I had been asked how did I know Mort Panludd would be the perfect follow for the Boss from Hell.
We’d gone off on a tangent, describing our torment of seven years, before I brought it back to the core.
“Anyone competent who came in after Dic Tator, (our name for the previous boss) would notice the discrepancies.” I said, sipping my wine. “They’d wonder about the salaries they paid every week for people who didn’t exist, about the various ‘Contracts’ paid to ‘Independent Contractors’ which were clearly in our skill set.”
I paused, met eyes, continued.
“Getting an idiot like Pud was a life preserver. It allowed us to continue ‘working’ (I made finger quotes) and collecting, and then, able leave at the end of our contracts without question. The damage Pud is doing makes our incursions so trivial that they’ll not be uncovered.”
Tanya began, “Sure…we were those other outside companies, but no one knew, and anyway, all of them have been sold…?”
“Tee, we have nothing to worry about. The bills the company sent which were paid was for work done. The work was done…we did it… every single contract was fulfilled…”
“Still…” Tanya shrugged.
“I can’t believe people are that stupid.” Ken said, going for another beer.
“Welcome to Earth,” I laughed.