tap my foot nervously on the shiny marble floor as I watch the numbers descend. I'm going to be late... again. It really wasn't my fault. I'd had my hours swapped with George this week, so he could leave work in time to pick his kids up from school, while his wife recuperated from surgery. I now needed to be in the office by 10.00 instead of 8.30. You'd think that would make me early. However, since I was finishing later, I'd tried to get to the gym in the morning. Well that was a mistake. It was either shower and be late, or skip the shower and arrive stinky and sweaty. I figure that my coworkers would prefer a late me, than a pungent me.
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