" . . . let's cut to the chase."
He rolled both his sleeves up — big flourish, he was a big guy — and then, with no pretense, plopped them down on the desk.
"Let's talk turkey."
He stared, his eyes boring into me, the way a person could — usually male, usually white — when they're holding all the cards, and you're just squirming and they think they're making a "point."
"WHO'S going to want to provide free energy?" (He abruptly started in, like a booming voice over an amplifier, or through a P.A. system; this guy was "ALL-CAPS" all the way, italics only grudgingly, or as a last resort.)
"Tech geeks. They got other things to think abou—"
(But he had already started laughing — LOUD! — at "tech geeks." I finished the rest, for myself, by myself, and to record for you, Dear Reader!)
He kicked me out of the office.
Years later, I thought, at least we've still got—
"HEY! Pipe DOWN, over there!"
— finis —