Tagged: Work (581)

He says, Look, I hate myself. He says, I’m worthless. He says, I question everything I do. And because the company’s smart, he gets the job.

They tolerated the ennui of their jobs, bought off by promises of spectacular riches sometime in the future. At retirement, they bought guns

He sets his desk on fire. Or at least he tries to. But the desk never lights. You see now how right I was to call you useless, his boss says

The meeting lasted so long he shot the phone and declared The conference call is over and he went to the 7-Eleven and got himself a Big Gulp

They swarmed out of the offices at lunch hour, hunting for food, flirting shamelessly, complaining about the monotony of another dismal day.

He removed all of his clothing and walked to work. He went into his office, and pressed the button on the intercom. I’m the boss! he yelled.

They heard the yell. It was sharp and panic stricken and they ran in its direction. It had been Jones. I was just checking, he said, smugly.

The town’s parks remained muddy through weeks of sunshine. The soggy mess dirtied everyone’s shoes. Until the cobbler was overcome by guilt.