It happened a few days back. I was 15 minutes late to office. And in my standards, 15 minutes late is equal to 15 minutes since the super boss has arrived, and now the attendance register is in his room. So you got to enter his fortress in his observation, and sign the attendance register as he passes some sarcasm and a note, maybe. Moral of the story: Leave the taxi back in Jam, run like a horse, and reach the office sweating, possibly thinking excuses what made you late today to reach the office. Traffic Jam has nowadays become a cliché and is rarely accepted. I left the taxi 1 km away from Beckbagan and decided to speed up through walking. I took an unknown path to reach the office. I was rushing, cursing and sweating. Given a chance, my immediate boss would love to feed me to super boss, provided he was a cannibal. I suddenly stomped on a pile of cow dung. It was fresh cow dung. Soft like tart, warm like curry. (I really suck in explaining si...
bhai amazing pencil work hai
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