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KM: Mrs. Lopez—

IL: Oh, don’t cry,carina! I’m sure you’re not supposed to cry when you fire someone. Here, we’ll turn this off, so we don’t get you into—

To: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Ida Lopez

Please see me first thing tomorrow morning concerning the recording of your interview with Ida Lopez, which I’ve just finished listening to.

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

This e-mail is intended only for the use of the individual to which it is addressed and may contain information that is privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that you have received this transmission in error; any review, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this transmission is prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify us immediately by reply e-mail and delete this message and all of its attachments.

Appetizers

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Oh my God, I am so fired. I can’t believe how fired I am. Why did I have to start crying during the

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interview? Why didn’t I think to turn the tape off before I started bawling my head off?

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Why can’t I be like the T.O.D.? SHE would never cry while firing someone. But I don’t WANT to be

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like the T.O.D. I hate her. I should just quit. Now I have to find a new job on top of a new apt. and

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boyfriend. WHY IS EVERYTHING BAD HAPPENING TO ME ALL AT ONCE???? And why

Nachos with Jalapenos

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can I never find my journal when I need it? Which begs the question, where is it? What if

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Amy or one of the housekeeping staff finds it? And reads it? Then I will be fired for sure. And

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where the hell is Jen? She said to meet at Lupe’s after work, and so I’m here but she’s not, and now I

Salsa Cruda

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am sitting here by myself pretending to be jotting important business notes on this menu so that creepy

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guy in the corner won’t come over here and start talking to me. Must try to appear like imp. business

Quesadilla Grandes

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woman with no time for casual flirtation in Mexican restaurant. Oh my God, what if Jen doesn’t come

Mini Quesadilla Grandes

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and I end up having to eat here by myself and that guy comes over and tries to join me and it turns out

House Salad

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he’s the vestibule rapist and he follows me back to Jen’s building and pulls a knife on me? Thank

Mexican Salad

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God I took that self-defense class through the Staff Resource Program. Won’t he be surprised when

Mexican Grilled Chicken Salad

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I break his nasal cartilage with an upthrust heel of the hand and send it back into his brain stem, instantly

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paralyzing him? Although on the whole I would much rather just meet Jen for drinks like we planned.

Sides

Oh, God, I need a beer. Poor Mrs. Lopez! I guess she is looking for a job now, too. Only she has

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a lot more chance than I do of getting something decent. Those cookies were delicious, anybody

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would hire her in a minute, whereas I am totally useless. I can only type 35 words per minute and God

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knows I can’t supervise, my people skills are for shit, I can’t even get a decent boyfriend let alone tell

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people how to do their jobs. It is such a joke, the paper hiring me, it is just a wonder I have even

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lasted this long, at this point I should just—Oh, there’s Jen, THANK GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear Kate,

Sorry to leave a note taped up to the door like this (hi, Jen, hi, Craig), but it’s not like you’ve really given me much of an alternative. I mean, if you’d stop screening your calls at work and on your cell and pick up once in a while, I wouldn’t have to pull this stalkery crap. I’ve seriously got to talk to you, I’m going crazy here. You won’t return my messages, and every time I try to reach you at Jen’s, she says you’re out. I know you’re not out, I know you’re probably sitting right there on the couch right now watching freakingCharmed, or whatever.

Anyway, about that whole One Day at a Time thing. Look, maybe we WILL be together forever. Or maybe we won’t. I mean, I’m not omission. I can’t see into the future. I don’t know what’s going to happen.

Why can’t things go back to being the way they were, you know? How come all of a sudden we have to put, like, these labels on things? I mean, like why is it so important to you that I say I’ll love you forever? Why can’t I just say I love you, like, for now? Why isn’t that enough, all of a sudden? It was enough for the past ten years.

Katie, COME HOME. I miss you. The guys miss you, too.

Love,

Dale

P.S. I could really use your advice. The studio’s being really assholish, they’re trying to make us change our name from I’m Not Making Any More Sandwiches to just Sandwich. What kind of name is that for a band? Who’s gonna buy a record from a band called Sandwich?

Hi, you’ve reached Kate and Dale. We can’t come to the phone right now, so at the tone, please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you. Thanks!

(Tone)

Dale, you have got to change that message. I don’t live there anymore, remember? Anyway, about your note . . . Oh my God, I don’t even know why I called. Just forget it, okay? Nothing’s changed, I just—Oh, never mind.

(Click)

Hi, you’ve reached Kate and Dale. We can’t come to the phone right now, so at the tone, please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you. Thanks!