A.L Oser, a dying octogen curmudgeon whined and griped in a meandering ten minutes covering office issues, especially the water cooler and access points. The one floor office itself was a musty mess, an off color moody blue that would fit a crank known for his alcoholism. Also, his plump girl had not kept her 3pm appointment days before. I decided to pass on the position. Oser kicked the bucket a number of months later.
