My Insolence Towards Corporate Trash Collectors

by Surname T Legacy

God.

You think you are so much WORSE than I am.

Just because I make all this money and have more flat screen displays on my desk than you have months in this country, you have this righteous feeling of inferiority, that you somehow get to stand below me. Well, I’m onto it and quite sick of it. El juego is up my dear and I will now fight back.

I have taken to deliberately throwing actual trash into the recycling bin below my desk. Non-confidential recycleables go into the shredding bin. Oh yes, your lovely order is completely messed up. You were so smug in your inferiority, slicing me with your covetous glances as you strolled in, and I strolled out. Now I strike down those furtive glares with my knowing insolence.

You may have noticed sometimes I put papers directly in between all three bins. This is no mistake. I know the panic it sets off in your core.

“Which bin¿” you whisper to yourself, very spanishly. That is a good question. Which bin, indeed.

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