I'm just grateful to have a job
I sat down and pulled my laptop from my bag and set it on the dock. I put my iced coffee on my desk, grateful that I didn't have a coaster. This office didn't deserve my respect. I typed in my password, hit enter, and watched as the circle of dots spun at varying speeds. "Could I see you in my office?" asked Diane, my manager, standing uncomfortably close to me at the cubicle entrance. "Of course," I said with the best smile I could produce. I sat down opposite her after sliding the glass door of her office suite closed behind me. She definitely wasn't afraid of eye contact, and she also wasn't afraid of looking pissed off. I met her gaze as best I could, already figuring what this was about. I felt my whole body heat up with microwave speed. "You weren't working by 8 am," she said. She folded her hands together in front of her on the desk. I held onto the wooden chair rails like they were keeping me from falling. "I was at my ...