He fumbles his keys. The door to his office looked the same as the door to the stairwell and they were all surrounded by a dozen other keys he can't remember what they go to. The lock finally clunks. Bag hits the floor with a thud. He hopes he didn't break anything in it. He pops in a k-cup. He struggles to open the Excedrin bottle. Coffee is almost ready. He smashes the spacebar on his mechanical keyboard repeatedly. His computer wakes up. It warns him that his password will expire in seven days. He logs in. Forty-five new emails. Everyone asking him for shit that isn't his job. He flags the ones that would take longer than a minute to forward. He downs the Excedrin with his coffee. It's too hot. Now his face is wet and his shirt has a stain. He looks at his whiteboard covered in an endless list of incomplete tasks. Someone is in his doorway, asking how to handle something. As he answers, the phone rings. Speaker phone. It's an older guy, asking how to fill out an online form. He sends the man an email. He asks the door person to send him an email. He pops a Zyn and rubs his temples. The Outlook notification alert informs him there's a meeting in fifteen minutes about value adds and stakeholders. He thinks about when he waited tables. Tacos sound good right now. Should have thought of that earlier. It's only 8:47. Only eight more hours to go.

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