With the option of failing based on performance never to be a reality, the chances of ending back with noon specific wake up times rests on the shoulders of friends. In particular, those that are able to help make an hour long lunch break stretch out into two and a half hours. Coupled with the presence and audacity of returning to the office with a stack of, at least to the casual eye, a day's worth of shopping at record and comicbook stores, things become that much jittery and the rest of the week is left in question.
Doubts rise to the fore and have a hard time to fall. Can there really be that much time to allow for campaigning webzines in the forest lost of message boards and forums? No, but nobody is really taking stock of the time burnt in that regard.
And here they have what should be an end of year shuffle. Cubicle inhabitants move from one end of their line to a corner, flanks swap, the rotation is mirrored and everybody settles two hours later to find themselves at their new location, orientation jarred.
Found a heavy mudcake on the eighth floor. Removed a slice to eat on the seventh. The occasion is unknown.
Saturday, 4 December 2004 - 15:33
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