In the dimly lit corridors of competence, where every necessary task invariably breeds excess, we stumble upon the shadowy alcoves of professional irony. Here, bioluminescent truths flicker enigmatically, casting light upon the dark certainties seldom explored in the daylight.
Witness the corporate ladder, a veritable Mont Saint-Michel of unavoidable ambition, rising into the ether of empty accolades—supported, of course, by the treachery of lightness.
And what, dear traveler, is this 'work-life balance' you speak of—a turbulent love affair, conducted in the alcove shadows with whispered vows of sacrosanct Sundays.
Generous in these glow-lit corners, we discover the bureaucratic beasts, ever ready to pounce upon submissions drenched in half-hearted diligence, like nocturnal predators high on inefficiency fumes.