“So is it worth it?” asks my colleague somewhat skeptically from across the round cafeteria table. We’re both sitting on tall bar stools – her – as obliviously as someone would in their natural habitat, me – painfully aware of my status as a temporary uninterrupted meal haver and bar stool sitter.
See, I’ve only been here for two months and she doesn’t know that much about me. I am, at this point, a bit of a patchwork quilt displaying patches of 5am wake ups, occasionally stained blazers and usually uneventful weekends. Peeking from behind these patches is the quilt itself, which is everything else that makes you-at-work: personality, work style and known biography.
“But is it worth it?”
I am searching for the words I want to tell her – you — but they form into a ready-made, cookie cutter answer and slip out of my mouth before I can…
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