On getting fired
Allow me to set forth a most solemn proposition my dear friend. Despite the monumental loss of my Roman citizenship, perhaps one should use this most gracious endowment of cash-money to one's advantage. My friend, imagine a table of green felt, lush and verdant like the tree speckled hills of the Appalachian mountains. However, this particular table is verdant not with trees, but with the exchange of chips, clay chips to be specific.
Why should I not oblige myself my good man? I believe that the crowds of intoxicated, middle-aged white men milling about that dark and seedy environment are almost like rotund well-fed fish, unable to evade the astute predator. Surely this is the ideal location for an opportunistic former software practitioner.
My dear man, my latest contrivance is either the height of genius, or the depths of folly. When we next speak I shall either be rolling on a plush carpet of benjamins, or clutching a tin can on the street corner.