A fire alarm: what a joyous occasion! At least if it happens when the skies are blue, on a crisp October morning, as the working week begins. And it's a false alarm, the only casualties the timetables dreamed up by bosses and supervisors.
I pass one such building this morning. Employees in cheap suits and Primark skirts file out, merry in conversation, some lighting up a fag as soon as they can see no roof over their heads. Some have coffee paper cups in their hands. Colleagues who were rushing in, thinking they'd be late, slow down and smile as fate, this time, plays them a good card with which to start the day.
I pass one such building this morning. Employees in cheap suits and Primark skirts file out, merry in conversation, some lighting up a fag as soon as they can see no roof over their heads. Some have coffee paper cups in their hands. Colleagues who were rushing in, thinking they'd be late, slow down and smile as fate, this time, plays them a good card with which to start the day.
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