I removed Trevor Francis on his birthday and offered to post his

Host:
The dim light of an old lamp flickered in the corner of the room, casting long shadows on the walls. The sound of a distant train hummed softly in the background, blending with the faint clicking of a pen against the desk. Jack sat across from Jeeny, an empty mug in front of him, his jaw tight, his eyes focused on something only he could see. Jeeny, on the other hand, had her arms folded, her brow furrowed in thought. She had just read the quote aloud, the weight of it lingering in the stillness of the room.

Her voice broke the silence, quieter now, almost measured.

Jeeny:
"That quote... it’s harsh, isn’t it? ‘I removed Trevor Francis on his birthday and offered to post his P45 in his birthday card.’ There’s something almost cruel about the way it’s said. As if the moment of someone's personal celebration is nothing more than a vehicle for business, for dismissal. I don’t know how you can be so cold about something like that, Jack."

Jack’s eyes slowly met hers, his expression unreadable. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

Jack:
"Harsh? Maybe. But if you ask me, it’s realistic. That’s the nature of business, Jeeny. Emotions, birthdays, personal milestones — none of that matters when you’re dealing with decisions that need to be made. It's a business. People are hired and fired every day, regardless of when it happens. The day you let sentimentality get in the way of making the right choice is the day you stop being a good leader. And sometimes that means being the bad guy."

Jeeny’s lips tightened, and she leaned forward, her eyes flashing with a sudden intensity. Her voice, though steady, carried a charge of emotion.

Jeeny:
"But what about humanity, Jack? Where does that go when you’re so willing to treat people like that? A birthday is supposed to be a celebration of a person’s life, a moment where they feel valued, where they feel like they matter. To turn that into a business transaction is... well, it’s dehumanizing. You don’t just get to strip someone of their dignity for the sake of your company’s bottom line. Where’s the empathy in that? Where’s the respect for another human being?"

Jack’s gaze softened for a brief second, but then he straightened, his voice unwavering.

Jack:
"Empathy’s fine, Jeeny, but survival comes first. When you're in charge of a business, you're not there to pamper people's feelings — you're there to make decisions that will keep the company afloat. Look at Trevor Francis. He wasn’t cutting it anymore. It wasn’t a matter of his birthday, it was a matter of his performance. You think anyone’s going to be patting you on the back when the numbers don’t add up? No, they’re going to ask why you didn’t act sooner. You can't let emotions cloud your judgment. Business is about being ruthless when it needs to be."

Jeeny’s hands were clenched in her lap, her heart beating faster now, her voice rising slightly.

Jeeny:
"But what about the cost of that ruthlessness? If everyone is just a number, if their worth is defined by what they can bring to the table, then what’s left of the person? What happens when the person isn’t just a cog in your machine anymore? What happens when you can’t look someone in the eye and see more than just their job title? We can’t all be numbers and profit margins, Jack. There’s something sacred about treating people like people, not just assets you use and dispose of."

Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. There was a moment of hesitation, but he quickly recovered, his voice steady as ever.

Jack:
"Sure, it’s idealistic to think we can all treat each other with kindness and respect all the time. But that doesn’t change the fact that life isn’t like that. Not in business, and not in the world outside. People use others to get ahead, and when it’s your turn to make those hard decisions, you can’t afford to blink. You think Trevor didn’t know that? He was in the same game as everyone else. And the moment you let sentiment guide your choices is the moment you stop being a leader."

Jeeny’s face softened, the tension beginning to slip away from her features. She looked at him for a long while, her voice quieter, almost like she was trying to reach something inside of him.

Jeeny:
"I understand logic, Jack. But there’s a price to losing your humanity along the way. That’s what disturbs me — not the decision, not the reality of business, but the fact that it becomes easy to treat people like numbers, to push them aside when it’s convenient. You cannot sacrifice empathy and kindness just to get ahead. It takes a toll on your soul. That kind of ruthlessness... it eats at you from the inside."

For a long moment, Jack didn’t answer. The sound of the train grew louder outside, as though the world was pushing him toward something. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice softer now, less certain.

Jack:
"You’re right... I know that. But survival isn’t pretty, Jeeny. It’s brutal. The world doesn’t always reward the ones who care the most. It doesn’t even care if you’re a good person. It just wants results. Sometimes, you have to do the things that make you uncomfortable, things you’ll never feel good about. If you want to succeed, you make the hard calls. And you live with them."

Jeeny’s eyes softened again, but there was still a trace of sadness in her voice when she spoke next.

Jeeny:
"Then what’s the point, Jack? If success means losing who you are in the process, then maybe it’s not worth it. Maybe it’s not about winning. Maybe it’s about remembering that we’re all just trying to make it through the day without breaking each other. Maybe the best leaders are the ones who remember that in the end."

Jack sat in silence, his fingers twitching slightly as if he were about to say something, but then hesitated. The room felt quieter, as though the air between them had thickened with a shared understanding. Jack’s gaze drifted out the window, and for the first time, there was something vulnerable in his eyes.

Host:
The quiet stretched between them, not with the weight of an argument, but with the presence of two different worlds trying to reconcile. The air, once filled with the sounds of their conversation, now hung heavy, like the decision still waiting to be made. Outside, the last light of day slipped into the horizon. And inside, Jack and Jeeny found themselves holding onto something much more elusive than answers — a fragile, shared truth.