“Uh…”

We’re also going to have to discontinue our executive box office operations and deep-six our limo service to all the big shows like Robert Plant and Alicia Keys.”

“Uh…”

“But that’s only the tip of the proverbial cattle prod, Jenkins.” Stock options? Forget ’em. Golden parachutes? They’re history. Tickets for Sheryl Crow and Jack Johnson charged to the corporate credit card? A thing of the past.”

“Uh…”

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering if there’s a place in this reorganization for an executive of your talents. I won’t lie to you, Jenkins. Today, I laid off more than 9,251 of the best, sharpest, go-getting execs in the company, but I believe I’ve found a position for a man like you.”

“Uh…”

“Of course, it means combining some of our departments, like acquisitions and janitorial. It means long hours and even longer days. It means skipping any concert that comes to town, like The Beach Boys and A*Teens.”

“Uh…”

“And another thing. It says here that you’re getting married this Saturday. Well, you can forget about that. And that honeymoon where you and your new bride were planning on seeing Murderdolls and Superchic[k]? No way. And don’t even think about starting a family on the new, reduced salary we’ll be paying you.”

“Uh…”

“Yes, Jenkins, if the company is to survive this latest economic upheaval, everyone is going to have to bend over, grab their ankles and pull up the bottom line by their own bootstraps.”

“Uh…”

“So, as you can plainly see, it’s going to be work, work, and more work. Which means no time for a personal life, no time for a wife and kids, and absolutely no time for shows like Beck and Goo Goo Dolls. Any questions?”

“Uh…”

“Dammit, Jenkins, is that all you can say? ‘Uh… Uh… Uh…?’ I’ve just cut your salary to the bone, I’ve put the kibosh on your wedding plans and I’ve shattered all your dreams of financial security and early retirement. Surely you must have one question.”

“Well…”

“Come on, Jenkins, out with it.”

“Uh… What did you say about the skybox?”