The cool kids at work, a guy and girl, are six feet tall and wander in each morning (shooting finger guns), like a couple of gunslingers who don’t care if the sheriff is in or not. They’re high on espresso and ambition, while I’m akin to Phil Connors in Groundhog Day.
In my experience, offices are psychotic and allies can slowly turn on you – like the fireplace in Indiana Jones, where suddenly you find yourself staring at a bunch of Nazis.
Such is the case with these charlies, who were hellbent on recruiting me from the beginning; but have since become nervous by how much dirt I have on them. Now they eye me like a pair of dirty cops … scared I’ll turn them in to Internal Affairs.
It’s just a matter of time before I take two in the back of the head.