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I was not expecting quite the sound I got. I swear to you, it sounded like a shotgun blast, it was so damn loud.

I looked up guiltily, waiting for people to charge out from the offices all around, checking to see if I was okay. I steeled myself, trying to quickly decide what I would say. "Um, I was playing around with my ergonomic keyboard pad and I slammed it down on the marble to see what it sounded like." ... No. Couldn't say that. "There was this guy in here, and he had a gun, and I thought I was dead and that he would kill me but oh my god, he just shot once into the ceiling and got back on the elevator. It was the weirdest thing ever. I thought I was going to die!" ... No. Not that either. "What? What noise? What are you talking about? I didn't hear anything." ... Perfect.

I was ready. I was set. I was waiting for the masses to come check on me.

And no one did. Not one. Single. Person. No one came to see if I was laying in a bundled hump on the floor, bleeding from the shotgun wound to the abdomen--the wound just bad enough that I could have been saved if someone had come out of their office to stauch the flow of blood just two seconds sooner.

So thanks, coworkers. I feel really fuckin' appreciated and loved.