Receiving The Bag- The Malaise of Organizational Release
Deep dark murmurs could be heard in could be heard in the corridors, some would flash glances in his direction. Others would avert their gaze in fearful apprehension. No one likes to get chucked. There were no shortages of vultures as well, ready to sink their teeth into some juicy promotion; most of them were suckers, but some were ready to go that extra serpential step. Sometimes he would return brave understanding smiles in exchange for their 'I emphasize with your situation, but I ain't gonna risk getting friendly with a firee' looks.
Deep dark murmurs could be heard in could be heard in the corridors, some would flash glances in his direction. Others would avert their gaze in fearful apprehension. No one likes to get chucked. There were no shortages of vultures as well, ready to sink their teeth into some juicy promotion; most of them were suckers, but some were ready to go that extra serpential step. Sometimes he would return brave understanding smiles in exchange for their 'I emphasize with your situation, but I ain't gonna risk getting friendly with a firee' looks.
On other occasions he could conceal himself between shadowy office doorways and spend lengthy periods nursing a plastic cup wistfully at the water dispenser or broken copy machine, inanimate objects he would dearly miss.
Then his hands would tensely start forming a fist as he cast his mind back angrily to the moment his ample sized boss directed him his office at a time when he wasn’t expecting a pay rise. And as soon as fatty repeated the all too well known, apologetically patronising sentence 'I am really sorry BUT..', he began pondering a flamboyant exit as his eyes cast themselves upon the more than warmish 'Best dad' mug the cocky cretin in front of him was holding and the interesting effectible physics of its dispersion.
Then his hands would tensely start forming a fist as he cast his mind back angrily to the moment his ample sized boss directed him his office at a time when he wasn’t expecting a pay rise. And as soon as fatty repeated the all too well known, apologetically patronising sentence 'I am really sorry BUT..', he began pondering a flamboyant exit as his eyes cast themselves upon the more than warmish 'Best dad' mug the cocky cretin in front of him was holding and the interesting effectible physics of its dispersion.
But an inevitable eye warning was made accompanied by an 'Is it worth your last pay cheque’ regard, he decided against direct terrorism and resolved to some mental guerrilla warfare. He began by eyeing plumpie's prized handcrafted vase circa 1930s pensively, which brought a sudden fearful look into his eyes, he was ready to play ball with an open net, and suddenly the corpulent domination was on the ropes.
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