Report

The boss stormed in and slammed the door behind him. This wasn't going to end well. He was cracking his knuckles and his face was the colour of a freshly-painted London bus.
He threw a pile of papers on the desk.
"What's this, Jones?"
It was the report Jones had written. They both knew this. Jones was unsure how to answer.
"I'll tell you what it is, shall I?"
He wasn't going to tell him it was the report, of that Jones was sure.
"It's a piece of shit, that's what."
It was good to know that the hours he'd put into it were appreciated.
"The figures are terrible."
The figures were terrible. That was very true, but short of lying about them they weren't going to look any better.
"The shareholders won't like this. You'll have to do better."
He headed for the door and turned to look at Jones as he grasped the handle.
"Just make shit up if necessary. They won't know the difference."
Jones nodded and set about drafting his letter of resignation.