Gene and I are sitting in the unheated office, chafing our hands like two shivering Dickensian orphans, while I prowl around the onlines looking for jobs.
“Brr,” I say.
“Brr,” he agrees.
“It’s really just the first joint of my fingers that gets cold,” I say. “Everything else can be covered in sweaters and stuff. I need fingerless gloves.”
“Yes,” he says.
“Wait, I have fingerless gloves!” I remember. “But, oh, they cover my thumb. That won’t work, my thumbs are two of my four typing fingers.”
“Do you think it would be good to write in my cover letter that I want to work for this company because I’m pretty sure they have central heat?” I say.
Ha, ha, ha! We laugh.
But seriously, hire me. It’s cold in here.