UNDER HIS RULES: Trapped in his game
A man slid into the open space of my cubicle, leaning his hip against the edge of my desk with an ease that immediately set off my internal alarms.
He was dressed in an expensive suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, carrying an air of unearned confidence. His ID badge read Peter, Senior Logistics Analyst.
He was the type of office parasite who used charm to mask a total lack of substance.
“I’m Peter,” he said, flashing a practiced, charismatic smile that didn't reach his eyes.
He leaned in a little closer, trying to peer into my line of sight.
“You’ve got the whole floor talking, you know. It’s not every day a wildcard walks straight out of the unemployment line and into a direct appointment fr