Notes on Nothing 16.0: Morning Gets Broken

I get to the office before most of the co-workers. The atmosphere exudes an almost peacefulness. Especially on these rare sunburst mornings. Driving to work, we saw the rays pierce the cloud cover like a golden tripod. Soon the overcast was over.

The hum of the fluorescent lights and the whirr of the hard drives persist, but there is a clip of silence soon to be spliced with inane chatter once 8:30 rolls around.

Ten years ago I joined the retail advertising staff at the paper (or rather, papers -- we're a "media group").

Ten years has obversely built up and destroyed my tolerance for coworkers. Outside of work, my frustration instantly dissipates, as if Work is Wonka's dark tunnel (my soul as "Le Wonkatania") where "the rowers keep on rowing" until 4:00 when the clock yells "Stop!"

I don't want to call the thing that disturbs me "stupidity", but rather an inability to commit to even the edge of logic.

To be asked about the sun by the shadow or asked about the shadow by the sun are queries I endeavor to entertain.

But, no, I get this:

Me: Is this ad running in color or black & white -- you didn't mark the insertion order.


Sales Rep: Uh, I don't know...is it?

I'm out!