Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

I’m in Web Mastery.

All is quiet, everyone is working, except for the noise generated by the boy sitting next to me.  On his screen there is a file open that displays a row of image icons at the bottom of the screen, above that are small command icons (last, next, rotate left, rotate right), and above those is the enlarged version of the selected image icon at the bottom.  The boy sitting next to me is staring at this and mindlessly clicking away at the ‘rotate right’ icon.  Everyone is quiet, everyone is working, and this kid is emitting an endless stream of heavy handed clicks. Click. Click. Click. Click.  He selects the second image.  Click. Click. Click. Click.  He select the third image.  Click. Click. Click. Click.  He pauses.  There are only three images in the file.  The appearance of serious thought comes over his face.  Cobwebbed gears screech and turn in interlocked motion, attempting to access those problem solving skills taught to him in adolescence and so rarely utilized since.  His brow slightly furrows, his eyes stare blankly at what ever is in front of him, a slight wrinkling at the sides of his eyes indicate strain.  And then it goes away, his eyebrows raise a degree; he has reached a conclusion.  He selects the first image.  Click. Click. Click. Click.

I swear, if he doesn’t fucking cut it out, I’m punching him in the mouth.

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