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Dec 12The Curse of the Night of the Ticket That Wouldn't Die
by in Feature Articles on 2013-01-14“232632, in the flesh. I’ve waited a long time.”
Matt started at the voice over his shoulder. He turned to find a college-age girl at the threshold of his borrowed cubicle, with an intense and nearly crazed look in her bloodshot, bag-laden eyes. Matt had no idea who she was. That was true of most of the people in this office. He was a roving consultant, who had arrived earlier that morning on one of his semi-annual onsite visits for software training and support.