I sat down between the head of human resources and my boss. They looked woeful. “Hey, guys, how are you doing?” I liked these men: they seemed to have held on to a ribbon of their humanity as much of their job became to kill papers and fire people. Although my guys, we’ll call them Thompson and Thomson, didn’t use words like fire. R. W. Holder’s Dictionary of Euphemisms (later renamed How Not to Say What You Mean) holds up, thirty years later, as a funny and astute guide to the language of “evasion, hypocrisy, prudery and deceit.” Let go, laid off, made redundant, discontinued, relieved of duties, released, downsized, lateralized, streamlined, managed out, dismissed, negotiated departure. This firing of mine was part of a “restructuring measure to improve overall efficiencies and help fund our transformation.” There was a large envelope on the table. There always was. “It’s nothing personal.” This was Thomson, who reminded me of Hilary Mantel’s Cromwell: someone who was interesting to know even as he chopped your head off. It felt pretty personal to me as my head bounced off the round table.