"We're Going To Have To Let You Go" - A play in one act, by Devon DeLapp

                 WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO LET YOU GO

                        A Play in One Act

                         By Devon DeLapp

Players:

Devon....Me
Charlie....My Boss
Brian....My Other Boss
Joyce....The Junior Attorney

Scene:

A sparsely furnished entertainment law office, decorated in shades of
tan and sky blue; contemporary minimalist meets southwest folk. There
are weathered slate floors and a painting of a canyon on the wall.
Four open cubicles with waist-height walls face four offices with
doors. The cubicles are stocked with the typical tools of a legal 
assistant: computer, phone, filing tray. A few windows on the back 
wall show the late-daylight outside.

At the center cubicle, DEVON works at his computer. CHARLIE is visible
through the door in the office immediately before him, reading papers.
The phone rings. Devon answers:

DEVON: Charlie's office. (a beat) Just a moment, Jason.

Devon presses a button on the phone, paging his boss.

DEVON (over pager): Charlie, I have Jason Spilack for you.

CHARLIE: No.

DEVON (returning to Jason): Jason, can we give you a call right back? Thanks.

He hangs up, then taps the keyboard. The printer starts chugging out
pages. BRIAN enters and crosses into Charlie's office. He smiles at
Devon as he passes, then closes the door.

LIGHTS OUT:

LIGHTS UP:

Devon straightens a stack of paper against the desk, then binds them
with brads: it's a script. He removes a red pen and begins editing.
Brian opens the door and waits.

CHARLIE: Devon, come in here, please.

Devon hides the script under other papers, then enters the office.
Brian closes the door.

The walls pull back to reveal the interior of Charlie's office. Loose
paper and filing is strewn across the floor in piles. Charlie sits
behind a large metal desk, also covered with piles. A few liquor
bottles line the floor in a corner, while another bottle holds down a
pile on the desk. Brian sits in a chair to Charlie's right. Devon
removes a pile from the only remaining space in a low love seat facing
them both and sits down. Everyone is quiet for a moment.

CHARLIE: Devon, there's no easy way to say this. We like you. We really do-

BRIAN: We do.

CHARLIE: -and that's the only reason you've been around here this
long. You're smart, and there's been no lack of effort. We spoke
before about you stepping it up a notch. You've been better, but it
hasn't been enough. You're not a detail oriented person. You're not
the right person for this position, so we're going to have to let you
go.

DEVON: Oh. Wow.

There's an awkward beat.

CHARLIE: Was this entirely unexpected?

DEVON: I, uh. No. I mean, I'm surprised. But, uh. I guess...

CHARLIE: You're place is in a creative position, not this kind of
work. We both feel really bad. It was a hard decision. I arranged for
you to get two weeks severance pay, though, which is nice, yeah?
You'll need to sign a little something for it, but...

BRIAN: It's just a completely standard document that says the
departure was amicable, and that you won't sue us, and so on. Very
standard.

DEVON: Oh. Okay.

CHARLIE: Do you understand why? It's not personal. I like you. I just
need someone that gives me trust, and I don't get that from you.

DEVON: No, I understand. You handle big clients. A lot of money. You
need all the support you can get. It's okay.

Charlie smiles and rises. Brian and Devon follow suit.

CHARLIE: Great, and I really am sorry it didn't work out.

DEVON: Me too, but, it's okay.

CHARLIE: And hey, who knows what this will lead to. This might be a
great thing for you. Anyway, you're not leaving completely empty
handed. We have some money for you, and you made some contacts. Let's
have a drink. We'll even make some calls to help you find a new job,
if you want. So, no hard feelings?

DEVON: No hard feelings.

CHARLIE: Great. Way to talk, Brian. I'm glad you were in here to help.
C'mon, Devon. Let's get your check.

Charlie, Devon, and Brian exit.

LIGHTS OUT:

LIGHTS UP:

Another office, much cleaner than the first. A large jar of candy sits
atop a cabinet. Devon enters, holding a check. JOYCE, a woman with
blond hair looks up. She knows.

DEVON: Hey, Joyce. I just got shit-canned, so it looks like I'm heading out.

They both laugh.

JOYCE: Well, I'm really sorry to see you go. It's rough. I know some
people at the studios. Can I ask around for you, see if anyone is
hiring?

DEVON: That'd be great. (a beat) Can I have a piece of candy?

JOYCE: Of course!

DEVON (taking a candy): I'm gonna miss this candy. And our chats.

JOYCE: Me too.

DEVON (looking at candy): Watermelon Jolly Rancher. Man, who eats these?

JOYCE: I do!

DEVON: They give me a headache. They're almost as bad as Apple.

Both laugh again. A beat.

DEVON: Well, see you later, Joyce. Thanks, again.

JOYCE: Of course, anytime.

Devon exits.

LIGHTS OUT:

LIGHTS UP:

Devon packs up his remaining papers. Through the windows we see it is
dark outside. Charlie works in his office.

CHARLIE: Anyone else still here?

DEVON: Just me, finishing up.

Devon places a last folder in a backpack, then zips it shut. That's
it. Devon enters Charlie's office.

DEVON: Well, I'm heading out.

CHARLIE: Alright buddy, it's been great. I'm sorry again.

DEVON: Can I just ask you one last thing?

CHARLIE: You want to call me a jackass? That's what the last girl I
did this to said. But that was fine -- I didn't like her. And you have
every right.

Devon looks towards the bottles lining the wall.

DEVON: Can you tell me what the hell the difference is between a
scotch someone would pay ten dollars for, and a scotch someone would
pay one hundred dollars for?

Charlie smiles.

CHARLIE: Well, I'll just have to show you. Go grab some clean glasses.
I'll pour.

LIGHTS DIM TO HALF:

Devon grabs two glasses and Charlie opens the first bottle. They take
seats and talk animatedly. After a beat, Devon rises. A SPOTLIGHT hits
him, while the rest of the LIGHTS GO OUT. On the dark stage, Devon
directly addresses the audience, still holding his glass of scotch.

DEVON: We talked for over an hour, about the business, about what I
should do career-wise, about scotch. No longer employee-employer, the
conversation was easy. Charlie was more comfortable and charming than
I'd ever seen him in the three months I worked as his assistant. It
felt like a preview of what those big clients that pay him five
percent get. Being fired? Well, it was a blow to the ego, but I'll get
over it. Being told I'm not the best at serving coffee or answering
phones for an attorney, well... I can live with that. And I have more
time to write now. Lots more time.

A beat. Devon considers his drink.

DEVON: I don't know if Charlie will make those calls. For all I know,
my next paycheck could be as a waiter, not as a writer. He described
the good things in life, like decent scotch, and how it takes time to
earn them. But that night, as far as being shit-canned goes, it could 
have been a lot worse. Charlie said that maybe one day I'd be paying 
him five percent. I don't know if he was joking, or just covering his 
bases, but it was good to hear all the same.

Devon takes a sip of the scotch.

DEVON: Mm. Glenlochy, from the Islay region. Single malt. It's been aged
twelve years to achieve that smokey and peaty taste distinctive to the area.
Twelve years. I had just entered middle school then. Charlie was a
junior lawyer, starting his career. And now, at Glenlochy, they're
closing up new barrels, starting them on their own twelve year journey.
I can't say now, but when they pull those dusty barrels down, I hope 
I'm there, my glass ready.

Devon takes another sip and walks out of the SPOTLIGHT.

THE END.