So I’m minding my own business on a Monday, like I like to do. I just like to play it cool and slip into my new ergonomic setup, sipping a couple drops of coffee while watching my workstation slowly ignite into being. Not hungover or anything, just easing into the week because, well, it’s a new week and another week closer to death. I’m not in a hurry, I want to enjoy these quiet moments while they happen, because they rarely do.
And this isn’t one of them, apparently. While I’m counting all the people calling in sick in my Inbox, the hallway darkens with a stocky Midwestern silhouette. “I’m sorry to bother you,” says Fannie, lying right out of the gate. I’m relieved that my microaggressions are nearly imperceptible to most Normies, allowing me to sigh and roll my eyes with impunity.
“Not a bother at all, Fannie, please come in. What’s the problem?”
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