I am a hamster.

Whoever gave our management committee the bright idea of posting monthly excel spreadsheets on our intranet which keep a running count of everyone's billable hours is an evil fucking genius. I check those damn things more assiduously than sports scores now. Now when I walk by someone in the hallway, I can smugly think to myself that they're the worthless chump that billed less than two hundred hours last month, and I'm not. I bet the management committee is out on a yacht somewhere, drinking cristal while being fellated by well-endowed brown people, and laughing their asses off about how easy it is to punk out all the psychotic junior associates who take friendly competition a little too seriously.