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Timeclock

I approached the door of Herman & Wetzel, Inc. with some hesitance. An imposing building, seemingly build sometime in the late 50’s, had an air of malevolence about it. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about this building left me uneasy. Not a feeling one particularly wants on one’s first day of work.

As I turned the ancient doorknob and entered the anteroom, I saw a withered old man seated next to an antique punch clock, and very little else. I was hoping to get a sense of what I would be doing at Herman & Wetzel, Inc., but the furnishings gave no insight.

“Come in. How may I help you?” creaked the old man.

“I’m here to start work today. My name is Angus Swift.”

“Ah yes, Mister Swift, our newest hire.” he said as he gestured to the only time card on the punch clock’s rack. The card had my name printed in bold script, which was strangely reassuring.

“Yes, sir. Here and ready to punch the clock,” I smiled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that,” he said. “The clock always punches back.”

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