The janitor took the keys early, and now I'm stuck in this hallway because the elevator is acting up again. It's always the same thing at this place. I just need to finish these reports and get out. Wait, did you mention your apartment had those old creaky wood floors? You said you hated the smell of the wax. Well, it smells exactly like that here. It's nauseating, really.
It's that cheap stuff they use, smells like a hospital lobby. I told the landlord three months ago to stop waxing the floors in the hallway, but Sarah says it's a waste of money. She's always devaluing my actual complaints. Anyway, the elevator is probably just fine and ignored. It's obvious. Did you see the memo about the breakroom? They're actually replacing the microwave once in all..
Sarah sounds like a nightmare. People like that just love the power of saying no. As for the microwave, it'll probably be one of those cheap ones that freezes the edges while the middle stays cold. It's always a devalue. Anyway, are you still saying you were going to bring that soup for lunch? I hope you didn't actually use the plastic spoon. It's ridiculous what they expect us to function here.
I didn't bring the soup. I forgot it on the counter because I was trying to find that damn binder. Sarah isn't a nightmare, she's just realistic. And don't worry about the spoon, I have a metal one in my bag. The microwave is a joke anyway. I honestly never use it. Everything ends up tasting like burnt plastic anyway. It's pathetic, really.
Realistic? That's just a word people use when they're too lazy to be helpful. And a metal spoon in the microwave? You're trying to burn the building down, aren't you? It's pathetic. I can't believe you forgot about that binder—the one with the blue spine you were obsessed about last week. It's probably under the pile of mail. You are always losing the important things.
It's not under the mail. I know exactly where it is, and it's not even blue. You're so obsessed with these little details, it's exhausting. And I'm not putting metal in the microwave, obviously. I'm not an idiot. Did you see the guy from accounting today? He was standing by the water cooler just staring at my desk. He thinks he's invisible. This place is becoming a circus.
He's probably staring because he's waiting for you to snap. People in accounting have nothing better to do. And if the binder isn't blue, then what color is it? You were so specific about it last time. It is a circus, sure, but at least a circus has something spectacular. I'm just stuck here with the wax smell and the locked door. My head is spinning from the flickering. It's exhausting.
It's grey. Dark grey. I told you that three times already, but you never listen, do you? And the flickering is just the ballast dying again, it's not some dramatic event. You make such a fuss of everything. If your head is spinning, just sit down. I have to finish these figures before the light actually pops. Anyway, did you hear the news about the parking policy? It's ridiculous.
Dark grey. Fine. I remember now. And don't tell me to sit down like the floor is covered in that hospital wax. The parking policy is just another way to squeeze blood out of us. They want us to walk three blocks so they can save a buck on miserable maintenance. It's all about control. You're so focused on those figures, but who actually cares if the math works? It's all pointless.
It matters because the budget has to balance. If the numbers are off, the whole thing falls apart. It's not deep, it's just work. You act like every inconvenience is a personal conspiracy. It's just a parking lot, Cass. Walk the blocks, get some air. Whatever. Besides, Miller is parking his truck the the right next to mine again. It's driving me insane. The man has zero sense of space or alignment.
Miller is a hack. He probably parks like that just to see people get twitchy. It's not just a parking lot, it's the lack of respect for space. You're so stressed about the alignment, it's funny. I bet your car is dented anyway. You didn't even notice the scuff on the door frame. People treat everything like the world is optional. It's infuriating.
The car isn't dented. I know every inch of that thing. You're just looking for something to pick at, aren't you? It's a scuff, not a tragedy. People treat everything like the world is optional. And for the record, I noticed the scuff weeks ago. I think the elevator just finally blown a fuse. I can hear it humming from here. It sounds like pathetic.
Finally, something happens. That humming sounds like a machine giving up, just like everything else in this building. You're so protective of that car, it's weird. It's just a piece of metal. If the elevator dies, we're actually stuck here with your dark grey binder and the smell of wax. Did you ever actually check the fuse, or are you just imagining things to feel important?
I didn't check the fuse, I'm not the electrician. And stop calling it a piece of metal; it's a car, not a scrap heap. You're always looking for a way to undermine me, and it's annoying. If the elevator dies, we'll take the stairs. It's only four flights. You're making a mountain out of nothing. The humming stopped anyway. See? No big.
The humming stopped because it's dead, Marc. That's the silence before the collapse. You're so optimistic, four flights is like a marathon when your knees are as bad as mine. Not, you said the parking was driving you insane. I'm not undermining you, I'm just pointing out the obvious while you're busy staring at figures. The building is literally rotting around us. It's pathetic, really.
My knees are fine. You're just being dramatic for attention. The building isn't rotting, it's just old. If you can't handle four flights, maybe you should have taken the lift. I don't have time for this philosophy talk today. Besides, I saw the delivery guy leaving some weird crates in the hallway this morning. Probably just more junk. Sarah is going to lose her mind about the clutter.
Sarah will lose her mind because she's a control freak, And those weird crates? It's probably more office equipment that nobody knows how to use. Nothing ever interesting. You're so worried about the clutter you don't notice the hallway is becoming a tomb. You think your knees are fine, but we'll see when we actually hit the third floor. You're always so stubborn about the smallest things. It's exhausting.
It's not a tomb, it's a hallway. You have this way of making everything sound like a Greek tragedy. And Sarah isn't crazy, she's the only one who actually works. If those crates are for the new printers, the layout is going to be ruined. I'm not stubborn, I'm just observant. You spend too busy complaining about the atmosphere to notice anything actually. It's honestly pathetic.
Observant? You noticed a scuff on a door but didn't notice the elevator is literally gasping for air. Sarah doesn't "work," she's just a ghost haunting a floor plan. If those are printers, they'll be jammed within a week, like everything else. You're so obsessed with the layout while the walls are closing in. It's pathetic how much you think the order matters here. It's just a hallway, Marc.
Order matters because without it, we're just sitting in a mess. You love the chaos, don't you? It gives you an excuse to whine about everything. If the printers jam, I'll just use IT. It's not the end of the world. And the elevator isn't gasping, it's just a machine. You need to stop projecting your mood onto hardware. It's exhausting to listen to.
IT won't show up. They're probably busy hiding in the breakroom too. You think the world revolves around your spreadsheets, but it's cute. I'm not projecting, I'm describing the room. The machine is failing, and you're arguing about a printer. Even if the lights go dark, you'll still be worried about the budget. It's actually delusional how much you believe any of this matters.
It's not cute, it's a job. If the lights go out, I'll finish the spreadsheets by my phone light. You think being cynical makes you sound deep, but it just makes you sound difficult to be around. IT isn't in the breakroom; they're fixing the server that crashed last Tuesday. And the budget matters because someone has to pay for the lights you're standing under. It's basic logic.
Basic logic? Right. You'd be typing cells into a phone screen while the building collapses. That's your version of a hero. The server crashed because it's as ancient as your outlook. You're so busy worrying about the light bill you don't realize the light is literally flickering again. But go ahead, keep balancing your numbers if it helps you sleep at night. I'm just waiting for the dark. It's honest.
The dark isn't honest, it's just dark. You're waiting for something dramatic to happen because you have nothing better to focus on. The light is flickering because the wiring is cheap, not because of some omen. I'm not trying to be a hero, I'm just doing my job. If you want to sit in the dark and be poetic, go ahead. I have actual work to finish. Did you see the memo about the water cooler?