I got an email asking if I wanted to go to lunch.
I wasn’t surprised so much as irritated. I checked to see whether someone had forwarded this to me by mistake. It looked legit: my address was one of a dozen recipients, but it didn’t make sense to me. My coworkers went out to lunch all the time, but they rarely invited Tinies. Sure, Ceci would come storming down the hall and swipe me off my desk, and off we’d go for bagels or any other kind of adventure. Billie and Michael either ate together at their desks or went out on their own. And I don’t know what Nate in ad sales did. Maybe he harbored the same resentment I did, about being snubbed for lunch with coworkers.
They didn’t hide it. They’d all go out as a group, laughing and joking, echoing down the stairwell as they left the office. So much for being a size-equal office, I guess.
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