Working Late

For the second night in a row, I’m working late. I’m at the day job office, and it’s night. I just looked out the window onto E 24th St. Usually, you see a handful of towncars on hand to pick up the various midnight oil-burners from my building and the one across the street. It’s one of the perks of working well into the night; if you live outside the city, the company’ll send you home in a towncar.

Here’s what really fucks me up. It’s a Friday night, and there are 17 towncars lined up. There may be more, but my line of sight was restricted. I just looked again, probably closer to 20. What does that mean? There are a hell of a lot of people working late tonight. Some of the cars are leaving, but more are coming. Poor bastards. Just like me.

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