chapter one

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Technically, this isn’t part of my job description. Now don’t get me

wrong; I’m all for the whole ‘woe is me,’ gig. I have stickers. I

diagnose it every day. I know what mental health is, and I know what

depressed is. I can also diagnose attention seeking and just plain

nuts. The thing is, when you’re a hundred times overqualified for your

job, things become significantly less cool. To be honest, I don’t even

know why I’m sitting here. Being a desk monkey pays well, sure, but

when all the fun’s sucked out of it by the fact that you’re only here

until the next thing comes along (and because damn it, you need some

money because otherwise your landlord’ll go hungry –and kick you out,

as well), then it’s boring. Aaalmost as boring as the man sitting in

front of me.

Seriously. He’s 23, balding, and I’d put money on the fact that those

pants haven’t ever been unzipped with anything other than precise

Methodism. At the moment he’s talking about something to do with his

girlfriend (yeah, okay, left hand) and the fact that she’s not meeting

his eyes anymore. Oh shit, I’m supposed to be meeting his eyes as

well. Okay, doing it. I’m on the game now. His lower lip’s really

chapped, his neck’s that red sort of tone that’s all splotchy and

makes you think of sweat and stuttering, and he’s been going for 20

minutes now without any sign of stopping. I guess he pays me for it,

but I can’t see how I’m helping. Maybe my nodding and spaced out

“Mm,”s are enough to see him through whatever the storm it is that

he’s facing. If that’s the case, good for him. I think that losing the

tie and the hair gel might help a little more. Then again, this is

supposed to be a look into his head. I’m supposed to be deciding

whether he can join the ranks of the cubicle dwellers here. I’m pretty

sure I’m also supposed to be providing ways for him to ‘fix,’ himself,

but I’m not 100%.

I think that if I was my boss, I’d fire me. I’m kind of glad I’m not

my boss though, because he’s 56 and always has these sweat stains. One

of his legs is shorter than the other or something, I don’t know, and

he has this onions smell about him that he just can’t shake, the poor

bastard. He doesn’t really do much, that I can see, but from what I’ve

heard he’s had the position for 15 years. If I were my boss I’d also

look into getting a new secretary because – I look through the glass

of my toilet cubicle of an office – yep, she’s always on the phone to

her friends. She does know that this stuff gets recorded in the

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 19, 2014 ⏰

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