Chapter 7

My eyes glazed over when I ended up reading the same line in this wastewater management manual for the third time. Rubbing my temples, I glanced at the clock on the wall across from my desk.

11:45. I still had five more hours of work. A workday had never moved so glacially as today.

I didn’t hate my job. As a technical writer at a large engineering firm, I received a good salary and benefits. I had regular hours. I could take vacations; I had sick leave. We could even invest in the company’s stock options, if we felt so inclined.

I’d been fortunate enough to get this job right out of college. I’d been told how lucky I was, given the economy and that I had little work experience. Be grateful you found full-time work right away.

I’d seen my friends and peers struggle to find jobs while I started making a cool fifty thousand a year. Not a fortune, but enough to support myself.

“Mari, have you finished editing that manual?” said my boss, Leslie, as she stopped by my cubicle.

“Not yet