office-worker

Light and the human is poorly understood by the astronomicalprofession, with many astronomers not understanding which light bulbs they should have in their ownhomes and offices! It is embarrassing that astronomers do not understand the many forms of artificiallighting that they are exposed to every day and how it affects them.

Formal business situations are likely to be the least revealing because these are the times when all of us are most likely to have our __ame faces' on.

Secrets are dangerous._ Gottfried Baumauer.

Only men with intelligence, confidence and absolutely no empathy at all can progress upstairs.

Each day of the week, Kalist indulges himself in a different, secret ritual. On Mondays, he wears cologne. On Tuesdays, he eats meat for lunch. On Wednesdays, he places a bet after work. On Thursdays, he smokes one cigarette (but claims he__ not a smoker). On Fridays, he treats himself to his favourite pastime: horse practice _ he grew up with horses and likes to try and emulate their distinctive whinnies, snorts, neighs, snuffles, sighs, grunts, fluttering nostrils, the occasional aggressive outburst and the especially beautiful nicker of a mare to her foal. And, on Saturdays, lest we forget, Maxwell D. Kalist drinks wine from a chalice.

Don__ mock my suggestions, Ridley _ one day in the near future, they might just save your life._ Maxwell D. Kalist.

To Kalist, Baumauer__ just a timber bridge in need of a good hot fire.

You are a more powerful person than you might have ever imagined._ Maxwell D. Kalist.

Are there not times, Ridley, when you yourself wish only to hear the best in people _ and not to be dragged downwards into the underworld we all regularly inhabit?

I__ warning you because you__e young and vulnerable. He__ a dirty, lying, conniving piece of shit and he__ dangerous._ Gottfried Baumauer.

Shame comes in different doses.

Maxwell D. Kalist is a receiving teller at a city bank, Orwell and Finch, where he runs an efficient department of twenty two clerks and twelve junior clerks. He carries a leather-bound vade mecum everywhere with him _ a handbook of the most widely contravened banking rules. He works humourlessly (on the surface of it) in a private, perfectly square office on the third floor of a restored grain exchange midway along the Eastern flank of Kv_tniv__ busy, modern central plaza. Behind his oblong slate desk and black leather swivel chair is an intimidating, three-storey wall made almost entirely of bevelled, glare-reducing grey glass in art-deco style; one hundred and thirty six rectangles of gleam stacked together in a dangerously heavy collage.

Every time I so much as blink you get an erection.

Men circle like bees around honey, buzzing to communicate their sexual despair.

It__ late and most of the clerks are at home in their beds, dreaming of swimming in pools filled with real money.

He__ in a side room alone with her and it__ far too fucking hot.

Without pride, man becomes a parasite _ and there are already too many parasites.

Nobody sane loves working in an office, It__ against human nature to be locked up in a cubicle all day long.