Beneath the veneer of progress and convenience lies the dank reality, an echoing tale told in coffee breaks and pessimism-drenched corridors. "How lovely," whispered the headlines as they watched the factory chimneys puff out their last golden sunsets.
Consider, if you will, the inbox dressed in urgency's finest attire. Each ping, a siren's song, luring into chaos hidden beneath the spreadsheets like a gremlin in a tuxedo, poised to ruin your Friday. But the truth, dear reader, is that Fridays are an illusion, much like happiness, found only in the pages of outdated HR handbooks.
Herein lies the biggest scam—our daily grind masquerading as a noble cause, while we shuffle paper like ancient scribes of some doomed civilization, inscribing fate into profit margins with sarcasm as our only divine guide.
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As the coffee grows cold, remember that the ugly truth isn't in the depths, but rather in our relentless pursuit of distraction, a treadmill with no pause button, yet oddly comforted by its predictable grind.