Kyle Evans, a young office worker with a terrible life

Ugh... I can't believe I'm doing this again...

I stare down at the filing cabinet in front of me and sigh. How do these things always manage to get so disorganized? I feel like I end up staying late just about every week to reorganize one. The company storage room isn't even that big, and there are only so many of these cabinets in here. And yet, here I am, staying late to fix this mess. Again. I hate my life...

I can still hear all their voices in my head with crystal clarity.

"Whoops. Looks like I've been letting these forms pile up. It's gonna take forever to organize them."

"It's not a big deal. Just have Kyle sort it out. That's what he's here for."

"Well obviously. You didn't think I was going to do all this myself, did you? I mean, he should be used to staying late by now. And besides, it's not like he has anything better to do."

The only reason I don't have anything better to do is because this job takes up all my time with busy work like this. And why do I always get stuck in the office after hours? It's not like I'm the only one in an assistant position around here. But no. It's always me who has to be the last one out the door. God, this job sucks.

Well, at least I'm done. Or at least I hope I am. I know I'll get chewed out if these files aren't in tip-top shape tomorrow, but I just can't do any more. My brain feels like it's turned to mush at this point. Everything looks right to me, but it's always hard to tell for sure. I'll double-check everything first thing in the morning. But for right now, I just want to go home.

I walk out of the storage closet and flip the lights off, causing the entire building to become pitch black. Typical. They didn't even have the decency to keep the rest of the lights on for me. After fumbling around in the dark, I manage to grab my stuff and head out the front door. As I get outside, I see that the sun has already gone down and it's freezing cold, even with my jacket on.

Glancing over my shoulder, I notice the large sign hanging over the door to the office: "Iso Insurance" it reads in large letters. Man, how did it come to this? Working a crappy assistant job at an insurance agency I don't care about where everyone seems to get off on my suffering? I guess I just didn't have any other options...

I find my old rusted bucket-of-bolts on wheels in the parking lot and try to start it up. It takes more effort than I'd like to admit to get the thing running, but eventually the engine purrs to life. Well, more like hiccups to life, but at this point, I'll take it. I don't know what I'll do when it inevitably dies on me. But that's something I'd rather not think about right now, so instead I just pull off and drive home in deafening silence.