“Uhm,” I squeaked out, and Gary glanced up from the UPS box, brows raised in question. “I was told I had a mail box in here?” I continued warily.

“Of course!” He slapped the printed label on the box with a nod, dropping it in a bin nearby, and beckoned me toward the rows of mail boxes labeled by department and name. “Here, let me show you around.”

I listened, wary of his cheery demeanor as he described the sorting procedures – internal memos went in all boxes before ten a.m., the local post was sorted no later than one-thirty, and most people checked their boxes in mid-afternoon, on their way back from coffee breaks. I glanced to the linoleum floor and noticed that there were faint brown spots here and there from the occasional spill. “Now,” and Gary’s firm tone snapped me back to attention, “This box here is yours.” He smiled and patted one of the mail slots, a narrow white label with plain block letters spelling my name.

There was a ‘Welcome to The Company!’ memo waiting inside on sunny yellow paper.