My office had always been an utterly boring place to work, it’s true. I remembered it from the very first day I rode up that elevator, all pepped up and full of youthful vigour.
Naïve idiot, I couldn’t help but think.
But it did seem like it was getting worse as the time went by. The black hole that my downtown office building orbited that made the seconds tick by so quickly had only grown stronger, sucking away at the fountain of my youth until just this dried out husk remained – propped up in front of a spreadsheet, supported by a too-cheap lumbar pillow.
I glanced over at the clock once more, inadvisably stuck onto a new office partition wall, and literally watched it tick back by a minute.
Someone had better fix that, I thought, darkly, before I see if tossing it down the elevator shaft has any effect.
My boss appeared at the door to my cubicle, as if by demonic summon, and I thanked whatever gods I had left that I’d perfected the art of zoning out whilst looking like you’re concentrating.
He made small, meaningless chit-chat with me about the weather (cloudy) and baseball (boring), all made slightly duller by the echo-muffling magic of the acoustic ceiling. Melbourne was always so loud when I left to go home.
‘I want you to show my nephew around,’ he told me. ‘He’ll be coming to work with us, for a time, and he needs someone experienced to show him the ropes.’
‘Me?’ I couldn’t help but frown.
‘Of course!’ my boss laughed, teeth glinting in a way that can only be described as sociopathic. ‘Who else is up to the task?’
I glanced around at the office full of people who were definitely up to the task.
‘Excellent,’ my boss nodded, teeth still hideously exposed. ‘I’ll send him to your desk later this morning.’
And he left, leaving me to ponder just why I was being singled out for the excruciating punishment of talking to a new worker who still had access to his soul.