“…and this will be your office,” said Jim, smiling like a lizard: all tongue and no teeth. Alex looked around, puzzled. They were sharing the elevator which was shaking a little as it ascended.
“Where?” he said, checking what number was lit. They were heading to the 33rd floor.
“Here,” said Jim, swinging an arm wide. Alex pressed himself back against the elevator wall to avoid him. “This elevator will be your office. Much better than a poxy little cubicle, don’t you think?”
“Err, well, it’s a bit sma—”
“You can’t expect luxuries this early on in your career, Alex. It might be small, but it’s a lot more convenient than most people get. You’ll never have to get up from your desk and walk to meetings, we’ll just push your button and bring you to us. You can put this on your CV as a job with plenty of travel, that’ll look good. And no windows either, nothing to distract you!”
The elevator muzak began to play, the latest Barry White cover of Belgian nosebleed techno. Alex nodded sadly and sat down.