2002-09-24 - 8:50 a.m.
The office is deserted. Itís 8:30 and there is no one here.
I feel like the Omega Man, fighting off cannibalistic mutants. Well, they are just factory workers, but still. I just imagine that there is poor production design. Or maybe one of those Left Behind movies that are so popular in the middle of the country. At any moment, I expect that Kurt Cameron will come bursting in here looking for some clues.
There must be a sales meeting or something. I work for operations now, so Iím pretty out of the loop. Bastards. Itís so quiet. Maybe Iíll dance around like in the Bjork song, knocking things over and generally acting all gay. That will get people in here. Just in time to see me do something incredibly embarrassing.
I just went and fiddled with the air conditioning. I set it to 68. Weetabix doesnít like my old boss. She actually loathes the woman. We are making her fat. Itís childish, I understand that. But itís also kind of fun. I hid chocolates around her cube.
Itís 8:45 and still the office is a deserted wasteland. The quiet is getting to me. Once it gets light outside, itís no longer cool to be here alone. Being the first one here in the morning is something that I like. Turning on the lights, making the first pot of coffee, not feeling guilty about answering my personal mail and such. Greeting people as they arrive, idle chitchat. Itís nice. Now Iím just getting paranoid, like did I forget a meeting? Is it a holiday that Iíve forgotten. Do I need to be somewhere else? Iíve obsessively checked my calendar, along with the calendars for the conference rooms. Iím going to start calling people in a minute. The phones are not even ringing.
I think Iíll go upstairs to OF and pretend I have complaints.
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