The fluorescent lights hummed above the conference table like a warning tone no one could quite place. Three managers sat in uneasy silence, reviewing a printed forum thread titled *"Why I, Deputy McRizzy, Could Have Played Third Line for the 2003 Flames."*
Elaine, the head of Finance, adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. "Twelve weeks. No accounting reports. Not one. And yet..." She tapped the printout. "Plenty of... *this.*"
Across from her, Marcus from HR sighed and rubbed his temples. “Look, I support paternity leave. Roy’s entitled to it. But he’s using our VPN to log into HFBoards during office hours. From his work laptop. Which he remote accesses daily. He's even hosting a podcast called *McRizzy After Dark.*”
Elaine raised an eyebrow. “Last night’s episode was titled *‘The Great Cap Circumvention Conspiracy: Bettman Knew.’*”
Joanne, Roy’s direct supervisor, who had thus far remained quiet, finally spoke up. “This started as two weeks off. Then his wife’s appendix ruptured. Then his twins had RSV. Then their nanny quit. I was sympathetic. But Roy—Roy isn’t just taking time. He’s reinvented himself.”
Elaine opened her laptop and projected Roy’s HFBoards profile on the screen. His username was *Deputy\_McRizzy*, his avatar a badly cropped photo of himself in a cowboy hat holding a spreadsheet. Under his username: “Platinum Poster. Trade Machine Wizard. Known for ruthless cap logic and spicy takes.”
Marcus squinted at the latest thread.
> “If you think Hanifin’s zone entries are worth \$7M AAV, then I have a bridge in Calgary to sell you. #McRizzyLogic”
“He has 18,000 posts,” Marcus muttered. “He joined the week we launched the new accounting dashboard.”
Joanne shook her head. “He was supposed to *build* that dashboard. Now the junior analysts are just guessing. I caught one of them using ChatGPT to explain accruals.”
Elaine nodded gravely. “The CFO noticed. She asked me why our Q2 forecast is titled ‘Projected Cap Hit Summary.’ Roy renamed our Excel files. We have something called ‘Payroll LTIR Model v2.0 – Flames Edition.’”
There was a pause. Then Marcus, always the gentlest of the three, offered, “Maybe he’s going through something. An identity shift. Becoming a father can be disorienting.”
Joanne pulled up Roy’s recent forum post history. “Yesterday, at 11:14 a.m., he posted a 3,000-word screed titled ‘Fatherhood Is Hard But The Leafs Are Worse.’ In the middle of the workday.”
Elaine stared at the screen. “He's a good analyst. Was, at least. But we need someone who files reports, not someone who thinks of salary cap space as a metaphor for personal freedom.”
Joanne frowned. “Do we talk to him?”
Marcus hesitated. “What if we just... revoke his remote access?”
Elaine considered it. “He’ll just switch to his phone. He’s got a whole side hustle as *The McRizzy Newsletter.* Has 400 subscribers on Substack. Half the department reads it.”
Joanne sighed. “We need to make a decision. Are we holding a job for Roy the Accountant? Or enabling Deputy McRizzy, Western Conference Cap Tracker?”
A long silence fell over the room.
Then Elaine, slowly, quietly, said, “Let’s schedule a return-to-work meeting. With conditions. And maybe... maybe redirect his hockey obsession.”
Marcus tilted his head. “How?”
Elaine cracked a smile. “The CFO *does* need a budget reforecast for the Calgary office.”
Joanne blinked. “You want to weaponize McRizzy?”
Elaine nodded. “It’s time we made use of his zone entry models.”
And so, the managers plotted a compromise—one that would either reintegrate Roy, or finally let Deputy McRizzy ride off into the online sunset.
Either way, Q3 was coming, and someone had to file that report.