the rapid clicking of the keys on the keyboards, and the occasional chair rolling around. 
 
 I took off my glasses and wipe the condensation from my lenses with my handkerchief. I put my glasses on my head as they slid through my sweaty hair, which was matted down around my ear like a canal for the glasses to easily slide through. I sat there before a blank computer screen, a blinking phone because I have a voicemail and my handkerchief balled up in my loosely formed fist. I sat there staring at it. My mother had given it to me when I was a kid. She was tired of hearing my sniffle and tired of watching me wipe my nose with the cuffs on my sleeves. `` Never let me see you wipe your nose like that again, Thomas, do you understand me?'' Times were simpler then. Less stressful. 
 
 My phone rang I dropped my handkerchief on top of my keyboard. The digital screen on the phone shows that it's from the guy two cubicles over. I made the mistake of talking to him about how much of a drag the corporate retreat was going to be, and he mistook that for an attempted friendship. I sighed and answered the phone: 
 
 `` Thomas Lathem, how may I help you.'' 
 
 `` Tom. Tommy, it's me, Gerry. You have your review yet?'' 
 
 `` No. Ger-'' 
 
 `` Yeah me neither. Listen, I heard about Winston. He did n't do so hot. I think they're shipping - `` 
 
 `` Gerry, I've got to go. I've got another call,'' I lied. 
 
 `` Right. OK, man. Good luck to you.'' 
 
 I hung up the phone, ignoring the blinking light on receiver. I looked at my hand, which was completely empty except for a thin white line over otherwise tanned flesh. It had only been a few weeks since it became final. No more pictures occupied my desk, no more lunches were packed for me and the queen sized bed seemed a bit excessive. Times were simpler then. Less stress. 
 
 I'd have quit this job months ago to be with her, but I could n't. Not because of the pay or the location was too good to walk away from, but because the policy on quitting is pretty Draconian. The company's motto was, *The way air travel should be*, but the unofficial slogan was, *You're with us, til death do you part*. She had to move to Orlando because of a better job and she wanted to be with her family, but there is n't an office in Orlando. There is n't even an office in Florida. I guess our airline does n't see the need for business in Florida. 
 
 My phone rang again. I was about to pick it up and tell Gerry to stop bothering me, but I saw that it was my boss, Sandy Patton. I scramble for the phone. 
 
 `` Yes ma'am?'' 
 
 `` Hi Thomas. Your review is up, could you come to my office, please?'' 
 
 `` Sure, I'm on my way.'' 
 
 I hear her *Thank you! * as I bring the handset back down to the receiver and hang it up. Walking through the rows of cubicles, seeing my coworkers ignore their ringing phones and the sounds of brand new emails popping up to watch me all the way to Ms. Patton's office made me think that this was what people being escorted to the gallows must have felt like. 
 
 I knocked on the door and through the long and narrow rectangular window decorated with diamond-shaped wiring in between the two panes, I heard, `` Come in.'' 
 
 I walked in slowly with a forced smile on my face. I checked beneath my feet and felt the smooth, almost slippery, texture of the wooden floor. I walked to the only empty chair in the room, asked to sit down, and once given permission, I sat with my hands folded in my lap. 
 
 `` OK, Thomas. How are you?'' 
 
 `` It depends how this goes, really.'' 
 
 She smiled and said, `` Does n't it?'' 
 
 `` Your performance has dipped the past quarter. Care to explain?'' 
 
 `` I can actually. At the time this quarter started, I had been having arguments with my wife - *then* wife - about moving. She needed to move to Florida, but I could n't make the move with her. We ended up getting a divorce and my head was just... well, scrambled to say the least. I could feel sales slipping away because I had my mind elsewhere, but I did just break new ground - `` 
 
 `` Yes, I saw that, dear, thank you. Ehm'' - she put on her reading glasses over her glossy, green eyes, which were sunken into her wrinkled and splotchy skin - `` could you also tell me how you lost the Fisher account?'' 
 
 I shifted my weight in my seat and felt my hands starting to clam. `` I, uh, well'' - nervously laughed - `` I -'' 
 
 `` Something funny?'' 
 
 `` Excuse me?'' 
 
 `` I do n't believe I will. Is there something. funny,'' she scolded. 
 
 `` No. No ma'am. Not at all.'' 
 
 `` OK let's just get right to the point, shall we? We're not going to terminate you.'' 
 
 A sigh of relief fought off with every fiber of my being. 
 
 `` But,'' she continued, `` you will be placed on a probationary status. I do n't want you attempting any sales by yourself anymore. You'll be placed with Shelby Walters and she will report to me about any improvements. You'll have another review in another month.'' 
 
 `` Thank you, ma'am.'' 
 
 `` Do try to get your act together, Thomas.'' 
 
 `` I will. With all my heart,'' I smiled. 
 
 As I shut the door, I saw Gerry stand up from his cubicle. I stood by her office for a moment to get my breath, but as he started approaching, I heard the sound of wrinkled paper behind the door.
