T.M. Shine, once a columnist at the Tribune-owned City Link magazine in Florida before layoffs swept him out, writes about the travails of unemployment, and the indulgence of HBO:
The HR woman hands me the last form to initial, smiles politely, and that is that. I briskly grab the folder as if it's an annoying car-detailing flier left under my windshield wiper at a strip mall and head toward the door. The boss lays a not-so-subtle maneuver on me in case I want to try and pull off a wave, but he's oblivious to the fact that there is no one left to wave goodbye to. When I reach the foyer, I hear an urgent, "Hey, Terry!"
Okay, I get it. Here it comes. The boss was only waiting to get out of earshot of HR to show his true appreciation. Here it comes, here it comes . . . "What's your code?"