There’s only one thing more satisfying than seeing a beloved colleague perp-walked out the door, clutching their pathetic little bankers’ box filled with mementos and stolen Sharpies… and that’s hearing about a unbeloved client getting thrown out on his or hers or someone else’s buttocks.
And they’d none of them be missed.
There’s the client who bellows,
With enthusiastic tone,
“That was MY idea!”
Claiming every concept as his own.
And you-now-who at you-know where,
Who always reeks of Cheez-It;
Who never knows what she wants
And doesn't know it when she sees it.
I don’t think they would be missed
I’m sure they’d not be missed.