Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a relentless, irritating drone that matched the thrumming in Michael’s temples. He gripped the edge of the conference table, his knuckles bone-white. They’d brought *him* in - fresh out of some university program, brimming with enthusiasm and ideas about "synergy" and "disrupting the market." Michael had been doing this job for seven years. Seven years of late nights, missed lunches, and the slow, grinding satisfaction of a job well done. And now, this…this eager beaver.

He took a sharp breath. "Right, let's start with the CRM system," Michael said, his voice clipped. He gestured towards the monitor with a deliberate, slow movement, each finger splayed wide.

His stomach clenched. He could practically feel the younger man's eyes, wide and expectant, boring into him. This was a joke, a cosmic prank.