Earlier today I tried to download pages from this diary into some kind of text file. So the program said it was downloading, but then I couldn’t find anything on my computer. I did a search of “livejournal” and then a search of “corporate” and found an old word document titled “Corporate Casual Midget”. I opened the document and this is what I found:
On the street Maston saw a little midget walking with his normal sized friend. The little midget was wearing a tan, button-down shirt and dark gray wool pants. Corporate casual midget, Maston thought to himself. Look at that little corporate casual midget there, he thought. Boy. People in bad movies, or old copies of Mad magazine, theyâ??d see a giant standing next to them and ask Howâ??s the weather up there, and think themselves very funny. But Maston wanted to know about the weather down there, and didnâ??t think it was very funny at all. Could you smell different things at crotch level? You thought like an adult but saw through the eyes of a child. Even if Maston got down on his knees, he could never think anything other than Iâ??m on my knees here, this is what things look like when Iâ??m on my knees. And he could never move with any particular agility like that, no one could. Knee walking is hard and not much fun. A midget could cut through that half space like a wire through cheese, a short, well dressed wire.
How cheap it would be to drink as a corporate casual midget, Maston thought to himself. One drink and youâ??d practically be smashed, I bet. Oh, the life of the corporate casual midget, the darling of your co-workers. Everybody would say Hey there guy, howâ??s things for the Little Big Man? But how hard he must have worked to get that job, Maston realized, what a struggle it must be. Imagine sitting through a job interview, as smart as the next guy, as professional a demeanor, as snappily dressed, but youâ??re a midget and the other guy is totally regular sized. He might even be a bit dumber than you, because you worked your ass off in college, being a midget and all. But the drinks, Maston couldnâ??t get over the idea of being drunk every night for a couple of bucks. He himself was up to five, six drinks. Thirty dollars plus at the bar, and still at least nine or ten if he drank beers at home.
Oh corporate casual midget. Ha ha. You are so tiny!