My Days in the Purgatory

I am sure everyone has a peculiarity that they are certain is unique to them. To take a few random instances, I know of a man who can eat sixty cockroaches in as many minutes (I am rather glad that he alone is the proud possessor of this dubious talent, I wouldn’t want every other person I meet to have cockroach breath; just the occasional whiff will do), and another who can go without any nourishment for more than a month. What I think puts me in the company of these eminent personalities is that I can recognize all my immediate colleagues by their feet. No, I don’t deduce anything by their footsteps, or their tread, or anything even remotely in the league of the Sherlock Holmes line of deduction, but their feet. It may seem futile to some, but I know that I will be noticed and snapped up by any passing carnival, and given top billings, alongside the bearded lady. How many people can honestly say that they can distinguish between two people purely by the way the veins on their feet run?
The other lesson that I have learnt in the big bad corporate world is to pass seven to eight hours of my day doing absolutely nothing, and doing it productively. In fact, I fill out my work diary with details of my hours devoid of purpose. This will then be sent on to the mother ship, as it were, where these records will determine whether or not I can be deemed worthy to be inducted into the noble profession of Accountancy and Book-keeping. Of course, I am hardly being fair to my profession. It is, after all, the Financial Genius that either rides any nation on to economic glory or plunges it to the depths of depression. Only, I cannot see how we are to learn to chart the fortunes of nations while staring at dysfunctional computer screens in a labyrinth of urinals, lined with lecherous colleagues.
The prime of my life, the morning and the spring time of my life, I spend ensconced in a passage way meant for one not-too-particular-about-hygiene person with three other people. If it were a recognized prison, human rights activists would take up our cause. However, since this, though state sponsored, is not recognized, we have no rights.
So, hypnotised into believing that this is one instance where the purgatory comes before the sin, I square my shoulders, clench my fists and walk into my office, day after day, everyday, for three years. After all, after that, the years are mine to sin as I please.