I hate to keep addressing the Summers. I know they are too busy attending Braves games to read my lowly column, but in Big Firm World, there is hardly anything else to talk about during the 12 weeks of Summer Camp.
We Cogs have all been plowing through the year, trying to bill the minimum hours, staring blankly at the computer screen while trying to start a novel, avoiding being discovered as not worth our salaries and growing weary of making small talk with the same people on the elevator — day after day after day. The Summers help divert us from that monotony.
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