Joining Office After Leave Quotes

Fire the Boss. “Big Al, when you join our business, here is what happens. Six months from now you walk into your boss’ office. You sit down in the chair, you put your feet up on his desk and you leave little scuff marks with your heels. “Then you put your hands behind your head and you calmly tell the boss that you can’t fit him into your schedule any longer. You’ve enjoyed working there, but if they have any problems after you leave, they can call you any Tuesday morning at 11:00 a.m. at your normal consulting rate. “Then you get up from the boss’ office, walk out to the main office desk, pick up your personal belongings, wave good-bye to all your fellow workers who said it couldn’t be done, hop into your brand-new bonus car, drive down to the drive-in teller window, deposit this month’s bonus check, and say to the bank teller: “‘Oh, I don’t know. Put this bonus check in savings or checking. It really doesn’t matter. I get these checks every month.’ “And then you drive home and relax, and have a nice glass of your favorite beverage.

Strauss finally had Oppenheimer exactly where he wanted him. Yet Oppie seems to have reacted calmly to the news, politely asking all the right questions, trying to explore his options. Thirty-five minutes after entering Strauss’ office, Oppenheimer rose to leave, telling Strauss that he was going to consult with Herb Marks. Strauss offered him the use of his chauffeur-driven Cadillac and Oppenheimer—distraught (outward appearances to the contrary)—foolishly accepted. But instead of going to Marks’ office, he directed the driver to the law offices of Joe Volpe, the former counsel to the AEC who together with Marks had given him legal advice during the Weinberg trial. Soon afterwards, Marks joined them and the three men spent an hour weighing Robert’s options. A hidden microphone recorded their deliberations. Anticipating that Oppenheimer would consult with Volpe, and unconcerned about violating the legal sanctity of client-lawyer privilege, Strauss had arranged in advance for Volpe’s office to be bugged.20 The hidden microphones in Volpe’s office allowed Strauss, through the transcripts provided to him, to monitor the discussion as to whether Oppenheimer ought to terminate his consulting contract or fight the charges in a formal hearing. Oppie was clearly undecided and anguished. Late that afternoon, Anne Wilson Marks came by and drove her husband and Robert back to their Georgetown home. On the way, Oppenheimer said, “I can’t believe what is happening to me.” That evening, Robert took the train back to Princeton to consult with Kitty.

I’d better make a list of all the things that make me feel good. Lists save lives. They keep our memories alive, as Umberto Eco says in The Infinity of Lists. Here goes: Laura’s voice message letting me know she’s at an LGBT+ rights demo like she’d tell me she was popping down to the shops, and warning me not to pick up if her boyfriend calls; he’s looking for her, and fretting because he can’t find her, and anyway he ‘doesn’t even know the difference between gay and straight’ Raffaella’s voice messages and her joy when she receives our books Maicol tearing through the cobbled streets of Lucignana, drunk on life My great-niece Rebecca joining the bookshop family and the certainty her cynicism will blossom into something completely unexpected My father’s existence The coffee I’m about to have with Tessa, who’s on her way to us on her motorbike with a box full of bookmarks, our official bookmarks she’s been gifting us since that day after the fire, with a quote from her mother Lynn Emanuele Trevi and Giovanni Giovannetti absconding from the literary conference in Lucca, later found smoking weed in a car in Piazza San Michele by a security guard, who happened to be the writer Vincenzo Pardini, so he let them go Ernesto and Mum cuddling on the sofa Daniele’s Barbara and Maurizio’s Barbara Ricchi e Poveri Donatella being sure Romano fancies her My mother trying to escape her hospital bed as soon as I look the other way Tina’s mother Mike quickly wrapping a towel around his waist as I walk into his garden and Mike leaving Brighton with two large boxes of tea stashed in his boot, concocting a story for the customs officers The anglers reading Louise Glück and Lawrence Ferlinghetti on the Segone The words I only ever hear in Lucignana: lollers and slackies and ‘bumming down’ to pee My own continued, miraculous existence.

Located far beyond the reach of government authorities, the Zaporozhian Sich continued to flourish even after the death of its founder. Any Christian male, irrespective of his social background, was free to come to this island fortress, with its rough wood-and-thatch barracks, and to join the Cossack brotherhood. He was also free to leave at will. Women and children, regarded as a hindrance in the steppe, were barred from entry. Refusing to recognize the authority of any ruler, the Zaporozhians governed themselves according to traditions and customs that evolved over the generations. All had equal rights and could participate in the frequent, boisterous councils (rady) in which the side that shouted loudest usually carried the day. These volatile gatherings elected and, with equal ease, deposed the Cossack leadership, which consisted of a hetman or otaman who had overall command, adjutants (osavuly), a chancellor (pysar), a quartermaster (obozny), and a judge (suddia). Each kurin, a term that referred to the Sich barracks and, by extension, to the military unit that lived in them, elected a similar subordinate group of officers, or starshyna. During campaigns, the authority of these officers was absolute, including the right to impose the death penalty. But in peacetime their power was limited. Generally, the Zaporozhians numbered about 5000-6000 men of whom about 10% served on a rotating basis as the garrison of the Sich, while the rest were engaged in campaigns or in peacetime occupations. The economy of the Sich consisted mainly of hunting, fishing, beekeeping, and salt making at the mouth of the Dnieper. Because the Sich lay on the trade route between the Commonwealth and the Black Sea, trade also played an important role.

It all started when World Vision, a humanitarian organization I had long supported and even traveled with, announced a change to its hiring policy allowing people in same-sex marriages to work in its US offices. In response, conservative evangelicals rallied in protest, and within seventy-two hours, more than ten thousand children had lost their financial support from cancelled World Vision sponsorships. Ten thousand children. To try and stem some of the bleeding, I joined with several other World Vision bloggers to encourage my readers to sponsor children or make one-time donations to the organization, which was reeling as church after church called to cut off funding. We had raised several thousand dollars and multiple sponsorships when the CEO of World Vision announced the charity would reverse its decision and return to its old policy against gay and lesbian employees. It had worked. Using needy kids as bargaining chips in the culture war had actually worked.

I decided not to turn away and let him rot. I took a different tack. God knows he wanted to get out, but how? It came to me that the very zeal with which he clung to his religious ideals made him an ideal prospect of our organization, so I put that to him. Agree to join up with the SS and I will speak in your behalf. It didn’t hurt, either, that his father was a noted magistrate at Neuruppin. “At first he balked, but didn’t hold out long. My argument won over the review board, who saw things my way – much to the satisfaction of his father, I might add. He was assigned to train in Holland for our Hygiene Service, after which we went our separate ways. Till this day we’ve never so much as had a beer together, in fact I haven’t seen him personally at all, since the day I bade farewell to him in Stuttgart. My fond memories of him went beyond the feather he was in my cap I had every reason to believe he would pan out as the model SS officer he seemed to have the makings of. You might say he became, from being my protégé, something of a son to me. The son I never had and never will.” He stopped a moment to watch her. “I’m in no hurry to do him harm. He’s definitely on our side, for all intents and purposes. However, something recently has happened to cast doubts on the ideals I dressed him up in. I will not hand it over to the Gestapo and their clubfooted methods. I could be wrong, yet I cannot afford to leave a stone unturned. The Gestapo would plow up a whole field and eat everything in sight. That’s where you come in.” “How do you think you’ll get away with this?” “With the utmost discretion between you

Mrs Merkel’s predecessor, Gerhard Schröder, took this approach furthest, becoming pals with Mr Putin and, soon after leaving office, joining the board of a pipeline company carrying Russian gas to Germany. Even now, Mr Schröder preaches empathy for Mr Putin, arguing that his actions in the Crimea are no different to NATO’s intervention in Kosovo in 1999, in which Germany took part under Mr Schröder.

out,’ Thea said. ‘But I suppose Reuben’s briefing him on the situation.’ She was worried about her brother who, apart from a brief visit to the house for a drink and something to eat when the Home Guard shifts changed over, had remained outside watching over things. He wasn’t limiting his duty to three-hour shifts, but then as a sergeant he had more responsibility, and the bomb was not far from where he lived either. Leaving most of the men waiting near the lorry, Reuben, the officer and his sergeant disappeared in the direction of Five Acres field and the bomb. ‘It’s no good. I need to know what’s going on!’ Hettie heaved up the sash window and beckoned to the soldiers with her hand. A corporal came over and crouched down near the open sash window so he could speak through it. ‘Are you all right in there?’ he asked. ‘We want to know what’s going on,’ Hettie said. ‘They’ve gone to have a look at the UXB – see what needs doing. They’ll probe down with a rod to see how deep the bomb is and then it will be our job to dig down to it so the Lieutenant can defuse it,’ he explained. ‘Are you hungry?’ Hettie asked. ‘We’ve been baking while we waited so we can keep you well fed. We’ve made Norfolk shortcakes, currant buns…’ ‘That sounds delicious,’ the corporal smiled. ‘And yes, we’d love some of your baking later, if that’s all right. Once we’ve done our job and the bomb’s made safe.’ ‘How long do you think it will take?’ Thea asked. ‘It depends on how deep the bomb is.’ The corporal lifted a shoulder. ‘I’d better get the men organised and ready. Keep yourselves safely indoors, won’t you?’ He stood up and joined the rest of the soldiers who were now unloading equipment from the back of the truck – wheelbarrows, shovels, planks of woods, saws, sandbags and other paraphernalia they’d need to do their job. It must have only been a matter of five to ten minutes before the officer and sergeant returned and ordered the unit into action. Pushing wheelbarrows piled with equipment and carrying shovels over their shoulders, the men headed back around the side of the house towards where the bomb had fallen. ‘Now all we can do is wait again.’ Hettie let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’m going to do some knitting to occupy my fingers.’ She went off to the kitchen. ‘She’s worried,’ Flo said after Hettie had left the room. ‘I know, we all are. This isn’t exactly what we expected to happen today.’ Thea closed the window. ‘What are you going to do while we wait?’ ‘I think I’ll write a letter to my grandparents,’ Flo said. ‘I’ll be up in my bedroom if you need me.’ Left alone in the sitting room, Thea thought of the many jobs she should have been doing in the garden today, all of which were even more behind schedule now. She decided to go up to her bedroom and have a nap to try to make up for missed sleep from last night, because as soon as the bomb was defused, she needed to get back outside and working again — and carry on for as long as there was light enough to see by. * * * When Thea came downstairs a couple of hours later, she found that Hettie had company in the kitchen – two of the members of the Home Guard who were on duty from the second shift. One was Alf Barker from the grocer’s shop and the other a man she didn’t recognise. ‘Hello,’ Thea said, giving them a welcoming smile. ‘What’s happening out there? Have they defused it yet?’ ‘They’ve finished the digging and the men have retreated behind the safety point they set up. Now it’s the officer’s turn to do his bit,’ Alf told her. ‘We’ve