Peter goes to work.

Crazy woman thought Peter, as he fumbled with his keys. Crazy, stupid waitress, stupid keys, stupid job, stupid car, stupid everything! After finding the right key, Peter slumped into his white Oldsmobile Achiva and slouched for awhile as he built up the motivation to actually start the car and drive to work. Once he did, he reached for the ignition, and realized that he was no longer holding his keys. Crap, he thought, I'm the only one I know that loses his keys between unlocking the door and starting the car. After an annoyed search, Peter grumbled and headed for TW&Q insurance.
His job was a simple one which involved explaining to people why his company could not pay for any of their car repair bills, despite the fact that they give his company large sums of money every couple of months. It was not a very satisfying job; Peter spent a lot of time getting yelled at by his boss, and the rest of the time being alternately yelled at, sobbed at, pleaded with, and threatened with various torture methods by unhappy customers. The only real advantage of all this was free car insurance: depending on a customer's plan, a portion of their cash will be set aside to pay for insurance for TW&Q employees. This was made possible by complicated economic terms and lots and lots of paper work, and is probably the reason Peter got yelled at, sobbed at, pleaded with, and threatened so often.
Peter walked in just as his boss was walking out. "You're late!" he shouted, as Peter clocked in with the secretary. Peter was actually ten minutes early, but he didn't bother to reply. His manager would only tell him not to get smart, and, in a job like this, it was probably the best way to handle things. To get smart would be to get another job, and Peter was too apathetic to apply anywhere new, but his personal excuse was the free insurance.
The secretary, whose name is not important at the current time, eyed Peter and told him not to mind the manager; he'd just been having a bad day.
"You're obviously new here," replied Peter. "For him, every day is a bad day. And it's contagious. God, I hate this job."
The secretary frowned."Then why don't you quit, if you hate it so much?" she asked, as Peter walked toward the elevator that would take him to the 5th floor, where he would find cubicle 12a and begin to die a little more inside.
Peter paused and said, "free car insurance."
Quit, ha, thought Peter, as the elevater carried him up the metaphysical heavens and a metaphorical hell. And where would I go then? Back to school? Study for another few years, hopefully landing a life changing job, and ending up in another dead end? No, I'm not going down that trail again. Peter suddenly realised he had began a peculiar and specific inner monologue. Sheesh, this is pretty pathetic. I'm talking to myself in my head because of something no one important said. I must be losing it. After some careful thought, Peter deduced: No, I've already lost it. I don't think I've ever had it. I don't even know what it was. Oh well. Time for work. So ended Peter's introspection, and he sat down at his cubicle and began politely replying to the hundreds of e-mails recieved from hundreds of unhappy clients.