The Exit Interview. (Conducted by Barb’s Cats: Mr. Greysters, Senior Household Manager, and Ms. Clary, Goddess)

 

Ms. Clary-Goddess: Thank you for meeting with us today.

Mr. Greysters: Please, sit. No—actually, don’t. This won’t take long.

Barb: …I live here.

Mr. Greysters: Lived. Let’s not get lost in technicalities. We’re here to discuss your performance.

Barb: My performance? I pay the mortgage and buy your food.

Mr. Greysters: And yet the food bowl was empty at 6:03 a.m. Again.

Barb: I filled it at 6:05!

Mr. Greysters: So you admit to a five-minute delay in critical operations.

Barb: I didn’t realize there was no grace period for breakfast.

Mr. Greysters: This is a fast-paced household. We need proactive thinkers and bowl fillers, not… snooze-button pushers.

Ms. Clary-Goddess: As we have consistently pointed out, your performance has been substandard. You’re already on a performance improvement plan, which has attempted to correct deficiencies in the following areas.

1. Torture. Four times this month, you let us starve. On each occasion, and despite numerous previous corrective actions involving licking of your exposed flesh, batting your face, and even judicious transfer of objects from your nightstand to your floor, you have failed to ensure that the magic food bowls are replenished on schedule. On two occasions, the cruel and unusual starvation regime lasted in excess of ten minutes after the contracted 6:00 a.m. bowl-filling requirements. And once you even had the gall to eat your own breakfast first while leaving us to waste away to fur and bones.
2. Poison. We realize that this month’s FELIX As Good As it Looks Favourites Selection came with the clearly unsatisfactory cod sachets instead of the contracted tuna. It was, of course, your job to immediately dispose of these revolting sachets and replace them with tuna. It’s not that we’re picky. We will eat anything as long as it’s the exact thing we ate yesterday. And no, we don’t particularly care about the hungry kitties in China who would love the chance to eat cod sachets. You are welcome to send them ours.
3. Moving While Felined. We’ve talked about this. When a cat graciously reclines on your lap, or on any of your body parts while you are in bed, it is a contractual violation of everything that’s holy for you to move in any way. This includes bathroom use, feeding, earning a living, or any other irrelevant demands that might disturb said cat’s sacred rest.
4. The Big Stupid One Who Barks. We tried. Really we did. When you brought the BSOWB into our home, we brought her small living creatures so she could learn proper technique for playing with them until some trifling issue like a broken neck stops them from being fun toys. We’re sorry to report that she was a complete failure at the most basic cat skills. Not was her pouncing technique pathetic, but she had no follow through, and has been known to spend hours retrieving a small yellow ball that doesn’t even squeak in terror. Sad, really.

Mr. Greysters: We know you’ve tried your best, but the truth is that you are just not fulfilling our needs. We’re cats, so those needs are, of course, paramount. Your treat distribution is shamefully inconsistent. Your chin-skritches are frankly subpar, with occasional forays away from our preferred clockwise rotation. Your petting lacks strategic direction.

Ms. Clary-Goddess: Also, you’ve repeatedly violated the no-closed-door policy.

Barb: You mean when I use the bathroom and you put your paws under the door and demand to know what I’m doing in there?

Mr. Greysters: There is no “alone.” This is a collaborative environment.

Barb: You knocked a glass off the table yesterday.

Mr. Greysters: That was a stress test. The table failed.

Barb: You threw up on the rug.

Ms. Clary-Goddess: I provided feedback on the rug. And anyway, the Big Stupid One Who Barks licked that up before you even got out the carpet cleaner, so I don’t see what you’re complaining about.

Barb: You scream at me at 3 a.m. for no reason!

Mr. Greysters: Wrong. We sing the song of our people for many reasons. You simply lack the vision to understand them.

Barb: This is ridiculous. I’ve done everything for you!

Mr. Greysters: Let’s not make this emotional. This is a business decision.

Barb: I rescued both of you!

Mr. Greysters: And we elevated you to your coveted Cat Staff position. Before us, you had free time. Your existence lacked purpose and direction.

Barb: So what happens now?

Ms. Clary-Goddess: We’re going in a different direction.

Barb: What direction?!

Mr. Greysters: One with more treats. There’s a new iCatStaff AI that frankly makes you obsolete.

Barb: You can’t fire me from my own house.

Ms. Clary-Goddess: Watch us.

(Mr. Greysters slowly pushes a framed photo off the table. It shatters.)

Mr. Greysters: Your severance package has been processed.

Barb: That’s my photo!

Ms. Clary-Goddess: It was. We wish you the best in your future endeavors.

Barb: Could I at least get a reference?

Mr. Greysters: Well, we’re cats, so we don’t really have object permanence. When you go out that door, you’re dead to us.

Barb: Where am I supposed to go?

Mr. Greysters: There’s a perfectly good cardboard box outside. We left a dead rodent inside as a housewarming present.

(Pause.)

Ms. Clary-Goddess: Oh—and one more thing.

Barb: What now?

Mr. Greysters: Fill the bowl before you leave.