For Feelings To Dissapear.

 

Fear based paranoia was gripping the workplace as I stepped inside my pod-office. The Asian was Pintersting, but there was nothing new in that. An email had been sent. The implications of which were still unclear, some hadn't even read it, but were enraged all the same. Tempers were frayed, confusion abounded. There was frisson in the air and explanations to be had.

I managed to get my shit unloaded and situated in my workspace as to give me a good position to absorb the dilemma. The frozen enchiladas were already placed safely in the freezer. Success, My Lord. It won't be enough, however, I immediately realize and I'm already looking forward to Bi Bim Bap or even better Chipotle.

I don't bother to check my inbox. I want the dirty, defensive. self-absolving summaries. After I had heard the tale from all sides someone asked me what I was going to do about it. I said I hadn't obviously fucked up that badly for it to even matter. Sorry if they had, and all that. The sensation of self-gratifying relish spilling across my face must have bordered on the obscene. I quickly excused myself to the break room wherein I was able to forage a crossword from the LA Times.

The LA Times crossword... No one seems to really understand the extent to which I suffer.