THE HELP DESK • by Todd Wells
It was quiet. Usually by now they’d be putting the screws to me, but I’d already been at my desk for half an hour and, like a Minnesota duck pond in the middle of August, nothing had gone south yet.… Continue Reading
It was quiet. Usually by now they’d be putting the screws to me, but I’d already been at my desk for half an hour and, like a Minnesota duck pond in the middle of August, nothing had gone south yet.… Continue Reading