While working at the data slaughterhouse I kept a semi-regular notebook where I drew, wrote inane drivel and otherwise zoned out of meetings that could have been emails. Below is an excerpt from one such meeting with a particular consultant I held deep contempt for. Enjoy.
The Burrito Man is here. Like cattle we move quicker than we do all day long to inhale his horrible treats. To us chubby, chain-smoking, alcoholic welfare whores; his burritos are our cocaine. Pull that salsa out of your Ziploc bag, Burrito Man. Your burritos are garbage and I won’t even eat them hungover. Which I am.