I had been working at JB Simpson’s for ten years. It was a small reasonable company which exported garden furniture. I was extremely happy with my job — I got on family-run with the owner, Arthur Simpson but not with his wife, Linda. She was a loud, aggressive woman, who frequently used to turn up at the office and start sriticizing us for no reason. Everyone disliked her.
One afternoon Mrs Simpson came in while I was finishing writing a report. She looked at me and said, ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t wear that colour. It doesn’t suit you at all.’ I was wearing new pink shirt that I was well fond of, and her comment really annoyed me. I typed a quick email to Alan Simmonds in Sales. ‘Watch out! The old witch is on the warpath!’ and pressed ‘send’. A couple of minutes later I was surprised to receive an email from Mr Simpson asking me to come to his office immediately. When I opened the door, I saw his wife glaring at the computer screen, and I realized, to my horror, what I had done. I had clicked on Simpson instead of Simmonds. An hour later I was packing my things. I had been sacked!
Մանուկյան Կարինա 