Ok, that was uncalled for. Really. I apologize. You're my reader. I have a book! I have parents who love me. A few loose friends. A job. I know I am a privileged white male. But you picked up this book. You accepted my indulgences and forked over money for it. So ha!
I'm not perfect. Nobody is. At the end of the day, I have problems and issues, just like Bill Gates does, and just like the scantily dressed person at the Nascar race rapidly gaining a first degree burn from the sunlight, as they sip on a watery tasting, cheap American beer.
So, here I am. Sitting in an office, having a boss trying to give me a job I don't want. Sure, more money would be nice. But I already hate my current job, and stepping up to more of it would be worse. Fight or flight time. Clock coming down to the buzzer. Responses coalescing in my head.
"I'll think about it. And I appreciate the offer. I'll get back to you at the end of the week."
What kind of Satanic influence made that come out of my mouth?
"Thanks. Let me know," she replied, a faint smile forming on her face. I am too absolve her of her stresses, take them on myself, and likely make about half as much money as she does. Fun times.
I guess I have some more explaining to do.