Suddenly, amidst the smoke and flames and screams and clamor of yet another ruined skyscraper, he realizes that the job is no longer fulfilling.
It’s time to follow his bliss.
He leaves right away, skyscraper half-demolished.
Makes his way to Big Sur.
Lives in a small (relatively speaking, of course) cabin in the hills.
Wanders the beaches after high tide.
Before long his driftwood sculptures of kittens are selling at the better gift shops in the region.
And the third anger management class seems to be helping.
Don’t ask about the first two.