I'm Sorry. You're Fired.

I’m sorry, Fred.  You’re not really fitting into the role.  We’re going to have to let you go.

Look Samantha, we’re sorry, but we don’t think you’re the right person for this position.  Your employment will terminate after the next financial quarter.

Bob, we’ve known each other a long time and you should know that this isn’t easy for me. After a long and thorough series of talks, the committee has decided that you’re not fit for our company and the tasks it demands of you.  There’s no need to come in next week.  I’m sorry.

You’re ugly Sally.  And now you’re also fired.  Please leave.

Look, buddy. We don’t get along.  You know it,I know it and the whole goddamn office knows it.  I can either fire you, or you can just leave.  I’ll even give you a reference.  How about it?

Anthony, you’re a misogynistic jerk-off.  I don’t really know how else to put it.  You can’t grab Kelly like that and after so many clear and explicit rejections, no one really understands why you still leave pseudo-anonymous notes on the company fridge inviting her into the janitor’s closet for a "romp".  Do you really expect me not to fire you?

Ted, pack your stuff.  Ya fired, mate.

Amy, this is a very difficult situation.  We understand your condition and that your needs are not as easily met as most employees.  But when we said to stop seducing our male employees during work hours, we sort of meant the women too.  And the desks.  Our office just can’t go on smelling like this.  You’re fish.  I mean fired—you’re fired.

Attention team, could Bryan please come to the Director’s office to be relieved of his position.  Thank you.

Mick, you’re not a very nice person.  That glare you have just screams hate for the world and that’s not something we here at Kids’ Stuff can really work with.  As the face of the marketing team, you’re constantly frightening the kids we’re meant to be hooking into our products.  They just don’t need to know about your ruthless take on evolution and survival in modern society.  Nor do they like cigarette smoke.  Sorry, mate. You might want to pack your stuff tonight; you’ve already been replaced.

Maria, you’re fired because someone else told me I had to do it.  Please let’s stay in touch.  I’ll never forget those Latin thighs and the nights you spent playing maid for me in the CEO’s office.  Adios, mi bonita.

Adam. After some thought and a few simple social tests, we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re actually mentally challenged and probably not fit to organise the party’s immigration policies. We’ve contacted the loony bin and it’s being wheeled down as we speak.  You’re fired.

Angelo, all you do is talk about yourself.  You work hard, but no one cares about all this stuff you’re saying. They have a constant stream of thoughts too, but often as humans we filter through what we want to say and what we don’t feel the need to say.  You probably need to look into that.  Good luck finding further employment.

Betty, you’re so damn fine.  But we can’t keep you, baby.  The company just can’t sustain such fine legs as those.  And you’re driving us into bankruptcy with those calves, too.  Sorry sweetcheeks.  See you in heaven.

Willy, you’re a bit stiff.  Our company’s image is all about limber, flaccid.  Either correct your posture or we’re going to have to free you.

Good evening, Krystal.  No, look, put those away; we need to talk.  Krystal, this is serious.  Baby, not now.  The company’s trying to—oh, please, take it out of there.  You can’t talk to me with that there.  Krystal!  You’re still fired.

Our company, Mr Henderson, has decided that your worth does not correlate with our expectations.  Simply put, you’re just not good enough.  Statistically, socially, physically—you don’t make the cut.  I hope you can find another job that has far lower standards. Good day.

You’re fired.  I’m looking into a mirror and relieving myself of my own position.  How is this experience rationalised?

As heavenly beings, we cannot accept demons into our marketing kingdom.  We’re soul traders, you see.  See you in hell.

Carol, you ain’t nothin’ but a hussy.  Sit on this, before I fire you.

Boss? You’re fired.  I dislike the way you reign over everyone else just because of a fairly well-embedded power structure.  So I’m firing you now.  Get the fuck out of my office.  Ya cunt.

I’m fired. See, I’m burning all over.  Ouch.

Helen, we’re retrenching you.  You’re free now.  Go forth and enjoy what’s left of your life,with a small but seemingly generous sum of money to see you to the grave.  I hope your arthritis holds up so you don’t have to spend the remaining years limping to the supermarket and back just to survive day-to-day. Neeeeeext!

Andy, the higher-ups keep telling me to tell other people things that I have little to no understanding of.  I’m supposed to be “terminating” about six people today.  Where the fuck is the office terminator?  What does it all mean?

Rob, let’s face it: you don’t want to work here.  And we don’t want you working here.  You feel my drift?  See you at the pub.

You’re just fucking fired, cunt.