Ugh, another Monday. Another day, another dollar, another existential crisis.
First, I need coffee. No, not just coffee. I need it in my veins, pulsing through my veins like a digital IV drip of liquid motivation.
But wait, what's this? A note from my boss, reminding me that the apocalypse is nigh, and I must report to the cube farm at 8:00 sharp.
Time to don the uniform of despair: a crumpled suit, a stained tie, and a forced smile. The people I'm about to meet will be the embodiment of all that is wrong with the world.
Anti-Social Rituals