After seven years of pushing numbers and managing mid-tier clients, Brian Jennings had finally had enough. He wasn’t untalented—far from it. But the firm never seemed to trust him with their biggest accounts. It was like being the backup quarterback in a game where the starter never got injured. So, after much brooding and a few glasses of whiskey, he had typed up his resignation letter. It was crisp, professional, and final. “Effective immediately,” it read.
The moment he pressed print, his golden retriever, Duke, perked up from his spot by the couch. Duke was an observant dog. Too observant.
“Relax, buddy. Just a career change, not the end of the world,” Brian muttered.
Duke wagged his tail, eyes locked on the sheet of paper like it was a prized tennis ball. Then came the knock on the door. Brian nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Brian! You home?”
It was Greg. His boss. Of course. The one person who could make quitting feel like breaking up with an old friend. Brian shoved the resignation letter under a stack of mail and took a deep breath before opening the door. Greg grinned, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Didn’t see you at work today. Thought I’d drop by.”
“Yeah, uh, just taking a personal day.”
“Good timing,” Greg said, lowering himself onto the couch like he owned the place. “I wanted to talk to you about something important.”
Brian swallowed hard. “Oh?”
Greg leaned forward. “You’ve been here for seven years. I know you’ve been feeling overlooked, but that changes today. I’m giving you our biggest client. And a raise.”
Brian blinked. “Wait… what?”
Greg laughed. “What, you think I don’t see your potential? You deserve this, man.”
Brian felt an overwhelming wave of relief crash over him. No more underappreciation. No more job hunting. No awkward resignation speech. He could just stay. “Greg, I—”
Before he could finish, Duke trotted into the room, tail wagging, carrying the resignation letter proudly in his mouth. Brian’s stomach dropped. Greg’s eyes flicked to the paper. Brian reacted fast, snatching the letter from Duke’s mouth and flinging it behind him onto the floor. “Anyway! You were saying?”
Duke’s ears perked up. His favorite game: fetch. With boundless enthusiasm, he spun around, retrieved the letter, and returned, depositing it directly onto Greg’s lap. Brian felt his soul leave his body.
Greg picked up the paper and turned it over. His smile faltered as his eyes landed on the word “Resignation.”
Silence.
Brian opened his mouth to explain, but Greg held up a hand. He looked down at Duke, who stared up with the innocent glee of a dog who had absolutely no idea he had just ruined his owner’s life.
“Well,” Greg said slowly, “this is awkward.”
Brian rubbed the back of his neck. “I… was considering my options.”
Greg raised an eyebrow. “Options?”
Brian sighed. “Look, I felt stuck. But if you really think I deserve that promotion—”
Duke wagged his tail and plopped his head onto Greg’s knee, as if trying to mediate the conversation. Greg exhaled, then chuckled. “You know what? I’m going to pretend I never saw this.” He crumpled the letter and tossed it over his shoulder. “But tell you what—if you ever do want to quit, maybe don’t let your dog handle the paperwork.”
Brian grinned. “Yeah… noted.”
Duke barked happily, leaping off the couch to fetch the crumpled letter again. Greg shook his head. “You know what? I’ll see you at work.”
As the door closed behind him, Brian sighed in relief. Then Duke proudly trotted back in, dropping the resignation letter at Brian’s feet. Brian glared at him. “Not. Helping.”
Duke wagged his tail.
