Like carrying small, wispy pieces of paper around in your shivering cupped hands on a windy day in a busy city.  The air blows them around in your palms, but you try to keep them together, but also there’s so many.  Too many.  Sometimes one or a couple will fly out of your hand and into the cities’ innards, the pavement, the sewers, the benches, the shops, and you will have to look for them.  You search under every crevice, every embarrassing place you can think of, kneeling down in the wind and the step, cars honking, people staring.  The staring, it would be much better if they didn’t.  Sometimes you find them and sometimes you don’t but either way you lost TIME, hurry up hurry up, you need to deliver those piece of paper!  You don’t know what’s on them because you can’t read, but hurry, hurry!  It’s your future, no, it’s your life!  But don’t run because that might make papers fly also.  But y’know, stop dinking around and move a bit alright?  So you get to the door, it’s warm inside.  The wind is bothering other people now, you feel like smiling.  But then the papers are snatched out of your hand, counted.  You lost a great deal, even though you’re sure it was only a little and that you had most of them, but nope see here, the numbers don’t lie (they never do why would they?) and you lost a lot.  We know you try so hard and do so much but sorry, you only get quarter pay today.