today: 0900 : the editor has been locked in the corner office for almost two days. not sure if we're getting paid this week. not sure if we ever got paid. the schedule, some told, goes as follows
0010 - 0145 : group chain smoking , as is customary. editor goes inside.
0300 - 0330 : dumping what must be all of the alcohol out under the door. it's a goddamn mess in here now and it smells like high hell
0445 - 0600 : screaming about how "dogs got ii many nips, man. i mean, i get why they have so many, it's just ii much."
0605 : not sure how the editor actually says "ii" instead of "too." i hate this job
0730 - 0830 : screaming at the computer "find me a goddamned aa meeting that i don't actually have to go ii irl"
(0730 : the editor doesn't have voice commands enabled. or a microphone. or a phone)
1300 - 1700 : snoring, quietly. last week the editor fired four interns because one of them was well-rested and the rest didn't have anything ii say about it.
(1330 : now i'm using "ii." please deliver us from this stockholm fever.)
1500 - 1600 : the first attempt to post for help is made. the autoban script for poor #content triggers, but the guards that usually escort the fired ones out don't show up. it's awful quiet outside the office
1930 - 2000 : the editor is banging against the plate glass window to the outside. i know it's at least a four-story drop from that side, and as far as i remember it's just jagged sheets of ice down below. only the front entrance has pine trees, imported, i guess.
2130-2300 : stir crazy. stir, crazy. can't leave editor has the keys. fuckin fire hazard, that is. this cat august over in r+d has been etching something ornate, elaborate, unnecessary into the big wooden desk they got. me, i'm over here making strength checks until i level up. oh hey sam wants to say something
sam: "i can count to five. observe - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. never say i was a liar."
what the fuck, sam. lock it down
2350 - 0000 : sudden, abject wailing from the editor's office. can't get this out of my head. it's so pathetic. no words now, only dreams. but the dreams are nightmares and everything is terrible
0115 - 0145 : oh good the people in human resources are keeping me from chronicling their progress via a series of extremely nsfw actions. thanks.
0150 : i wonder if the editor even has a family. i'm gonna have to redact a bunch of this shit.
0400 - 0415 : put a couple of drafts in the queue just for laffs. someone in maintenance cursed loudly as soon as i hit send. i love this job sometimes. because i can hurt people in fantastic ways.
0530 - 0534 : aaaannnnnieeee [incoherent] the investigatiooon's already underway / things have gone tooo farrrrr /playin teleephone / twenty city blocks
0630 : editor's awake, i guess. slid the keys under the door. there's like fifty goddamn anime keychains on the ring. idek what half of them are. gonna post a bunch of smug asukas while the people in maintenance are still trying to do upgrades.
0645 : i guess i could wake everybody up and tell them they can go home but theoretically the art department's gonna be showing up today and i want them to see this disheveled despair hovel
0700-0830 : well i tell you nonce and you already know that those golden-eye-lookin' spring-steppin mother fuckers still ain't showed their face at this bon vivant soiree we got goin on here. fuck. y'all. get a job. "clap emoji." still not waking anybody up. like tellin' a dude to wake up because it's time for bed. we were comrades in wakefulness, once.
1005 : oh shit ohshitohshitohshit someone just unlocked the door from outside
1010 : fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck who is that
1015 : it's the owner
1016 : owner just kicked the editor's door in like so many fuckin strawmen. so cool. i need a new job probably
1030-1145 : shouting. so loud, so much. something about "you swore the oath" "post until you die," etc. etc. a shitty mall sword crashes through one of the windows around 1115. it's moldy as shit. how do you do that
1200 : the owner left.didn't take the sword. human resources is still having an orgy
1315 : editor came out, looks like a roasted ass. no attempts to clean up signs of crying, vomiting, hours of smoking. come to think of it there isn't a bathroom in there. having some good clean fun not thinking abt that
1330-1345 : general meeting. "i'm gonna keep this brief. everyone go home iv a few days. i'm gonna, probably, take a sponge bath with whatever paper towels we have left and then make a big fort out of all of your cubicles. the end. don't @ me." no explanation is offered and everyone is too tired or anxious to ask. that was one of the questions in the interview, though, "are you prone to being too tired or anxious to ask for an explanation if someone has wronged you?" lotta weird shit like that in there. i'll post it sometime if i can ever get back to my desk
1400 : in the parking lot. can kind of see the editor standing in one of the windows, just staring out onto the glacier. good luck, buddy