autobiography second person

You sit at that laptop acting like you know what you’re doing. Fingers pounding away at the keyboard making clickity- clackity noises which sounds like you are typing a hundred a hundred miles an hour. But in all actuality, most of the words are underlined in red because they’re spelled wrong! You are going as fast as you can because you know the man wants the report. Maybe you ought to take another keyboarding class; maybe that will make you go even faster.
Here comes the man wanting the report. You keep telling him he will get the report when it’s due yet the man continues to ask, “is it done, is it done yet, are you done yet”, like a child in the backset of a car asking “are we there yet, are we there yet” Patience runs thin and for a fleeting moment, very bad things cross your mind. But instead, you lift your head, smile at the man and say yes, it is nearly done; you will have it by day’s end. The man who wants the report leaves the room; you exhale a huge sigh of relief and remember the days of riding in the backseat of your parent’s car, wishing you were there.