709, that's me. I have forsaken name and identity and become another figure in the corporate world. All that is important about me is written on a yellow time card which I have to remember to slip into a machine every morning and every night.
I am beginning to forget everything about the outside world. All day I type words and figures into the database, recording the results of a survey of workers from a large Australian company:
You people are a joke
I included a personal phone number in the last survey and you didn't call me. Why didn't you call me?
No one ever acts on these surveys anyway.
A. is a good place to work...
I hate my supervisor
Don't worry. All the results filled out on the survey will either by ignored or fed into the paper-shredder. And I will soon have forgotten the English language and speak in a new, clean, corporate language consisting solely of numbers.
43843754867329?
4643865923939439456838456932486874349636....
Actually, just between you and me, I do have a thing for the cute little office worker a few desks behind me. Her name is 467.
467, I just met a girl called 467,
And suddenly a name
Will never be the same to me,
467, 467, 467.
See you later. Er, I mean, 38745879549.57.
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