Tagged: Work (581)

He worked for a newspaper as a city reporter so he sat in his cubicle and made up stories about shooting the sun. It seemed more productive.

In the Office of Unfinished Thoughts they say things like “Her legs were so long” and “What?” and “Those guys” and everyone is home by 5:08.

The travel writer with no sense of direction ends up in Estonia but files a story about Morocco anyway. It’s all the same, he says cynically

And then she climbed on the table and crawled over to him and punched him. She broke his nose. Her hand hurt. Meeting adjourned! she yelled.

Jones oversees a lot of people at work. He enjoys the job. What he doesn’t see keeps him sane. Until what he’s not seeing includes his wife.

He put a box next to his inbox. He labelled it “regrets.” Within weeks it threatened to topple over. And that’s when he knew he should quit.

His colleagues could no longer ignore the odor emanating from his office and confronted him. This is where all the dead bodies are, he said.

He’s got this dumb smile and everyone knows he had sex the night before except his wife works in the office too. And she’s not smiling much.