I have a $2,000 new iPhone with supposedly upgraded imaging/camera capabilities but four shots later, this container of Nutri-Grain high protein cereal still looks like dog biscuits. Or little square turds.

And I’m exhausted. No one knows though, no one can tell. I am warm, friendly and efficient on the phone. I feel I can save someone’s life over the phone if they happen to be right on the ledge of a building and ready to jump. You’ll be fine, I murmur. Everything’s going to be fine.

By 2pm, the Nutri-Grain has revealed its true nature; in spite of the high protein it claims to have, it is nothing but sugar. I’ve burned it all off and I feel like I’m dying. My veins seem emptied of blood and I feel light-headed. The person over the phone that I’m in a meeting with thinks she’s being efficient by deliberately not believing in what I’m saying. After the meeting finishes, she starts to say goodbye and I hang up before she could finish, the fucking bitch.

Lunch options after 12pm are scarce; Burger King (vomit), the Z fuel and service station (pretentious craft artisan pie & overpriced sandwiches) and the cafe across the road run by an Asian guy with the squarest shaped head I have ever seen on a person. I choose the cheapest (Asian guy’s cafe).

There is nothing left in his cabinets save for a chicken kebab, a spicy chicken nugget in the shape of a lightning bolt and some sandwiches. I pick the first two along with an egg sand-which.

At 4pm, I feel even worse. I feel like I want to vomit. The 4pm summer sun outside looks like noon in another country like maybe fucking Saudi Arabia. Nothing is worse than a stomach-full of shitty, greasy food in the summer, inside an artificially cooled environment.

Four-thirty arrives and you hear the shuffling of people getting ready to go home.

See you tomorrow for the meeting a colleague calls out. Yup, see you tomorrow I reply, cool, calm and as happy as a goddamned cucumber.

(PS: I did vomit when I got home, crawled into bed at 8 and called in sick the next day)