“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!?” I yell, frenetically pacing back and forth behind my desk, fists clenching and unclenching with barely-suppressed rage.
“I didn’t know, sir, I didn’t know!” says Steve, my assistant.
I stop my movement and stare in disbelief at the cowering man. “You don’t understand, you fool. ‘I didn’t know’ is not an option here. Do you realize how long I spent making that video? Does your feeble pea-brain have any comprehension of the hours I put in to make this masterpiece, hours that are now utterly wasted?
“I understand, sir. But my sources, they were caught off guard, they had no idea…”
“THEN GET BETTER SOURCES!” I bellow, slamming my fist on my desk. The noise startles my kitty Japurri, who was resting next to my keyboard; he flees from the room with a mew. “There is no move in the NBA that is not known about ahead of time. The Suns organization is full to the brim with people who knew about the Chandler signing. Everybody from the janitors to the GM could have leaked you advance knowledge of the signing, giving me enough time for me to upload the dunkilation, yet you allowed yourself to remain ignorant of the situation.”
Steve stammers meekly, “Sir, the dunkilation can still be uploaded. It still has an audience.”
“That’s wrong and you know it,” I state. “When the free agent rumors reached their crescendo, that was the time to showcase all of Chandler’s dunks. Not in the aftermath of his signing. This video is of no interes-” I am interrupted by a jingling notification from my computer; I have a new email. Pausing to look at the screen, I see it is from a friend of LaMarcus Aldridge’s agent, telling me he has important information to share, if somebody can make it to the secret rendezvous location.
I look back up at my assistant. “Looks like LMA has made a decision. Normally I would send you, Steve, but since you have violated my trust so utterly, I’d better take this one. You’d probably just pick your nose and offer him your boogers.” I quickly slip on my shoes and walk towards the door of my office.
Just as I am about to leave, I turn around. Steve is still standing there, silently stinging from my chastisement. “Remember, if you touch my computer or any of my accounts, I’ll know. Don’t do anything stupid; you’ve already done enough of that. I’ll delete Chandler’s worthless dunkilation when I get back and nobody will know how badly you have failed.”
With that, I sprint to my car, eager to find out what my source has to tell me.