Last night I thought about jumping out my office window. I saw some pidgeons flying around and they looked like they were enjoying themselves.
I sat in my Big Four office with Big Four furniture and Big Four titles and awards. I sat amongst forms numbered W-2 to 1040. I couldn’t stand looking at one more deduction or credit or figuring out what benefits Susanne Tomas should recieve (if any) from having two deceased husbands in the same tax year (What a coincidence).
I went to the window and looked down at the town. Chicago looks peaceful at 10pm on a day when it is almost 15 below zero, no people walking around and only lights, concrete, steal, and windows sitting before me. I smack my hands against the window, screaming out against my current situation. The world seems to ignore my calls for help. The pidgeons don’t even turn to acknowledge my cries. Stupid freakin pidgeons. All they do is shit.
No one’s in the office. No one but me and my friends, stacks of forms unfilled.
How did I come to this?
