bimbo to get "Black owned" tattooed.

You just had about enough. This needy little whiny bitch doesn't seem to realize you're just his employee and not his goddamn life coach.

"Man do whatever. That's got nothing to do with me nigga." You get up and the fuck outta here.

Drake looked hurt as you left, but he's a grown man so whatever. And Chubbs, sat down right after you got up. He's his friend, not you, so he can try to reign this MF in.

You walk around for a while, trying to clear your head from all that booze, when you get a message on your phone. It's from Drake, just three little words.

"You are fired."

Fuck. Just great. And for what? Because you don't want to be responsible for the choices a guy in his 30s makes?

You think about shooting a message back, telling him what you really think about the Drizzler, but then decide otherwise.

It's not worth the hassle. And you still expect to get a letter of recommendation out of this. Because not only are you excellent at your job, your REAL job, but you also pretty much babysat this manchild's grown ass for the past couple years. You're better off without him.