Working on it

I have eighteen minutes left in my window of freedom. The one hour glimpse of sunlight each day where they open the internet firewall like the gates of Mordor. Scratch that. Eight. Today is Friday so we all 'voluntarily' traipse around in these god-awful 'desert beige' sweaters. They somehow got selected by our Ricky Gervaise-esque office committee. It looks like someone on a strict oatmeal diet just vomited on my torso. (I picked a sweater vest. Just to make it look worse.)

Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock. Five minutes. I use every ounce of my resourcefulness to get though each painstakingly boring day here. We have no customers. And I don't mean very few when i say no, I mean like stranded in the Gobi desert in the hot midday sun with nothing but dunes surrounding you and then you see something in the distance, something that could be... is it? It cant be! It's a person! Then you get super excited and giddy at the prospect as you scramble over dunes in the hot sand, only to find out the 'person' is the skeleton of a dead camel. You're screwed. That's how slow it is here.