Post-It

At lunch today I sat outside and let the sun cook my back through my suit for a while. It was really nice. A lot of people sit alone here. One man held a pack of cigarettes and a cell phone in front of him as if he had to make some crucial choice between the two. He either wasn’t very coordinated, or he was thinking about something serious. Cell phones are the new cigarettes after all. They are addictive, they’ve been accused of causing cancer, they are a hazard while driving, and people use them to socialize and satisfy an oral fixation. Regardless, he looked distressed. A lot of people look distressed here. In fact, they look defeated. I can’t let that happen to me. I hate when people say things like “Gotta do whatcha’ gotta do” or, “Welcome to the real world” or, “ That’s life” when I express a grievance with daily monotony. We don’t HAVE to put up with these things. We’ve allowed them to happen because we are a passive, fearful bunch. Anyway, I gotta get back to filling the staplers and counting the post-its …