The Ascent of Agnes

Agnes surveyed the wilting fern, a single bead of water (or perhaps a tear of existential dread?) clinging precariously to its crispy leaf. "Oh, this is just *sublime*," she murmured, adjusting her 'Employee of the Month' badge, which now felt less like an accolade and more like a warning label. "After successfully 'synergizing cross-departmental efficiencies' for two years, a task which, I might add, shaved precisely 17.3% off our annual paperclip expenditure, I've been entrusted with the monumental responsibility of hydration management for our botanical colleagues." She glanced pointedly at Mr. Henderson's office, where he was loudly detailing his weekend golf game to what appeared to be a stapler. "And let's not forget the intellectual rigor required for 'optimizing' the stationary cupboard! Who knew that categorizing highlighters by pigment saturation could be so profoundly... *character-building*?" A small, sardonic smile played on her lips. "Truly, my career trajectory is practically a vertical takeoff. Any higher, and I might just achieve full photosynthesis. At least," she added, giving the fern a pitying look, "you're not expected to pretend this is what you always dreamed of."