I opened my eyes. Not to the sound of chirping birds, nor to the sound of the builders next door hammering away, nor to the sound of my alarm clock. I just opened my eyes as a sudden feeling of terror ran through me. I turned to my right, away from the wall and squinted as I tried to read thetime on my alarm clock. It was "3:30 PM"."Oh no", I thought, "Not again".There was something seriously wrong with me; anyone who oversleeps for over eight hours isn't anormal human being. I've been like this for a few days now and suspect that I've either caught thesummer bug or that my body has just had it and is reacting to the sheer exhaustion everyone inDevelopment is experiencing from having to work six days a week, twelve hours a day for the pastfew months without any overtime pay.I didn't spend much time thinking about what might be screwed up about my inner workings because I knew that there was a more frightening matter that I would soon have to come face-to-face with. The very thought of it sent a cold chill down my spine and made the hairs on my back stand on end. I knew that there was no running away from it. I was going to have to...I was going tohave to go to HR tomorrow morning and give them my sick leave form, without a GP-stamped sick note confirming that I was actually sick and that I hadn't just taken the day off to go skippingthrough the local park singing "We shall overcome".Making eye contact with anyone in HR is dreadful enough; imagine how terrifying it is to actuallyengage in a conversation with someone there. The level of scariness is compounded when you knowfor a fact that you're in the wrong and that HR has the indisputable upper hand.I didn't want to think about it, but I had to, because I was going to have to visit them the nextmorning and therefore needed to prepare myself for the encounter. My heart started to beat moreviolently as I sat up in bed and gently rubbed my eyes. I got the same weird feeling that I used toget the night before the first day of school. I'd spent so long building up my ego; I didn't want allthat effort to go to waste as a result of HR's notorious Nazi-inspired ego-shatteration techniques.I'd only been up for a few minutes, but I was already beginning to feel tired, so I set the alarm clock for 6:30 AM and lay down again. A few minutes later I was fast asleep.The next morning I woke up to the sound of the always-nerve-wracking alarm clock. Resigned tomy fate, I got out of bed, washed my face, changed, got into my car and drove to work. Our building's parking lot is reserved for upper management, so we have to park in the visitors' parkinglot that is a good 150 yards away from our building. A big sign hangs near the entrance that reads"The shaded parking lot is reserved for those who have made it in life; the rest of you suckers can park in this hell-hole".I got out of my car and began the trek to our building. The days are baking hot in the summer, so bythe time I got there I was soaked in sweat and was sipping the final drops from my third bottle of water. I walked through the sliding glass door and immediately fell to my knees as a cool burst of air hit me in the face. I threw back my head and smiled. Boy did it feel good. Showing any signs of happiness in the wee hours of the morning isn't taken well here; in fact, it may even be a fireableoffense, so I got up before anyone noticed and made my way up to the 15th floor.I sat in my cubicle, took care of some final errands, sent a few emails to my loved ones, sealed mywill and put it in my drawer. I took a deep breath. It was now or never, so I got up, holding the sick leave form in my right hand, and made my way to the elevator. I pressed the "Up" button. A fewseconds the later, the doors opened, revealing an empty carriage. I got in and pressed "17".It started moving upwards."Doors closing""Ting"Then silence...