After her wrist pain complaint, she requested an ergonomic mouse. HR rubber-stamped it without a second thought. Feeling bold, I decided to try my luck. I did some "legal research" and learned about the interactive process. With new hope, I headed to HR.

Tabitha, our obese 43-year-old HR rep, was mid-donut when I presented my case. She didn’t even look up. “Get the fuck out of my office, you faggot.”

The next day, Lisa took her ergonomic mouse home, declaring it “personal medical equipment.” Now, every shift, she shows up with it nestled in her purse like a rare gem.

Today, as I painstakingly clicked through 100 item codes on a mouse older than the store itself, Lisa strolled by, sipping kombucha. She paused, smiled, and said, “Take care of your wrists, Evan. You only get one pair.”

Finished my shift with a numb hand and a rage-induced migraine. Leaned against the stockroom wall and whispered, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630870&forum_id=2:#48314821)