Sheila finishes signing paperwork at her desk, stacking the forms in perfect piles according to priority. She seals an envelope, checks her e-mail and answers 2 phone calls in 23 seconds. She's flawless. She's on fire. When it comes to Data Management and Customer Care Representation, she's a dream.

Then 5 o'clock comes along. That's when the co-workers shuffle out with a wave and mumbled "see ya tomorrow." Leaving her alone.

She removes her glasses. Pins her long, stringy beige hair into a tight knot. Removes her bright blue suit jacket, rolls up the sleeves of her pressed white blouse.

She climbs under her desk, feeling for the seams in the carpet. Peels away a piece of loose carpet and pad, exposing a trap door roughly cut into the wood. A rudimentary handle has been attached by thick, rusty screws drilled at odd angles. She grips this and pulls. The trap door opens.