I get to work every day at 6:00AM. Two hours till it kicks off. One hour earlier than everyone else, even my “boss”.
He’s 10 years younger than me, but I get it. It’s a numbers game.
I undo my cufflinks, rolling up my sleeves. I seem to always be wearing my classic power shirt, channeling my inner “Gordon Gekko”. The white collar is neatly pressed, the crushed blue is ironed just so. I read the paper, I eat a “power brokers breakfast” (black coffee, bagels and cocaine).
I watch the clock.
7:45AM – Almost …
7:55AM – No more bathroom breaks …
I won’t leave this chair until I have dialled 200 numbers. 200 potential sales await me. Soon I will be out of this retched, festering den of “low sale sally’s”, as we call them. I can do it. I will do it.