The Waiting Game

"Why did I even come into work today?" I wondered after sitting at my desk for an hour... my desk that is currently devoid of agreements to locate. The old chickenheads known as "the reviewers" have spent so much time squawking amongst themselves this morning that they seem to have forgotten that we are dependent on them to keep our hands from staying idle. Perhaps this is what they want? If we appear to be sitting around twiddling our thumbs all day then surely we will end up doing something stupid out of boredom which they could later report to their Overlords.

Yesterday was so uneventful that I wasn't able to come up with any fodder for my daily narrative, and today is shaping to be even slower with a total lack of productivity. I can't possibly imagine that I'll manage to keep my mind engaged for another seven hours with only the aide of the weblog and a few crossword puzzles. I have no desire to return to the fringe of the information super highway, as I have already witnessed the desolation and horror that exists when one wades out past the civilized areas of the internet and beyond all of the porno and myspace garbage.

I fear for my job security when all that's left to do is to peg Chicken Little in the back of the head with a projectile shot from my trusty rubber band. Perhaps that is another strategy employed by "the reviewers." If we have nothing else to do, maybe a rift will form amongst our ranks, causing us to crumble from within in the midst of civil warfare. Cartographers fighting cartographers in a war that could possibly destroy all of mankind, or at the very least leave a few little red marks on each other where we have make direct hits with rubber fingertip bullets.

Further adding to our discomfort and irritability, it is hotter than a nutsac in a sauna in this place. This might just be the day that finally breaks us. If I never get the chance to say it again, "I have loved and honored your friendship, Airlite 9ers."