novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- flatliners The Temp keeps re-recording his outgoing voicemail message. People keep interrupting or talking over him, or he stutters. He wears khaki pants with fraying hemlines every day. He is constantly raiding the receptionist's candy jar and the break room.
Hi, you've reached [Temp] -- I've never seen him open his eyes past half mast. He rarely makes eye contact. His hair is prematurely gray. His jokes are not funny. Working in an office is so impersonal, so rote. You can't weather your personality sanding itself down unless you are invested in a career you love. Hi, you've reached -- You will melt into something murky underneath your collared shirts and paperwork unless you are defined by love. 1:18 pm - 03.24.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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