Stair Climbing My Way To a New Job

I was typing.


I don't know what was typing.  I mean, I knew then, but I can't remember now what it was.


I do remember that I was typing feverishly.  Whatever it was, I had to get it out.  Like a demon I needed to exorcize.  I had to get the thoughts and the ideas out of my head and onto the computer.


When I type I usually look at the monitor.  I confess it slows me down.  If I see a mistake I can't just let it go.  I have to go back and fix it.  But today I wasn't looking.  My hands were flying along a speeds I am not able to type normally.  I guess maybe they were draining all of the energy from the rest of me because I started to nod off.  I didn't close my eyes, exactly, but everything started to get cloudy while my hands kept going. 


The clouds swirled around like stirred liquid and then began to clear.  I was climbing a never ending staircase.  There was a woman in front of me. She was looking at a tablet she held in one hand and she was flicking a stylus with the other.  She was about three or four stairs ahead.  I confess I fell behind on purpose.  She was in a skirt.  I think she must have guessed my perverted scheme because she turned around and with this devilish look on her face she said, "If you want the job you'll have to catch up."


"Excuse me?" I said and stopped climbing.


She didn't respond, but kept going.  They were pink.


I jogged up a couple of steps to catch up.


"No fair," she said without turning around.  "You have to climb one step at a time.  It's healthier.  And you need the exercise."


I looked down at myself.  I was enormous.  How did I get this big?  I was gaining weight by the second. I felt like my clothes were getting tighter, like some kind of obese Incredible Hulk.  I was sure I was going to tear through them.  And each step was increasingly difficult.  I was...


too tired...


to keep going.


She turned around about ten steps ahead.  She struck a boyish pose she knew was beyond flirty.


"Business Incorporated cares about it's employees," she said.  "We want you... we need you in the pink."


I panted.


"Don't you want to be in the pink?"


I nodded.


"If you want the job you will have to catch up."


She turned back around and resumed walking up the stairs.  I started climbing again with renewed determination, but I only made a single step.  I just couldn't go further.  I watched her as she climbed the stairs and faded into swirling clouds.


I woke up with my head on the keyboard.  The screen showed a full page of the letter 'k'.  I scrolled up and it went on for seven or eight pages.  At the top of the document was the word 'pinkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk...'  There was nothing before that.


My legs were completely asleep.  How they had fallen asleep I cannot begin to know.  I was sitting normally.


"People who sit all day are more likely to die prematurely."


That thought popped into my head as my legs began to fill with the painful sensation of pens and needles.  Why is it that sometimes the sensation of a waking limb can tickle, while other times it's downright painful?


My pants felt tight.  A year ago these pants were loose.  I forced myself out of my chair and walked towards the stairwell in spite of the prickling feeling up my legs.  I started climbing.  One step at a time, no skipping and no jogging.


Climbing up stairs burns approximately .17 calories a step, with slight variations for your height and weight and age and all of that.  Going down is .005.


I climbed up to the ninth floor, which is where our steps end.  They did not go on into the heavens.  There was no scantily clad hotty ahead of me, coaxing me on to a healthier new life in a happier job.  I guess I knew there wouldn't be.  But I still stood there, frozen, until a guy stepped into the stairwell to take a personal phone call and snapped me out of my daze.


I think I'll take the stairs more from now on.