I think I just met the happiest person in the world. It’s off putting really, having that much energy and joy at such an ungodly time of the morning, above all else, at work.

I don’t think anyone should be so happy when taking the pedantic orders of middle aged office goers, that regard you with the same value that of a remote control.

My boss loves you sure, for now. He tells me I should be like you, I need to be more inviting, ask about peoples day, smile more.

I used to, smile more that is, but unliveable wages, unsympathetic bosses, and outrageous hours aren’t especially conducive to smiles.

You’re smiling though, and if anything I’m sad that I know your smile will fade. You’ll be abused one too many times by a customer about something that isn’t your fault, and you’ll be expected to do things outside of your job description.

I want to yell at the top of my lungs to get out of here, get out while you can, get out while you’re still excited by the prospect of work.

Dreams, souls and happiness are crushed here.

I would know.

I used to be the happiest person in the world.