If My Life Were a Role-Playing Game...

If my life were an RPG, this is how my typical day would go.

I would wake up in the morning exactly eight hours after going to sleep while standing next to my bed fully dressed. If I’d had any injuries, such as a cut on my thumb or a sore calf, they would be fully healed. I would have a lot of energy.

I would leave my house at a full run, neglecting to eat or brush my teeth or change my clothes. I’d head roughly in a straight line toward work, running through traffic, leaping over hedges, trash cans, or other obstructions. If I came to a river, and there was not a bridge in the immediate vicinity, I’d just swim across it fully clothed.

The door to the office, although locked, would open for me because I have the key in my pocket.

My boss would not ask me to do any work, even if he was right next to me, looking at me, until I chose to speak with him. He would also have no reaction to me jumping on his desk and kicking his stuff all over the place.

Though chairs are everywhere, I would not sit the entire day, even while working at my desk.

I would wear my coat and sweatshirt the entire day, regardless of the fact that it is much warmer in the office than it is outdoors. If I did decide to take off my coat, it would fall, neatly folded, next to me. Coworkers walking by would think nothing of walking over it or kicking it aside.

The visitor in the lobby looking for one of my coworkers would not just let me point the way down the hall to my coworker’s cubicle. He would insist I deliver a message to my coworker personally. He would wait in the lobby, perhaps for months, until I had delivered the message and returned to tell him I had done so.

After completing this task, and others, I would then be able to choose if I’d like to become slightly stronger, smarter, more durable, or more charismatic. (Sadly, I would not be able to choose to be a few inches taller.)

I would keep track of all my current, and completed tasks, no matter how trivial, in a journal I carried with me. When someone asked me to do something, I would write their instructions down, word for word, or perhaps make a recording of them speaking the instructions for future reference. Even incredibly important tasks would be unlikely to have a deadline.

If I decided to kill a coworker, it wouldn’t be a problem unless another coworker saw or heard me doing it. If they didn’t, I could then drag the corpse of my coworker around, or leave it in plain sight, and no one would say a thing about it.

I’d probably skip lunch, but if I decided to eat, I could choose from a large selection of food, like potato chips, fruit and vegetables, an entire ham, bagels, sandwiches, oatmeal, etc, all of which I am carrying in my pockets. I’d have no compunctions about eating something I’d found on the ground, or meat I’d been carrying with me for weeks. If I decided to have some wine with lunch, I couldn’t just have a glass: I’d drain the entire bottle in one gulp.

I’d talk to a few people at the office, though some, the ones I don’t know well and don’t really work with, wouldn’t have much to say besides a single sentence, like “I hear the supply cabinet on the second floor is a great place to find office supplies” or “Anytime I want to make a change to my health benefits, I visit Mary Tompkins in Human Resources.” Or, “Hello there!”

On the way home (running again), I might stop at the store for cigarettes. If I didn’t have enough cash on me, I’d simply sell some of my belongings to the guy behind the counter, such as spare ammunition, clothing, food, or a spare wristwatch, until I had enough money to cover the balance.

If I’d dropped something on the way to work, even if it was very expensive and left right out in the open, it would still be lying right where I’d dropped it.

I might talk to a few people on the way home. They might ask for my help with a sensitive matter, such as escorting their child somewhere, or delivering a message or item to a family member in another city. They’d absolutely trust me with this task, despite me being a complete stranger.

At home again, I’d run in the door, dump the items I didn’t want to carry on the floor, and head right for bed. (Actually, this isn’t that far from the truth sometimes.)