Patriot act

A chilling tap on the shoulder from my boss this morning, signaling to follow him into his office. All my colleagues turn to look at me doing my dead man walking thing, trying to appear as nonchalant as you can when you are about to be fired.

‘We have evidence you circumvented the company firewalls to access inappropriate websites yesterday,’ he says in a very prosecutorial tone.

‘Eh, what can I say?’ I respond, wondering whether to lie or come clean and cop a plea.

‘It’s all here in this document our tech guy has printed up, showing you spent two hours logged into some Russian site that streams illegal feeds,’ he continues, handing me the sheet.

I read the overwhelming evidence against me and nod my head, glad now I didn’t try to lie my way out of this one.

‘Have you anything to say in your defense?’ he asks.

‘Yes, I do,’ I say, standing up and walking around his office, doing that whole TV lawyer thing for effect. ‘ESPN3 went down yesterday morning and I had to go to the site listed to watch the USA women take on North Korea in their opening game of the World Cup.’

‘And that’s it?’

‘Yeah, that’s the long and the short of it.’

‘But you know the rules are that anybody visiting unapproved sites during work hours can be fired.’

‘That was a chance I had to take,’ I say, now standing before his desk, gripping the back of my chair as I go for broke. ‘And if you want to fire me for being a proud American, for wanting to see the daughters of Communism put in their place by wholesome girls with ponytails from all corners of this great, great nation, that’s fine. I can’t think of a better reason to lose my job than for supporting my country. However, let me warn you, as soon as I leave this office, I will be all over the cable news channels, telling my story, the compelling tale of how one man’s love for the national soccer team cost him his job. You want that kind of publicity in this economy? You got it? I should be on Fox News by lunchtime!’

I take only two steps towards the door when he caves.

‘Okay, okay,’ he says, not sounding so confident anymore. ‘I think we can, eh, overlook it this time.’

I stroll back to my cubicle, shoulders back, triumphant.