“So, does it break down often?” I asked Marcy as she was busy making six copies of a phone-book-sized insurance policy.

“Oh good heavens, no! That would be awful!” She looked at me as if I’d asked whether the copier tap-danced and sang in addition to its regular duties.

“Really? That’s good,” I offered lamely, managing a quick smile and continuing on my way to the mail room. This place was a little more reassuring in its normalcy – letters and memos were stuffed haphazardly in each staff member’s mail slot, and the postage machine was the same intimidating behemoth of strange buttons and a too-sensitive scale that would probably give you an error more often than a postage amount.

At least, it was normal until a short, rounded fellow rose from his seat behind a small desk I hadn’t noticed in the corner, approaching me with a broad smile. “You must be new here. I’m Gary.” He extended a hand to shake, which I did so belatedly after recovering from my surprise. Who had a desk in the mail room?