There is a sign on the door in front of me that says 'Tiny Shit-Head'. I have been standing outside the door for around five minutes. It is in a part of the building that I have never been to before. I had to walk down a lot of very steep steps to get here.
I have Mildred in my top pocket so that she can see clearly where I am and what is going on. I feel a vibration in my pocket. It is not my mobile phone. My mobile phone was confiscated when I arrived at work this morning so that my attentions are not even slightly distracted from the work that I have to do in my new role. My boss gave me a pager to replace my phone in case he needs to get in touch with me. He needs to get in touch with me.
WHY HAVEN'T YOU LOGGED IN YET?
The pager is small and is held together with duct tape. It is sticky because the corners of the duct tape have folded over and the glue has been smeared over the rest of the pager. The pager looks quite old. It has dust or sand stuck to it.
I have started to sweat out of all of my pores. I can feel it in the folds of my body and seeping into my very well ironed shirt. I think that it is time to take the plunge and walk into my future.
I press my hand against the surface of the door and feel it very grainy against my skin. It would be easy to get a splinter from this door. The lacquer is peeling away revealing ground and broken and eroded wood beneath. Shattered wood beneath pummelled lacquer.
The door opens with a series of strained groans and I am looking at a very dark space. Taking a step inside is difficult but I manage and I move my hand around the wall to find the light switch. I find the light switch and flip it. For a few seconds nothing happens. A humming buzz of light begins to come from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling of the room. The light slowly grows in intensity until I can make out the major features of the room. An MDF desk, chipboard walls and a concrete floor. It doesn't feel like the right environment for shirt, tie, shoes, jacket. It doesn't feel like the right environment for anything. There is a very old computer that is the colour of a plastic that isn't produced any more.
Hanging from the ceiling is a plastic tube. The tube ends at head height.
There are no windows anywhere in the room. There are no shelves and no decorations.
My boss pages me.
LOG IN RIGHT NOW OR I WILL FIRE YOU.
I sit down in the chair in front of the computer. It is damp. It has a cushioned fabric seat. It is not the seat of a businessman. I press the power button for the computer. I hear a series of whirring noises and some electrical movements. I am finding it hard to be my normal self in this space.
I feel something happen. Something strange is happening. I cannot move my arms. I look at my arms. They are held in place by rusted and pitted metal hoops. There is no way that I can move my hands or arms at all.
I can not remember what is happening to me.
I have Mildred in my top pocket so that she can see clearly where I am and what is going on. I feel a vibration in my pocket. It is not my mobile phone. My mobile phone was confiscated when I arrived at work this morning so that my attentions are not even slightly distracted from the work that I have to do in my new role. My boss gave me a pager to replace my phone in case he needs to get in touch with me. He needs to get in touch with me.
WHY HAVEN'T YOU LOGGED IN YET?
The pager is small and is held together with duct tape. It is sticky because the corners of the duct tape have folded over and the glue has been smeared over the rest of the pager. The pager looks quite old. It has dust or sand stuck to it.
I have started to sweat out of all of my pores. I can feel it in the folds of my body and seeping into my very well ironed shirt. I think that it is time to take the plunge and walk into my future.
I press my hand against the surface of the door and feel it very grainy against my skin. It would be easy to get a splinter from this door. The lacquer is peeling away revealing ground and broken and eroded wood beneath. Shattered wood beneath pummelled lacquer.
The door opens with a series of strained groans and I am looking at a very dark space. Taking a step inside is difficult but I manage and I move my hand around the wall to find the light switch. I find the light switch and flip it. For a few seconds nothing happens. A humming buzz of light begins to come from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling of the room. The light slowly grows in intensity until I can make out the major features of the room. An MDF desk, chipboard walls and a concrete floor. It doesn't feel like the right environment for shirt, tie, shoes, jacket. It doesn't feel like the right environment for anything. There is a very old computer that is the colour of a plastic that isn't produced any more.
Hanging from the ceiling is a plastic tube. The tube ends at head height.
There are no windows anywhere in the room. There are no shelves and no decorations.
My boss pages me.
LOG IN RIGHT NOW OR I WILL FIRE YOU.
I sit down in the chair in front of the computer. It is damp. It has a cushioned fabric seat. It is not the seat of a businessman. I press the power button for the computer. I hear a series of whirring noises and some electrical movements. I am finding it hard to be my normal self in this space.
I feel something happen. Something strange is happening. I cannot move my arms. I look at my arms. They are held in place by rusted and pitted metal hoops. There is no way that I can move my hands or arms at all.
I can not remember what is happening to me.