Though it’s true that you only live once, that’s really an oversimplification. Because you live only once, but in many manifestations simultaneously throughout the corners of the multiverse. What bugs me, though, is that this version of me is stuck in a part of the multiverse with positively dismal outcomes.

Basically, it comes down to this: I hate my job. It’s a one-dimensional job totally unsuitable for a multiversatile talent like me. Why do I spend my days filing?

It was time to do something so I asked for a meeting with The Management. Not The Management at my employer—that would be useless. My appointment would be with The Management of The Multiverse. I was looking to make a move, a transfer to the universe next door.

Me: I’m not satisfied with my lot in the universe to which I’ve been assigned. Would it be possible to move next door to a better job?

Management: That position is occupied by another you.

Me: Perhaps the other “me” could go on a vacation, or better yet, an extended leave of absence.

Management: And when he returns?

Me: We can deal with that when it happens.

Management: [silence.]

Me: Please?

The Management looked dubious but went along with my request, muttering under his breath, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Which, of course, I didn’t.

The next day I woke up in another dimension and went to work. My coworkers were surprised to see me. They thought I was on hiatus.

I was no longer filing! And I wasn’t reporting to the same asshole! I was typing and I was reporting to a different asshole.

Still, it was a refreshing change. I chatted by the water cooler, took cigarette breaks (and took up smoking), and wasted hours pleasantly surfing the web. As a file clerk in my previous universe, all of this was prohibited.

This was great until Celine came by. She told me she had the checks and wanted me to sign the backs. I didn’t remember a thing about the checks, being new and all. But Celine didn’t know that and I just signed them. She came by later and gave me some cash. Whatever. Supplemental income.

Anyhow, now I’m living my one life wearing an orange jumpsuit in a cell. Celine was duplicating checks, altering the payee to my name and cashing them after I endorsed, and splitting the proceeds with me. Generous but illegal.

I still think this is better than being a file clerk. Who knows? Maybe they’ll release me when the other “me” returns.