His iPhone 7 Plus attempts to wake him at 6:17, but the classic alarm tone is no match for last night’s unscheduled Game of Thrones binge: five hours of fantasy that leave his own dreams envious. Three snoozes later, he’s up and forced to skip his morning rituals. No time for transcendental meditation and 0% Greek yogurt with organic honey and locally-grown walnuts today. Straight from the shower to the closet, from one tight space to the next, naked and wet, the only difference: now, he feels his nakedness. Standing there, shriveled, he notices the cleaners didn’t put enough starch in his shirt; he needs the added back support these days – spineless, you see. But what sends him into a blasphemous rage – his first words of the day – is the stain on his favorite silk noose left there mockingly by last week’s $4 latte that just inflated to a $134 latte… plus taxes. This is clearly God’s fault. He jumps into a cab hoping to make up some lost time. Difficult to ignore the pungent aroma of the cabbie’s exotically spiced dinner leaking through his pores and infused with the lingering scent of last night’s vomit. He can hardly withstand the odoriferous haze and is on the verge of contributing to the scent cloud. But he holds it back as he plows forward. I’ll be god-damned if Stanley gets to the office before me, he thinks loudly. He knows “Stan the Man” has his hungry eyes set on that gleaming corner cage, the one with the windows that overlook the park 33 long stories below. But ambition has no time for pretty parks, just pretty perks. He jets out of the cab before it even comes to a full stop, nearly losing his limb to a bike messenger working for Godspeed Incorporated, and realizes he unintentionally gave the driver a $9 tip when he only meant to give him $1. It’s becoming a rather expensive morning for our hero. In the elevator, his thoughts crescendo to epiphany: I hate my life, but I love my job! As the elevator yawns open, he sees Stanley carrying a box filled with his belongings heading in the direction of the corner office… “Hey buddy, can you give me a hand with the rest of these boxes?”
The 401K Marathon | Christopher Troy ©
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