I drum my nails on the desk again. The steady click clack keeps me from going insane, or maybe it ushers me along. Either way analyzing marketing reports has to be one of the most boring jobs on the planet. Why hasn't someone invented a computer to do this for humans yet?
The numbers run together as my tedious calculations come from muscle memory. I'll be calculating these statistics in my dreams soon. The only thing that keeps me going through the boring days is daydreaming about what the man upstairs is doing. Hopefully not yelling at Amy, his assistant. Although I wouldn't put it past him. She can tolerate Vincent's work demands a hundred times better than I ever did as his assistant.