Alarm clock 1: ignored.
Alarm clock 2: ignored.
Emergency, last-minute, plan C, alarm clock 3: ignored – because I can probably get ready in 5 minutes if I really really rush, and they won’t do anything if I’m only a couple minutes late, and the subways are unpredictable so they could have made me late… and you know what – go ahead and fire me.
Sunglasses on the subway platform protect from harmful radiating decay.
Gonna take sunglasses off now, because I feel weird. And I don’t need to stand out any more than I already do on this Jacob’s Ladder, opposite-commute to hell.
Off train, I take a path less traveled to the mouth of the behemoth, avoiding hecklers. But I still have to wade through a large group of delinquent students chilling outside a bodega.
That skinny kid with the cigarette – last year his mom said, as tears dripped from her chin and her son wiped snot from her face, that she was gonna take him back to their country if he didn’t fly straight. I wonder how long I’m gonna wait before I give her the call. They never take ’em back anyway.
That giant zombie on the tiny bike – he hasn’t been inside the building one time in four weeks of school. I was hoping he had transferred.
Open the office door – I should be in my bathrobe sitting down to a plate of eggs right about now, and I look it.
Scamper towards my desk, but I’m cut off by two teenage girls waiting for a dean.
“I have a problem!” One of them says.
“Hold on. Let me take my jacket off,” I grumble. First words of the day.
Jacket off. Sit at my desk. Beckon the clients. No breakfast. Deep breath. “What’s the problem?”
“My baby’s daddy said he’s gonna kill me. I have a restraining order. What are you going to do about it?”