From CEOs Don’t Cry:
“Could this dayget any worse?” Leslie Knotts muttered to herself, eyeing the watermark-circledhole in the ceiling tiles above her head. Thudding and a muffled expletive rumbled from the hole.
She yanked hercashmere scarf from her neck and stomped the slush off of her Prada heels. She took one look around her new office inthe Carterville Branch of Hanston and Boyd Accounting and gasped. This placewas a phone call away from being condemned.
Someone shoved thefew pieces of furniture haphazardly to the side in favor of a paint-spatteredladder and water stains marked the paneling and the worn carpet.
Asthe jingling of the bell on the door died away, something scraped against theceiling above her and dust sifted onto her hair. Leslie snatched the handle of her Coach briefcaseand backed into the door, jangling the sleigh bells on the handle again. If a rodent appeared in the hole, she woulddrive all the way back to Chicagotonight. She forced herself to take adeep breath, murmuring to herself rats didn’t swear.
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