Rick had always liked Union Station – it felt like only yesterday thousands of guys in green wool uniforms had passed through on their way to the battlefields of Europe or beach landings on desolate Pacific islands. Walking in through the big wooden swinging doors, he looked up at the vaulted ceiling. Once painted white it was now dingy with smoke and dust. On a balcony that ran around the sides were statues of Roman warriors in robes and togas holding shields in front of them. Rick smiled, remembering that Sam had told him that at least one or two were “anatomically correct” behind their shields.
The main hall had an echoing marble floor and dark wooden benches that appeared as if designed for passenger discomfort when steam engines still smoked and whistled out in the rail yard. Rick waved at the two cops who stood on the side, amiably observing the passing crowds. The fatter one smiled back and touched the brim of his cap in mock salute.
The key to surviving being fired is realizing that it could happen.
Trust me, it could happen. Most of the things you should do to prepare are things you should do anyway
First off, I am so “Not In” that it’s almost impossible to describe. I mean, you could describe picking cotton with the same headline. Boot camp. Working for Bloomberg. Any sort of horrible gig.