The very first thing they teach you is how to sniff out a fucking rat.

It's the twinge in my every moment.  The shudder in my nape as I devour into my steaming hot dinner.  Bli ayin hara.

It's not long before you start asking yourself the same sorts of questions they did. Who are these people?  Is Bob from Appian their director of engineering, or some Price-Waterhouse Pinkerton medal-of-merit claptrain looking for a second wind?

You start looking around and wondering, is anybody else here having the same sorts of slithering fucking nightmares that I am?  When the answer is no long enough, you wonder if you're in a room of people who didn't bother to ask, or no longer care.  

These are the things you wonder, the venom that aches away in one's heart with a bit of careful consideration.

Glacial Spring
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