The book sat in front of me as I maneuvered between phone and computer screens. Seven spreadsheets were open in individual tabs and I moved information from sheet to sheet, trying to whittle the seven down to two coherent reports. One group would be accepted into a pilot program, the other would be politely informed that we'd had far more applicants than we planned to accommodate. If irony exists, it may well be found in this remaining detail: the pilot program was for people who feel rejected. My job now was to reject the rejects as well as to reject all notions of rejection. . Besides, last night had been the kind that turned into This Morning without warning- one or two quick tasks had turned into hours of fine tuning. And so, I had made the coffee extra strong this morning I found a sliver of resolve in the bottom of my third cup of tar. I would finish these reports and re-start my day anew after a shower. The phone rang as I scavenged the second floor for a ...