‘NOT Safe For Work, Doug,’ your boss told you earlier this morning, spotting what his pervert’s brain instantly processed to be sloppy pornography.
There was shocked silence in the row of cubicles as his voice boomed over the tinny elevator music and at least eight people, glancing across the room at your exposed monitor, recognized your girlfriend elbow-deep in a mass of clay on a pottery wheel.
‘You mean we can’t look at pictures of pottery, now,’ said one of your coworkers. ‘But this is the Pottery Warehouse.’
Strange how lumps of clay like regional manager Toby always float to the top.
Photo by Jade Scarlato on Unsplash