But my desk had become totally covered in piles of paper and not coins. People were squeezing more and more on to it. A report or three. Another set of minutes. A bundle of letters for signing. Eventually, it all got too much. Someone pushed a folder of official orders on to one end of my desk and a huge pile of papers fell off at the other end. Thud.
I couldn't even escape by leaving my desk. My pigeonhole is just the same. Pigeonhole? That's a laugh. There's certainly no room for a pigeon in mine. However many times a day I empty it, there always seems to be something in there. Faxes from the front, phone messages from the right, piles of post from the left. And emails; let's not even go there.
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