When I was a teenager, I worried about every little pimple, but as with poor Jimmy here, those pimples were the least of my worries.
I hate making a fuss at the best of times. Maybe it's out of consideration of others. Maybe it's having a low estimation of my significance. Or maybe it's pure paranoia that this might happen.
There are those times when we see something that seem to defy explanation. Just for a moment, we see something completely extraordinary, and we begin to reevaluate what the universe really is made of. If that feeling of wonder could last forever, just imagine how wonderful life would be.
After I drew this, I think I recall seeing a comic very similar if the past, with a suggestion box instead of a mail box. Maybe I did, or maybe it's just so painfully obvious a gag that I can imagine it all too easily.
Of course I wasn't thinking of someone in particular when I thought of this. That wouldn't be a very positive attitude to have toward workplace relations. In fact, I was thinking of a few different people when I thought of it - because as the man said, 'every workplace has one.'
There it is - the eternal triangle. The hunter, the prey, and the chicken who realises that he is quite likely to be the prey in the near future, but feels very much like being the hunter.