A Jet Came At My Office Window At Four Hundred Feet And Pulled Up At The Last Second. I Was The Only Man In That Building Who Already Knew Why

I used to inspect aircraft for a living. Then I wrote down something nobody wanted written down, and for two years afterwards I typed claim numbers into a spreadsheet on the eightieth floor of a tower in the financial district, which is where I was sitting on the morning a narrowbody twinjet came across the rooftops at four hundred feet with its nose down and its engines screaming, and pulled up so late that I saw the rivets on its belly. Everyone else in that office heard a noise. I was the only person in the building who already knew what had gone wrong, because I had written it down, and been thanked for it, and been fired for it.