10 Minute Story Written in 10 minutes during my fiction writing workshop last night. I wanted coffee. Twelve of us sat around the conference room table. We argued about budgets, strategies, and deadlines and were getting nowhere. Our boss, who had previously told us to arrive at this all-day session without cel phones or laptops, was adamant about sticking to a strict schedule that included short and structured break periods. I didn't need to pee. I didn't need to return a phone call or check phone messsgaes. I just wanted a coffee. I knew that his administrative assistant had brought a tall coffee urn and left it outside the meeting room door. I knew that she had also left donuts, bagels, and a selection of fresh fruits, but these didn't interest me. I wanted the coffee. I could smell it. It would take me less than fifteen seconds to pour a cup and return to the meeting. Instead of following the conversation, I debated whether I should defy my boss. "Where are you going?" he'd say. "Just coffee. Won't be a minute," I'd reply. "We'll waste too much time. Everyone will want a cup. We'll lose focus." "Why don't we break now?" I'd ask, looking for approval among my colleagues. They would keep their eyes focussed on the conference room table, unwilling to unite with me against my time-tyrant boss. "Union" would be the word I would write on the copy of the PowerPoint presentation in front of me and I would leap up onto the table in honour of my favourite movie heroine, Norma Rae. Somewhat stunned, my colleagues would... * * * * * * What would Maggie's colleague's do?

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