Milo Burke, a development officer at a third-tier university, has “not been developing”: after a run-in with a well-connected undergrad, he finds himself among the burgeoning class of the newly unemployed. Grasping after odd jobs to support his wife and child, Milo is offered one last chance... read more
This author really beats himself up quite effectively. A study in not succeeding in the office, but writing a very good book.
“yes1”
“We are going to eat ice cream and we are going to eat shit. The trick is to use different spoons.”Highlighted by 36 Kindle customers
Stories were like people. We pretended they all counted, but almost none of them did.Highlighted by 28 Kindle customers
“No, I mean, if I were the protagonist of a book or a movie, it would be hard to like me, to identify with me, right?” “I would never read a book like that, Milo. I can’t think of anyone who would. There’s no reason for it.”Highlighted by 24 Kindle customers
You pay a whore to make you feel like a man, you fund a philharmonic to make yourself feel like a refined man.Highlighted by 22 Kindle customers
Child care was like everything else. You got what you paid for, and your child paid for what you could not pay for.Highlighted by 20 Kindle customers
I lost out to kids who lived on hummus and a misapprehension of history, the bright newbies bosses exploit without compunction because these youngsters are, in fact, undercover aristocrats mingling with the peasantry, each stint entered on their résumés another line in the long poem of their riskless youth.Highlighted by 19 Kindle customers
I’d become one of those mistakes you sometimes find in an office, a not unpleasant but mostly unproductive presence bobbing along on the energy tides of others, a walking reminder of somebody’s error in judgment.Highlighted by 17 Kindle customers
We were stuck between meanings. Or we were the last dribbles of something. It was hard to figure. The fall of the Soviet Union, this was, the death of analog. The beginning of aggressively marketed nachos.Highlighted by 15 Kindle customers
But no matter my conversational machinations, I knew the truth. Nobody ever mentioned it, of course. It meant not much. Physical bravery probably held the same value in our milieu as skill at parallel parking: a useful quirk. But the box score stayed in my wallet, or the wallet of my heart, so to speak, a smeared and origamied scrap to remind me how little I resembled the man I figured for the secret chief of my several selves.Highlighted by 15 Kindle customers
You really had to hustle to recruit the right people to prop up your delusions, but the moment somebody broke ranks, or just broke for a protein shake, the whole deal teetered.Highlighted by 14 Kindle customers
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