I just ran through my caffeine high.
Patrons, clients, coworkers. Everyone is making me lose this sweet tasteful iced brew coffee I had this morning. Network is down, printers are offline. They all need to print, and I need a second cup. Of Joe.
Who is Joe anyway?
I am potentially running a marathon in these worn out shoes. Computers on the west wing, center, and right. Some can print. Some cannot. I tighten my jacket to get the chill A/C from blowing on my bones more by the minute. It’s only been ten minutes since I got here. The chaos in the breakroom is a safe haven for me. Even though I cannot stay there. The patrons need me.
Also, I’m reading a novel. A Science fiction novel. The caffeine’s purpose is to help me through a boring story about aliens and foreigners, and just a friendly reminder about how America is really like behind closed doors. I try not to slip on my shoes as I walk by computer after computer.
Restarting and restarting.
I would like a restart. Of today.
I want my cup of Joe back. The nice high of caffeine like a fifth grader on Christmas morning. Oh, the joy. The energy comes right back to me from a restless sleep. I cannot sleep through the night because of the
Stress. Aniexty. Long-suffering. Distress.
The patrons are in distress. The need to print important documents, legal and illegal. I help with the act, yet turn a blind eye. I am suppose to remain silent about the darkness in this company. The things that go unseen. I perform another dancing act: from computer to computer. Supervisor to supervisor. Reporting new problems like an archer on television. Yet, I hold back the darkness, and recite the issues, problems, and resolutions.