Crestfallen dandy Artemis J. Hatfield was nearly inconsolable after receiving a written warning from Staples manager Luis Monteiro, in which he was advised that the symptom of “General Malaise” was not an acceptable reason for missing his shift at the office supply store.
“I declare, sometimes a body simply cannot muster the vitality to go forth and perform one’s appointed duties”, sighed the living homage to a bygone affectation. “My slumber was disturbed by the most frightful apparitions and visions, and I awoke in the foreday in such a turmoil, why I couldn’t even summon the fortitude to change out of my nightdress and put on my dressing gown, let alone to don the livery of the Staples hireling.
“Naturally, when I arrived the following day with my humors and spirits rejuvenated, I was astonished by the good Mr. Monteiro’s less than charitable reaction to my vicissitudes. Perhaps I should have been more illuminative in the narrative of my travails, I was simply trying to spare the kind gentleman the anguish of reliving my harrowing rendezvous with the dark phantasms of my soul.”
“I’ve just about had it with Hatfield”, complained Monteiro. “I swear, it’s like having Dr. Smith (from Lost in Space) working for you. He’s never not shown up before, but when he’s here, he’s always saying stuff like ‘Stacking this merchandise has vanquished my vigor’ or ‘The design of this escritoire is barbaric’. Or whenever he has to read something, he makes a huge production out of putting on those stupid glasses (pince-nez), I mean he’s like 30, I doubt that he really needs reading glasses. Oh, and occasionally he wears a monocle. God, sometimes I just want to punch him, but I don’t want to lose my job, and dammit, he’s just so polite.”
At press time, Hatfield was lost in a reverie while manning the Printing Center, reminiscing of his halcyon days as the trusted aide de camp to the late, great philanthropist Charles Worthington Winterbottom.