ABSTRACT
Mike Corey walked into his office, fifteen minutes behind schedule. Through the glass partition Mike caught a glimpse of his boss. Arthur Blick looked up briefly as Mike slid into his chair. A number of signs obscured the full view: “Tomorrow We Finally Have to Get Organized,” “THIMK,” “Wait Till Next Time—You Have Done Enough Damage for Now.” Mike tried to look inconspicuous, though his mind was working rapidly. He was late for the third straight day. Oh, there were good reasons all right… one day his wife needed to be driven downtown and she wasn't ready—one day he had a terrible headache… and then… today. … His thoughts shifted abruptly—it really didn't matter as long as Blick was in a good mood. Mike had some very definite ideas about what kind of guy his boss was. Usually he wasn't a bad sort; businesslike, but human too. If you had a big problem, he probably would listen. Still he was so darn changeable, and you had to hit him “just right” if you wanted to get along. This morning Blick seemed preoccupied … he looked up as if he hardly saw you, yet the way he spun back to his desk telegraphed “bad news.”
