Charlie went into the office same as he did on every other day before today. He woke up, did his biologics, brushed his teeth, showered, got dressed, packed his bag and left his flat. On the subway he was listening to some music, all the while he was reading around his phone about what had happened in the world during the few hours he was asleep. Alas, nothing extraordinary ever happened during that time. He usually arrives about five minutes to spare before core hours. So even before disrobing his jacket or offloading his bag, Charlie goes to the kitchen for coffee. He doesn’t usually drinks coffee, but there is a decent coffee machine in the office, with decent coffee in it, with milk, and most importantly, it is free. So why not make like the adults, and have a free dose of caffeine? He takes out two glasses. Never a mug. In one glass, he puts 3 teaspoons worth of sugar, and then puts it on the designated spot and selects cafe macchiato. The second glass has dual purpose. First, it’s a holder for the glass with the fresh coffee. Why bother with a hot glass if you don’t have to? Second, and that’s later in the day, Charlie needs something to drink water out of, so having an extra glass that is clean is handy. He walks from the kitchen over to his desk with his thermal solution in hand, greets everybody with “Gooooood morning Vietnam!”.

Most people in the office have no idea of the reference, they just like it because it seems to be a somewhat upbeat greeting. The older folk kinda remember that there was a movie with the same title, they know that it is in reference of the Vietnam war, and Charlie is a movie buff, so for him to use a movie quote checks out. In reality, Charlie is using it because in his mind, the office is a battlefield, where all the privates and some low level officers are struggling to stay alive while carrying out orders, all the while the top brass is far, far behind, with no regard of the consequences of their ask on the soldiers. Charlie really looks at office life as it were trench warfare from world war one, but they never made an upbeat, quotable movie about that one. So Vietnam it is. 

He sips on his coffee while skimming through all the incoming emails. Most of them are trash, automated, no longer necessary reports that can be marked as read in bulk, together with some other memos that doesn’t really concern him, he is just in the distribution list. But today, there is an unusual item on the agenda. Well, not really unusual, just not that frequent. Which is good, because it has the unfortunate property of being able to annoy Charlie to no end. Performance review and feedback session. A process that Charlie founds to be utterly cringy, useless and just outright hypocritical. Spending time and using big words to paint ones station into way more than it is. Like running a personal election campaign. Charlie found the whole thing distasteful, but just like the tuna fish oil in his childhood, he had to go along and swallow this as well. One more thing that most of his fellow colleagues had no clue about, daily tuna fish oil as supplement. They have pills for that nowadays.

After lunch, Charlie goes into a conference room with his manager. A new manager this year, the one before has left the company as it was becoming boring to them. Boring is one thing that Charlie never complained about. The new guy is not that bad either, but he actually likes this process. He is a people person. Well, everybody has to have at least one flaw. They are going through the motions, in agreement mostly about the items. Then the manager brings up the feedbacks he requested about Charlie from other people. It has been a minute since Charlie received opinions from others about himself, and the large number of responses somewhat stirred his curiosity. Never did he receive so many opinions, and not from these people. Strangely, they seem to be on the positive side. 

“…Charlie is not afraid to challenge… Charlie is never anxious about unexpected issues… Charlie always finds a solution to deal with complex issues…”

The praises just keep coming and Charlie is bothered by it. In his head, he knows that the reality is different. Charlie challenges because he doesn’t want to do that shit. Charlie is never anxious because he just doesn’t care. Charlie finds solutions because he just wants to get rid of that task as soon as possible. Sure, experience and some brain power is there, but all Charlie ever wants to do is to go home and lock the door behind him. The office can burn down as long as the paycheck still comes. He was surprised that his immense laziness was inspirational to others. Well, if you misread laziness as being collected and efficient that is.

But, who cares really? The boss is happy, the paperform looks good, and this annoying task is ticked off for another year.

Charlie goes for another coffee after the meeting and purposefully dodges doing anything productive until 5PM. At five minutes past five, he packs ups, shakes some hands and walks out. About an hour later he arrives home, locks the door behind him, disrobes fully, pours a shot of liqueur to himself and proceeds of being a couch potato for the rest of the day.

The next day, he wakes up, and starts the day from square one, as if yesterday never ever happened. One more day, waiting in the trench, in the mud, hoping not be ordered to go into no-man’s-land. One more day to survive.

It is a difficult thing to be a full-time writer. Not all of us will become a best seller, multi-millionaire author like that chick with them wizard books. Rachel knew this. She would have been satisfied with just go out for dinner and not worry about the check at the end. Alas, no cigar. After 15 years of professional writing, here she was, in the land of prose-mortem. The office of the Metropolitan Morning, was, for lack of a better word, disheartening. It was too small for the hired staff, it was in the basement, it only got cleaned every two weeks or so, and even then, just superficially. As for the restrooms, well, Rachel was sure that most gas station toilets are cleaner. But what do you expect from a paper that is printed on the cheapest quality of pulp, handed out for free in train and subway stations by questionable individuals to commuters, and which has for content stories that even the tabloids would not touch and advertisements for goods and services that usually will end up as subject in a lawsuit. If only they would not smoke in the office…

Rachel kept staring in her computer screen. She had to write 200 words for next morning’s issue with not much time left until the paper lock, which she could not afford to lose. This article was the third from a set of ten she needed to complete so that her position in this illustrious gazette would have become permanent. And if the position is secured, Rachel can expect a generous pay bump, so that she can afford 3 frozen dinner meals a week instead of two. 

Norm, one of the senior writers was often at his desk after hours. Of course, he was sleeping after emptying his second pocket size vodka bottle of the day. He needed some shut eye before driving home for bottle number three. Eileen also liked to hang around more than the average. Especially during winter times, when the power and/or the heating is cut off in her building due to unpaid bills every other week. At least in the office she can knit peacefully.

But still, Rachel needed to write something. There were a couple of topics available, that nobody ran with, so she might as well take one off the board. Finally, her eyes land on the name Jenny.

Jenny was a young girl, born and raised in some backwater, rural area. She was not bright, and she was not pretty. One night, some of the high school kids threw a party, she gets hammered, unwillingly, and ends ups pregnant. Jenny lives in a small town, so naturally this makes some noise, but nobody steps forward as the father and there are far too many suspects to test them all. Paternity tests are expensive. Eventually, everybody gets bored, and the case gets buried. Except Jenny did not like losing the spotlight. She wanted more of it. So, on Sunday, she got up in front of the congregation in church, right after the sermon has ended, and declared that she did nothing wrong. Jenny made the announcement that her baby was an alien. She was not having sex with a highs cool kid while being drunk, she was abducted by aliens. This has caused some commotion, but undoubtedly qualified that day’s sermon in the top 5 sermons ever held in that church. Eventually, the local pastor took Jenny under his wings. But as it turned out, this did not keep Jenny safe from the aliens, as she got abducted three more times in the next five years. Eventually, somebody in power decided that the town could afford at least three paternity tests, and what would you know, turns out them spaceships were driven by the pastor. All three kids, his. He got kicked out of his parish and child protective service have collected the kids. Jenny ended up in a care facility for the mentally challenged individuals, two counties away. Apparently, the aliens do not venture out that far.

After reading the details, Rachel knew that she could have turned this into rather compelling human-interest story. Like a five-part limited series, two thousand words per article. But this was not her former paper, or the one before that, or the one before that. No, this was the Metropolitan Morning. Their stories had to be short and entertaining. Nothing more beyond trivial. And most of all, not a downer. 

Rachel had thirty minutes left before paper lock. She really needed a stable job, even one as wretched as this one. So, finally, she took a deep breath, and with rapid fire speed, she keyed in 200 words before her second breath. This performance was loud enough to wake up Norm. Well, for the duration of an ass scratch and a fart. Rachel quickly re-read her writing. It was basically about Jenny’s alien baby announcement, combined loosely with the plot of this C rated sci-fi movie she watched the week before, after her third glass of chardonnay. It was 200 words of empty calories, that the government did neither confirm nor deny the existence of the aliens. She hit the send button and off went the story to the presses.

On her way home, Rachel bought some groceries at her local corner store. Nothing but the best that the cheapest brands can offer. As she walked towards her building, she heard some noises from some trash cans. A small kitten jumped out from between the cans and started climbing up on Rachels pants, meowing all the way. Rachel was selected by the cat distribution system, or so it seems. She picked up the little fellow in her palms, looked it in the face and tried really hard not to tear up. Finally, Rachel rushed home with the kitten and the groceries. She locked the door behind her, spilled the store bag over the kitchen desk, picked up the small can of tuna, opened it up and gave it to the kitten, which proceeded to eat it with a frenzy, while purring. Rachel backed up to the wall then collapsed down, crying her eyes out. That can of tuna was the last one that she could buy for a long time, but dammit, she will save that small purring soul. God knows, she cannot save her own…

 Marc was in the bathhouse changing room. He spent almost 2 hours in the water prior, and God, it felt good. It was a grueling day at work and he really needed a pick-me-up. The hot water was just the ticket. He always was under the impression that sitting alone in the water would be boring and he will not be able to handle it, but he was proven wrong about a year ago, when he decided to give it a shot regardless of expectations. Turned out that he loves it and ever since then, he was hooked. Just being still in a silent, hot pool of water really managed to turn off his otherwise busy mind. Each bathhouse session was like a comfortable nap, and after it Marc was ready to tackle whatever. But today was especially hard, and he needed the extra time just to recharge.

 As he got dressed, he noticed a guy he never saw there before. Its not like the other was famous or particularly good looking. Marc was not really interested in any of these aspects. What really made this guy to stand out was his back-piece tattoo. It was a black and white, but otherwise photo realistic depiction of a sand castle. The full back, nothing but the sand castle. No sea in the background, or clouds. No small plastic buckets and shovels in the foreground or a playful little crab. It was just the sandcastle, done in the richest way possible. It was the best sandcastle Marc had ever seen. Not like he was into sandcastles in general, but still. He must have starred at it for some time because the other guy got somewhat uncomfortable.

 “Just so you know, I am not into guys” he said out loud. Marc needed a second to make the connection that the statement was aimed at him and a second more to realize why.

 “Uh, no, sorry. I didn’t meant it like that. Sorry. I wasn’t implying anything either, just got stuck on your…. sandcastle” replied Marc in a haste, hoping to high heaven that his words will not be mistaken for a euphemism.

 “Ah, that…” said the stranger, “should have guessed it really. I know that its unusual and all, but in a place like this its more likely to get hit on than one might think.”

 “No, no… its just the sandcastle, I swear. I don’t think I ever saw a better one than what you have got there.”

 “Oh… Thanks, I guess… my kid made it. The sandcastle I mean. The tattoo was done by some alien looking dude downtown. It had cost an arm and a leg. But it was worth it. This was the thing my kid was the most proud of, like ever. He even said it out loud after he finished it building.”

 “A sandcastle as the highest achievement? Isn’t that somewhat strange?”

 “Well, not if you are a 6 years old. He was run over by a car about a week later, so its not like he could carry on with the surpassing of achievements.”

 Upon hearing this, Marc has shrunk to half his size. His mind just froze and was unable to utter one more word in his own defense. He just shook his head uncontrollably and finished dressing up as fast as he could. Whatever energy he managed to conjure up after the 2 hours long bath session, it was gone. His only thought was to get out of there and fast. Outside was raining, a general shit weather, but he could not care less, he just wanted to lock the door behind him and to forget those two short sentences that he blurred out into the world. Needles to say, he had a horrible nights sleep, and was a general wreck for days to come.

 About 2 weeks after the unfortunate event, Marc had found himself in the waiting room of a dermatologist. Apparently, he managed to pick up some sort of fungus on that ill fated day. There was an old saying that bad things usually come in company of 3, or at least he had heard something of this likeness, sometime, somewhere. Normally, Marc would “walk” something like this off, but for whatever reason, this fungus became quite annoying. His regular doctor didn’t know what to make of it, so he referred Marc to a dermatologist for some expert advice.

 He has been waiting for over 40 minutes by now, but then again, the waiting room was full before his arrival. Who knew that dermatologist are in such high demand? Finally, the nurse calls his name and tells him that he can go in, the doctor will be there shortly. Marc enters the office and sits down on the chair in front of the doctors desk. Not 20 seconds go by and the doctor enter the office through the door behind Marc. Marc hears him, stands up and turns around to greet the doctor. Little did he know that the doctor is the same person as the guy with the sandcastle tattoo…

 It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon. The five of them were alone in the conference room, trying organize that years team building event for the company. None of them wanted the job, or wanted to go to the team building in the first place, so who else would have been the best picks to ensure the fun time of everybody else? The main theme of the event has already been picked by some inspired executive, they just had make it happen. And the main theme was camping. Shivers ran down of everybody’s spine. 3 days in tents, with bugs, obnoxious people all around, but no hot water, no cell service and no way out. It was the stuff of nightmares. The executive who came up with was some new age, zen obsessed incompetent asshole, but he was some kind of relative to one of the higher ups, so he got a pass to be zero with a title. The only thing he was ever good at was making peoples life miserable. Not by malice, but by sheer stupidity, which one can argue, is worse. As such, the 5 people in the room had it particularly bad. That day, they had to come up with the activities that would build the team, and they were fresh out of ideas.

 “Why don’t we get legos?” said Jasper. “Those are fun, and can occupy everybody for hours.”

 “Like, what, put down some blankets on the ground, spill out a crate worth of parts for each group and let them have a go at it?” Cliff asked. “No fucking way! We will already have to deal with the bugs and the bush and all the discomforts of the outdoors, I don’t want to deal with one of he worst hazards of the indoors as well. Have you ever stepped on a lego? Those bricks can fuck you up!”

 “Only if you are not careful…” Jasper tried to deescalate.

 “Jasper, honey, have you seen our coworkers?” Jill intervened “Bill from accounting fells asleep every other day in full view, Janet from reception is always covered with cat hair top to bottom and the delivery guys that we have? Every week there is another dent or scratch or other damage on our vans. Careful is one thing they are reliably not. Besides, legos are too expensive. We would not get the budget for them. Even the camping gear we are getting is just one shade above second hand.”

 “But hey,” Cliff said, “ it was a nice idea man. I think I will buy some on my way home for the kids. But this company sucks…”

 Upon this conclusion, the team sat in silence for a minute or two, pondering on their current station and the people they surround theirselves with on a daily basis. They all gave their 2 weeks notice the next day.

 The camp team-building went ahead without them. In the company newsletter it was described as an unforgettable adventure. Bill from accounting got food poisoning, Janet from reception managed to get her ankle twisted, and the guys from delivery knocked over some hornets nest and got bitten all over.

 Also, on the second day of camping, it rained… all day long.

 This was not the way Janet has envisioned her day would end. It was a pretty by the numbers day, with nothing out of the ordinary and this was just fine with her. After work and the mind numbing commute, Janet just wanted to play with her new pets for about a half an hour, before turning into a couch potato. Yes, a little sunshine in the back yard and some laughter with the “kids” would do her just perfect. The “kids”, as she called them, were a new development in Janets life. She has lived alone and the house felt more and more empty, as the years has passed on. But she did not wanted somebody to move in either, or at least not until mr. right shows up anyway, as she often put it. As such, she compromised and started looking for the perfect pet to cheer up the domestic life.

 For whatever reason, Janet was on the opinion that cats and dogs are too mainstream and that she should go for something less ordinary, something odd, as she is. Never the less, the options were in abundance and pretty soon, Janet felt overwhelmed by the possibilities. Then, as she was browsing the headlines on a particular day, she came across a picture of a baby platypus. Janet was smitten. The level of cuteness was over the moon. That was it, she had to get a platypus as a pet. Small bump to overcome… there were no platypuses anywhere near where she lived. This is not the sort of animal a pet store would be selling, there is no platypus pound, there are no platypus champion breeders, and the few zoos that actually have the animal certainly are not in the selling business. Janet was distraught. Her dream was shattered. After all the soul searching she has done for the perfect pet, she was ultimately denied.

 Resigned of her failure, she still went to the pet shops on occasion, just to browse, hoping that inspiration would struck her again, but with a more realistic resolve. And as it happens, it did. Over night, Janet became the proud owner of a ferret and a duckling. The “kids” seemed to like their new surroundings, although the ferret always protested when, after playtime, it was returned to its cage. But what can you do? Ferrets cannot run around in the house on their own. Janet was very happy with the new found life in her house and played with her “kids” every morning before work, and in the afternoon after. Except today….

 Today she came home and the ferret was in the middle of the kitchen. It had a stuffed belly and there was a bit of dried blood on its mouth as well as on the floor. Janet could have sweared that she locked the cage in the morning and she was rather positive that she has left no meat outside in the open that the ferret could have eaten. Actually, there was no meat in the house whatsoever, as Janet was vegan. This whole thing was very puzzling and did not sit well with Janet. A sense of dread was creeping up on her. As the ferret was put back in the cage and locked in, twice, the sound of silence in the house became evermore louder. Janet realized that she has yet to hear from the duckling. She went to the corner that was set up as accommodation for the duckling, but it too has escaped that day, it seems, as it was not there. This mischief began to aggravate Janet. She started walking around the house, seeking for the duckling, but no response. Then, by chance, she glanced a pair of duckling feet next to the refrigerator. Janet rushed to the fridge to surprise the little fellow, but her joy quickly faded away and made room for sorrow.

 There was no more little duckling there, only an empty husk. The ferrets meal was the duckling. Janet broke down in tears. The universe has found her unfit to take care of a pet. By the time Janet had found the strength to get up from the kitchen floor, it was almost dark outside. She took the remains of the duckling and buried it in her back yard. Then she went to the ferrets cage. She couldn’t blame the poor animal for her own neglect, but then again, there was no more joy in looking at the little ferrets face either. It had to go. The took the cage in her car and drove to the woods outside of town. There, in one of the resting stops, she took out the cage and opened it up. The ferret quickly came out, but then stopped, somewhat confused. Janet clapped loudly and the ferret ran straight into the bushes. After a loud sigh, Janet got back in the car and drove home. Her home was silent once more, and empty. She opened up a bottle of Chardonnay and and started the couch potato part of her evening, what was left of it anyway.

 About a year later, at the same time, she was sitting on a chair in a not so nice room filled with strangers and said: “ Hi, I am Janet, and I am an alcoholic.”