JV: Stuart, Ms. Mackenzie has already been deposed. I’m not interested in—

SH: Yes, but you asked that she be brought here today, to help clear some things up—your words, no?

JV: Yes, but—

SH: Well, that’s all I’m trying to do. Help clear things up. Now. Ms. Mackenzie, you’ve been with the paper for a little less than a year, correct?

MH: Stuart, this is my case, I believe, not yours.

KM: Um. Yes?

SH: Right. And I believe you were hired on the strong recommendation of your friend, Ms. Jennifer Sadler. Is that correct?

KM: Jen told me about the opening in her office, yes, and I applied. . . .

MH: I believe your exact words, Stuart, were that you were too personally involved in the case to want to get involved. . . .

SH: And so you were hired, is that correct, Ms. Mackenzie? And you and Jen, as you call her . . . Would you say she is your best friend?

MH: Stuart, where the hell are you going with this?

SH: Excuse me. I ask only to be extended the same courtesy I extended to you, Mitchell. Were you not, Ms. Mackenzie, living with Ms. Sadler until recently?

KM: Well, I . . . I mean, I’ve been having some trouble finding a place, and so I was staying at Jen’s until I could find somewhere I could afford on my own. . . .

SH: And do you and Ms. Sadler—whom I believe you met in college—sometimes gossip in the workplace?

MH: Stuart. Really. What does this—

SH: Oh, that will become apparent. Don’t you two like to pass notes, and Instant Message each other, and e-mail back and forth between your computers on an almost constant basis, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Well, Jen and I . . . I mean, we maintain a close working relationship, and she helps me with many work-related projects—

SH: Work-related. Is your commenting on the apparel of your supervisor, Ms. Jenkins, work related?

KM: Well, apparently her commenting on mine is—so, yes.

MH: Touché.

SH: What about referring to Ms. Jenkins as . . . What is it again? Oh, yes. The T.O.D. Is that work related?

KM: How did you—

MH: Stuart. Cut it out.

JV: I agree with Mitch. What does any of this have to do with the fact that your client—or at least someone in her office—forged my client’s initials on a document she never even saw?

SH: I’m getting to that. What does T.O.D. mean, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Um. It means . . . It means Tough On Doubters. Because Amy’s always very tough on people who doubt . . . her ability.

SH: Tough on Doubters.

KM: Uh-huh.

SH: You realize you’re supposed to be telling the truth here, don’t you, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: (inaudible)

SH: What was that, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Nothing.

SH: Isn’t it true that you and Ms. Sadler dislike Ms. Jenkins, and spend most of your time at the office every day making fun of her?

KM: No. That’s not true at all.

SH: Isn’t it also true that you are friendly with a number ofNew York Journal employees who’d like nothing better than to see Mrs. Lopez reinstated?

KM: Well, yes. I mean, everybody loves Mrs. Lopez, and we all miss her very much—

SH: That is an inaccurate statement right there. Not everyone at theNew York Journal loves Mrs. Lopez. Not everyone believes she is entitled to get her job back. Not everyone agrees she even MAKES the best key lime pie in the city—

MH: Stuart. Come on. This is getting personal now, and I don’t think—

SH: YOUR friends are the only ones who feel that way, isn’t that so, Ms. Mackenzie? Including the woman you are now living with, Ms. Dolly Vargas. Who happens to be involved—and I mean in the romantic sense—with the owner of theNew York Journal, Peter Hargrave, who ALSO expressed regret at the loss of Mrs. Lopez’s baked goods. Isn’t that so, Ms. Mackenzie?

KM: Isn’t what so? That I’m living with Dolly, or that Peter likes Mrs. Lopez’s cinnamon buns?

SH: Isn’t it true, Ms. Mackenzie, that you and the entire staff of theNew York Journal are so addicted to this woman’s baking that you are lying about not having written that letter of warning in order to afford her a loophole with which she might win back her post?

KM: No!

MH: Stuart. Come on.

SH: Isn’t it true that your dislike of Amy Jenkins is so strong that you would do anything to get her into trouble with her superiors—such as deny having written a document that has what even you stated appears to be your signature on it?

KM: No! I mean, yes, it looks like my signature, but it’s not. I never even got a chance to finish writing it. Amy e-mailed me and said—

SH: That’s all. No more questions.

KM: But it’s not true. About the letter. I mean—

SH: I said no more questions, Ms. Mackenzie.

MH: I have a question for you, Stuart. How do you sleep at night?

SH: Better than you will, when Dad hears about this. Come on, Amy. We’re done here.

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

I’m in trouble. BIG trouble.

Oh my God. Oh my God, I don’t understand any of this. Mitch says it’s nothing, but I think he’s just saying that to make me feel better. It’s not nothing. It’s clearly not nothing. I mean, my boss just accused me of being a liar. How can that be nothing?

And I can see how from her point of view it would be more beneficial forme to be perceived as a liar than, you know, her. Which is basically what she is. I mean, ONE of us is lying, and if it’s not me, it has to be her. Because I certainly never wrote that letter, and I certainly never had Mrs. Lopez sign it.

So who did?

At least I have Mrs. Lopez to back me up. She says she didn’t sign it either.

Except . . .

I’m sorry, Mrs. Lopez is very sweet, but she’s not the most reliable witness. I mean, she definitely has an agenda, which is getting her job back. Mine is apparently that I want to get back at AMY, but for what? I mean, it’s true I think she’s a big, shallow loser and it’s true we call her the T.O.D., but how did she find out? Jen’s going to freak when she hears Amy knows, and the last thing I want is to freak out Jen, she’s got enough problems as it is with the fertility thing and—

OH!!! I’ve got to get control of myself. Think about something other than Stuart Hertzog. Think about kittens and rainbows. Oh yuck, that won’t work. Think about the Travel Channel. Yes, the Travel Channel, teal blue seas and yawning blue sky overhead, little huts on stilts above the water, like in Bali . . .

Oh my God, I can’t believe my boss basically accused me of being a liar in front of Mitch Hertzog, the one person in the world I wanted to impress with my cool professionalism. So far I’ve blathered about chicken and garlic sauce to him, had my ex-boyfriend THROW chicken in garlic sauce on him, nearly gotten sick in front of him, had my ex sing ballads in front of him, and now my boss is calling me a liar in front of him. . . .

Mitch says all I have to do is go back to my office and find the e-mail Amy sent me—the one telling me to skip the written warning—and forward it to him. Also forward him the draft of the letter I was writing to Mrs. Lopez but never finished. He seems to think this will make everything all right.

But how will it make everything all right? Sure, it’ll prove I didn’t have anything to do with that letter. But it won’t help theJournalwin Mrs. Lopez’s case against it. And isn’t Mitch supposed to be on thepaper’s side, not Mrs. Lopez’s? I mean, isn’t theJournal paying his fees?

But it’s like . . . it’s like hewants Mrs. Lopez to win. Like he set up this whole thing to make Amy look like the big, fat liar she is.

Which is fine, except that . . .

Amy KNOWS we call her the T.O.D. She KNOWS.

I mean, that’s not going to make working with her slightly UNCOMFORTABLE or anything. . . .

Oh, WHY did we ever start calling her that? I mean, she IS a tyrannical office despot, but we ought to have kept it to ourselves. It isn’t nice to call people names, even if they deserve it. All human beings have worth and dignity, that’s what Professor Wingblade always said. All human beings have worth and dignity. Except maybe for Nazis. And Al-Qaeda. And tyrannical office despots. . . .

STOP IT! Amy is not as bad as Hitler! She hasn’t killed anyone.

THAT WE KNOW OF.

I will never call her the T.O.D. again. I will never call her the T.O.D. again. I will never call her the T.O.D. again. I will—

Oh, God, my cab is a block away from 216 W. 57th even as I write. Please God, don’t let Amy be there when I walk in. Please let me get to my desk and forward the e-mail and the draft and get my stuff and go home sick for the rest of the day. . . . Please please please please please . . .

$4.50, plus $1 tip for cab. Don’t forget to send the T.O.D. a reimbursement form!

Wait . . . Why is Carl Hopkins standing by the door?

THE NEW YORK JOURNAL

New York City’s Leading Photo-Newspaper

Security Division

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

MEMO

To: All Personnel

Fr: Security Administration

Re: Persona Non Grata

Persona Non Grata Notification

Please note that the below-named individual has been classified “persona non grata” in 216 W. 57th Street as of the date of this notification and will continue to remain so indefinitely. This individual is not to be allowed on the premises of 216 W. 57th Street at any time during the term of above sanction.

Name: Kathleen A. Mackenzie

ID#: 3164-000-6794

Description: (photo attached)

White female, 25 years of age

5 feet, 4 inches, 120130 lbs.

Blonde hair, blue eyes

Contact Security immediately upon sighting of above individual.

cc: Amy Jenkins, Director, Human Resources

Hello, you’ve reached the voice mail of Jennifer Sadler. Sorry I can’t take your call right now. At the tone, please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

(Tone)

Jen? Jen, where are you, it’s Kate. I’m in the lobby downstairs. They won’t let me up. They say I’m PNG’d. I told them there has to be some kind of mistake, but they say there’s not, and they even showed me the form. It says I weigh a hundred twenty to a hundred and thirty pounds. Do I really look like I weigh that much? I only weigh one seventeen. I’ll bet Amy wrote this! That would explain it. . . . Do you know what’s going on? I’m . . . Oh, wait, here comes Amy. She’s holding . . . Oh my God, she’s holding a box of my stuff. That’s my Disneyland snowglobe from on top of my computer monitor. Why does the T.O.D. have my Disneyland snowglobe? Oh . . . my . . . God. . . .

(Click)

THE NEW YORK JOURNAL

New York City’s Leading Photo-Newspaper

Amy Denise Jenkins

Director

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com

Kathleen A. Mackenzie

Personnel Representative

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

This letter serves to inform you that as of today’s date, your employment at theNew York Journal has been terminated. Your belongings from your work station have been inventoried and packed. You are to be escorted from the premises by Security, and have been listed as Persona Non Grata at this location. Should you need to speak to anyone regarding the termination of your position at theNew York Journal, you will need to do so by telephone. Your initials below indicate receipt of this letter.

Amy Jenkins

Director, Human Resources

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

Well, it’s happened. I’m fired. I’m actually fired.

I’ve never been fired before. Even when I was the salad-bar attendant at Rax Roast Beef back in Luxor, and my manager, Peggy Ann, said I was the worst salad-bar attendant they’d ever had, because I picked the cauliflower out of the dressing canisters instead of stirring it to the bottom, I still never got fired for it.

Until now.

How could this have happened? I don’t understand how any of this could be happening. This morning I had a job. This morning I had no boyfriend, or place of my own to live. But I still had a job. I had a job that I even sort of liked.