Boys don’t dream of one day growing up to be an office drone. I am no different.

This was the thought that crossed my mind as I entered the elevator with the suede upholstered walls and marble floor. I still hadn’t quite gotten used to working in an office building that had an indoor courtyard and a guy that they pay to hold the door open for you on your way in, and out, of the building.

One of the middle-aged women who mismanage another department in my office ran to get on the elevator before the doors closed. She looked at me, trying to figure out how to come up with conversation because, well, that’s what you do on elevators.

‘So how are you doing?’ she asked me, obviously unaware of my name.
‘I’m still alive, so I suppose there isn’t too much to complain about,’ I said. ‘How about you?’
She let out a laugh and then turned to look at herself in the mirrored elevator doors as they closed and said ‘It’s always so busy here, but we should just be happy we have jobs in this economy!’

The door opened at the bottom floor and we both went our separate ways. I couldn’t quite shake the conversation from the forefront of my mind, though.

I really don’t feel negatively about the impending financial apocalypse. I’m young, I don’t have much debt, and I was only just squeaking by on a definitively low wage a couple of years ago. I could easily transition back to that, were there to be an economic collapse.

From chaos comes order, it’s the way of the universe. How the hell else would you explain something as chaotic as the big bang bringing us to this point?

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