At times, my job translates into a Dilbert comic. Straight-out. There are days, after I’ve been asked when I will have kids, taken out to ice cream, and then approvingly pat on the head by my boss after I’ve made 40 copies for him, I wonder what my goal in life was supposed to be. I don’t think this was it.
At times where my work can’t ascribed to a Dilbert-like scenario, it’s just like Clockwatchers. A petri-dish of gossip and corporate mantras.
NO SAINTS IN L.A. 