You’re slumped over at your mercilessly cramped office desk, a mug of lukewarm coffee seemingly glued to your non-mousing hand. The woman in the cubicle alongside yours is STILL nattering away on her mobile phone, forcing out each syllable with the subtlety of a gossip-filled hand grenade.
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You tightly close your eyes and attempt to bargain with the gods of time. “Free me from this air-conditioned hell,” you whimper. Please, just let it be 5pm, and you swear, you’ll never steal a strawberry flavoured yoghurt from the office fridge again.
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