Bob walks into the meeting room, a whirlwind of chaos and destruction. His arrival is heralded by the sound of shattering glass and the scent of burnt coffee.

MTG-4, the meeting that was supposed to be about "synergy" and "disruption," quickly devolves into a free-for-all of personal attacks and bitter recriminations.

The air is thick with tension, like a bad case of morning breath on a Monday. Someone mentions "synergy" for the last time, and the room falls silent in disgust.

The minutes tick by like hours as the meeting careens out of control, a speeding train of pointless PowerPoint slides and half-hearted apologies.

Bob stands at the center of the maelstrom, a human hurricane of incompetence and half-baked ideas.

He has no idea what's going on, nor does he care.

What Bob says when he leaves

Bob's Post-Mortem