The office tower is right in front of you. You notice that the revolving door is now accompanied by automatic sliding doors on its side, probably to adapt to your presence as you don't know if you could pass through the revolving door without wedging your lower half awkwardly. You pass through the opened automatic doors, and head to the turnstiles, stumped as to how you could go through them until you see one of them replaced with automatic gates. You tap your employee card onto the sensor and the gates open. Entering the elevator, you see that your lower half takes up a lot of space, making the elevator more crowded even if it carries fewer people.
Once you arrive at your office, you clock in and find your cubicle down the aisle. The cubicle is now twice the size of the other cubicles, occupying an adjacent space that you remember was an empty cubicle due to the former occupant's misconduct. The chair is gone, like your room, and the table seems lower. Here, instead of sitting on your haunches, you lay your entire lower torso on the floor, in a crouching position. You begin to enter data from the stacks of paper in front of you into your computer. You notice the keyboard has a translucent plastic sheet laid over it, probably to avoid your claws scratching the key caps. Your muscle memory for typing remains unchanged, so you cruise through your task very well.
The process of data entry is straightforward but tedious and monotonous, as you find the process easily drilled into your mind already. Your tail is drooped on the floor, in the boredom you are in.
Of course the story doesn't end here. A co-worker comes by your aisle and puts a little pen on your desk, as your previous pen had ran out of ink. These kind gestures are what makes her so popular in the office. You feel your tail wagging in excitement, in front of her, no less, but she seems to ignore it completely.
Your more sensitive hearing enables you to eavesdrop on the gossip in the common area. "I heard Sernid showers only once a week." "Perhaps that's why he stinks so much." Your more sensitive nose doesn't pick up on anything noteworthy from the direction of Sernid's cubicle.
Lunch break arrives. While the coworkers bring out their elaborate lunchboxes, you pick out yours as well, only to find it containing… more… kibble. Maybe you could prepare a steak for yourself tomorrow. For now, you simply munch on the kibble to fill your stomach again.
The afternoon is net with your supervisor laying another stack of paper on your desk. You continue crunching the numbers into the computer. This is nothing exciting, but your lack of education disables all other options.
It's 6 p.m. Clocking out, you recall that your girlfriend is coming home from her trip to Japan today. Hailing and getting on the bus, you can't wait to get home and meet her.