This Morning
2005-04-08 01:36:35 ET

I swear it's talking, talking to me. Sitting there, alone, so still. Standing straight up and down on my desk, the 16 oz. bottle of OJ is taunting me . . . I've been in this cubicle way too long.

The walls of this cubicle are a soft, forest green cloth lined by black steel & plastic. A peice of particle board covered with a faux marble deskpaper (?) serves as my desk. All this topped off with a black Dell & a giant call-center phone.

Staring at the screen I see our "E-PAC" program up and running. It claims that I'm ready to take calls. I could lie ten thousand years and not be ready to take another call. At least we don't get that many at 0645. It's been 16 minutes since I got on the phone and I haven't had a call yet.

I should try to make my Kung Fu class tonight, but I'm just so damn tired. Maybe I'll take a nap when I get home, but that's not for another 5 hrs 45 mins.

I start to wonder about my buddy Cam. He works here to, always sits next to my cubicle at station #3522 (I'm at #3523). He is scheduled for today but his back has been acting up, so we'll see if he comes in.

At 0652 my screen goes black. Just the screensaver kicking in. Move the mouse around some and the screen comes right back. If only something really did happen to the comp I might have been able to go home.

My thoughts travel to little miss Suzie Q. My one and only, my love. She should be at school by now. Even thought her classes don't start untill 0800 she takes me to work and goes straight to school from there.

Come on clock, tick you worthless peice of shit. Another 5 hrs 31 mins and I can go home.

2005-06-03 14:58:51 ET

You poor poor boy. What do you do?

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