"Sorry Marisa, but you've got to do something about this budget problem. The park just isn't making enough money to sustain everything we have going on at the moment." I hated talking over the phone to my boss, let alone in person. "But Mr. Teller, we're still making money. Sure, profit is down a bit but it's not like we're losing money," I asserted to him.

"I know, but the point remains. Close down a stall that isn't making anything, increase ticket prices by half a dollar, cut the excess weight, trim the fat. Do what you have to do. If worse comes to worst, just do less maintenance on the rides."

"... That was a joke, Marisa," he said in a sigh. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll figure something out, it's not as difficult as you think. Trust me, it will work out. I have to go to a meeting now, good luck.".

There were times when being the manager of an amusement park was not all fun and games, regardless of how much fun and games were strewn about the premises. A manager who says they don't have room for cuts is a liar. Did I have any cuts to make? Of course not. Does that make me a liar? Of course it does. There had to be something. Noticing the reflection of the high gleaming through the window of my office towering above all the park guests, I looked outside, hoping for inspiration. I saw the food stalls, but they all seemed rather busy. I saw all the rides and thought maybe we could do less maintenance? No, that was a joke. Then, in some sort of heavenly coincidence, my eyes locked on to Alex Big. Well-known slacker and clown school drop out. I knew he was a liar ever since I heard from my assistant manager that he fibbed being a clown school graduate on his application. Rather, he was kicked out for one reason or another. Firing him could easily save us twelve thousand dollars a year- minimum. At this point, the choice was crystal clear. I paged a worker to call him up to my office.

A more than sufficient twenty-five minutes later, Alex was knocking at my door. I figured he was still wearing his costume, so I let him know before he got in that he could take off the head of the outfit for it must have been burning there. I mean, he was already getting fired for Christ's sake.

I observed him as he walked brutishly into my room with the coordination and grace, or lack thereof, of a drunk ogre. He violently slid the seat back with one hand and nonchalantly took a seat with a head tilted to the side, half-open eyes and legs wide open, almost as if to say, "I'm getting fired anyway, no need to respect you anymore. Fuck you." Regardless of how much I loathed his personality, I strained to remain respectful.

"Alex, you've been here for how long? Three months? Well, anyway, I called you in today because I've been watching you work as of late and I haven't seen you greet more than ten people in the past week." I had no idea about his work habits and in the back of my head I was questioning whether or not he knew I was lying. Judging from his expression, he probably could not have cared less for what I had to say. I said the mandatory "you're fired, " and he left my office without conflict.

Then, a realization came. I treated Alex not as person, but as an expense for doing a poor job. Yet, I had not done a good job myself. I took the easy way out and got rid of the quiet and helpless man who I knew would not fight and instead sit there with a half-listening ears and fully not-caring brain.

Afterwards, I recreated the situation, but this time I was facing the boss, Mr. Teller.

Shame and remorse fell over my entire being as I realized the irony of the entire situation.

I stared at the empty seat in front of me, ridden of life and instead replaced with money. I could just as easily be sitting there. I am just an expense.