“Calm down,” Shaun said. “Harvey gives the same damn speech every quarter.”

His words didn’t calm Aaron’s shakes. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Look, I’ll do a play by play if it’ll make you feel better. First he’ll tell us we’re the greatest thing since Jesus invented sliced bread.”

Harvey climbed up on one of the meeting room tables, using it as an impromptu stage even as it wobbled dangerously. “First, let me say I’m honored–privileged, really–to have such a solid sales team behind me,” he said.

“Then we’ll hear how we stink like a Manhattan dump on a hot July morning,” Shaun muttered.

“But our solidarity is meaningless if we don’t deliver results,” Harvey continued, pumping his fist in the air as if he’d scored some kind of touchdown. “I look at our numbers from the last fiscal year, and there’s a little disappointment there.”

“There’ll be a touch of a challenge next,” Shaun whispered. He paused, thoughtfully adding: “Maybe a little us-versus-them.”

“Rutherford’s team has exceeded their last quarterly profits for five quarters running. Are we going to let those pansies on the 57th floor take our lunch money?” Weak cries of “No!” issued from the assembled sales staff.

“Then the inane comparison to selling retail products and war,” said Shaun, “full of reminders that the closest he ever came to military service was owning a G. I. Joe.”

“All great battlefield commanders lead their armies personally, so I will be in the trenches along with you the entire way!”