JOURNAL OF A WORKING BOY #1

Dear Faithful Reader:

Since this will be the first in a series of existing exploits we must begin with introductions. Below contains a list of my coworkers extraordinar.

Boss Man: My immediate overlord the Boss Man wields an iron fist of authority. Unblinking in his swift judgments, yours truly risks death and unemployment at the hands of this tyrannical fascist. He openly quotes Ayn Rand while putting out half smoked cigars on my polyester ties and steals my lunch when I fill my water cup. He's a good man and loves his family.

Bridge Troll: With only a foam cubicle wall separating me from this chatterbox, things can get a bit ugly. With a masters degree in Ancient Languages this medieval nuisance blabbers on about etymology well beyond the realms decency and taste. His comments and tyrads can be easily met with a exclamation of "Right On!" This makes him feel good about himself and his terribly miserable sexually ambigious existence.

The Italian: Recently married, she is a solid worker. She makes very few appearance because unlike the rest of us she has work to do.

South of the Border: She is the secretary and local frat girl. While over 40 years of age she takes her time and embarrasses the rest of us with her weekend exploits on both water and land.

The Interns: These sultry vixens of the freshman and sophomore year of college, flaunt their promising futures and calculated career moves by constantly showing those of us with name plates attached to our walls that children can actually do our jobs.

The Snickers Bar: Perhaps my greatest enemy and friend. Downtown prices make this sweet indulgence quite the expensive little fix. I have been known to eat upwards of 2 a day. I eat because I'm sad and I'm sad because I hate my job.