The North End can stick it up its South End.

I was caught red-handed.
I had distributed chowder among guests at Legal Sea Foods without making them pay for it. The managers do it, why shouldn't I?
"Meet me downstairs," my manager sternly told me in the middle of my shift.
"We are very disappointed. Where is that check for the table with chowder?"
"There isn't a check. It's chowder."
"Stealing is stealing, Nathan. We fire people for things like this. It would be a shame to have to fire you over chowder."
Yes, I thought, it would also look like poor management.
"You're suspended for three days. We'll see you Wednesday at 9 am. We'll see whether you still have a job here or not."

Wednesday morning came. I woke up at 7. I pressed my pants, my shirt, and cleaned my dress shoes. I arrived 10 minutes early to give the impression I care. At which point, 25 minutes later, at 9:15, my manager sat me down.
"I think you saw this coming. At this juncture I think we'll be parting ways."
I wasn't sure if I was fired or if he was sending me on vacation. I looked down at my clothes. Everything was clean and pressed. If I had foresaw my termination, wouldn't I have chosen anything else? Gym shorts and flip flops, maybe?
No, he was firing me. Over chowder. But he didn't even fire me. We were just parting ways. Like old friends who move to different parts of the country.