Bob sent me

-Part XII-

With all due respect, I think I got you.

You're, like, 10 years younger than you look. You're 20 years younger than I thought while talking with you. You have some kind of disease (some say it's called ninetofive) that impares your peripherical vision and have corroded your brain to a potato mush.

The second stage is: you stop making sense. Prejudice is one of the first things I could notice. Laziness. Apathy. Self-righteousness. Let me ask if you zombies eat brains to make up for those you don't use?

Third thing you'll live out of scraps. Scraps of attention, scraps of food, scraps of money. And you seem to thrive on scraps of power. You know, the moment you knew you could be mean to the intern and get along with it, you seemed to have grown in size.

Now you can barely see through your very, very distorted prejudice, you sound like your boss and colleagues and actually think you make a difference. And right now I don't know if I let you suffer another year or I fire you so you can "think out of the box".

Go fish.