A weak pun
I made that old error, decried in the work of every philosopher in the Western and Eastern cannons: I got myself a job. Today has been my first day. I dressed in my best, and only, suit, polished my shoes and was into the office no less than 20 British minutes early. As I began my to perform the many small and harmless tasks I had been given I felt glowing with health. My mind began to dwell upon the money I was accumulating. What would I do with it? Would I buy a sandwich with lunch, or a pint after the working day was done? Perhaps I should book a holiday, or put in an order for a new BMW 3 series. I began to be concerned. I was only employed for six days, how would I keep up with the payments? I worked harder, eager to earn a long term contract so as I could continue with the spending that I imagined I would become used to. By 11am I was sweating and shaking with stress, as the weight of my responsibilities and financial burdens began to press down on me. I worked harder, but I became even more worried. I felt a tightness in my chest, and a jagging pain in my arm and side. An ambulance was called, and by 12.30 I was lying in a hospital bed.
'Doctor' I moaned pitifully 'am I going to die? I wish I had spent less time at the office!'
'Don't be silly', he reassured me 'you just seem to have come down with a mild case of Affluenza. You are clearly more susceptible than most. I'm putting you on a course of broad spectrum Monbiotics. Take two daily, with a copy of the Guardian and a cup of herbal tea.'
I think perhaps I will take next week off...
