Excellent writing. Poignantly haunting.
I am in the year 2050, in this windowless room where human dissection units are tightly lined up, one-after-the-other. Any spacious rooms, work places, or offices only exist for the corporate CEOs, managers or money makers. They work in comfort, while I, a highly trained surgeon with real skills, am jammed into a factory-style cubicle surrounded by a massive array of dissecting instruments.
There’s lots of grumbling about our work situation. Am I upset? Not to the casual eye. Everything about this gal shouts team player:
1- I dress in department scrubs that can be easily discarded if they get messed up.
2- I have one formal department white coat that not only helps me remember I’m a qualified medical individual, but I can look like one when I wear it to department meetings.
3- I smile at the appropriate moments, even though there’s not much I want to…
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