300 The Office

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There is a small storefront a block away from my house with an awning that says “The Office”. There are two desks inside, a couple of ancient computers, files piled up on the radiator, and walls stained yellow from nicotine.

When I pass by in the morning, it’s closed, but in the early evening there are normally a couple of old men hanging around. When I pass by late evening, The Office turns into a social gathering place with men inside smoking and drinking. It’s generally a subdued kind of thing, but one evening I saw a guy being forced to the ground, and everyone was screaming. Then there was that late night party, where I am sure I saw a stripper in there doing entertaining things.

The Office is more appealing than McDonald’s, as far as a place where old friends can hang out, but it also seems like the spot where neighborhood business gets taken care of Soprano’s style. One thing is for sure; the name “The Office” is amazing. It’s perfect cover for your night of drinking and frivolity. When the wife or girlfriend asks, “Where were you all night?”, “The Office”, you say without skipping a beat. It’s technically not a lie, and sounds completely legit.

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