Last performance review cycle, I got a "barely meets expectations"—something I could've avoided if I slept with my VP, but I liked to believe I had an unshakeable moral ground. I wouldn't be too sad ...  [+]

It began at a sports bar, the kind of place the realtor would call "happy-go-lucky." In other words, if your barstool wasn't sticky, assume it had just been swabbed clean by CSI. There was graffiti ...  [+]

The seventh day in my new flat, I found a worm in the fridge. It was flat, black and dead. I quite like interesting animals, but not this one – it looked remarkably like a leech. Where had it come ...  [+]