Look, it's just unacceptable, Graham says to me.

You've had the lowest sales in the department for two months now.

You're going to have to get your shit together, or I'm going to have to fire you.

I slouch in my chair.

My brow is crumpled so hard that it aches.

My mind is numb, except for one clear thought. Fuck you, Graham.

I'm serious, Adam, he snaps. I only hired you as a favor to Megan. Don't embarrass me

by making me fire you. I thought to myself, fuck you, and fuck Megan too. I don't need your

handouts. Graham groans and rubs his forehead.

Just get out of my office. With pleasure, I grumble. I take an awkward moment to heave myself out of the

tiny, tiny chair. I can feel Graham's embarrassed stare on me as I struggle to get my 300-pound frame

out of the small seat. The air gets tense and how humiliating it is. Finally, I get myself out of the

chair. Heated and sweating in my suit, I start walking out. As I get out onto the floor again,

I can see my coworkers. They lurk amongst the shining cars,

gossiping like schoolgirls. As I walk out, they all look up at me, not even being subtle about it,

and start cackling. I hate them. I hate them so much. Graham too. And Megan, for treating me like such a damn

charity case. People are just the worst. As I waddle past them, I can feel the sweat making

its way down my spinal cord, traveling down at speed. I'm so hot. For fuck's sake, everything is such a pain.

A person comes in, a tall woman, dressed in luxury brands.

That sneer on her face tells me she expects to be weighted on hand and foot.

I hate her already. One of my colleagues looks over at me. Hey Adam, you want to take this one?

You know, since you haven't made a sale yet this week. Oh, fuck you, Ben, I thought. I force a smile and

...