Step 2: Set All Worries from Life Free (White)
How do you know when you've become a total workaholic?
You ask for the hotel's wifi password immediately after checking in.
You survived on coffee, but it's now too weak; you move to energy shots.
You have a close call with Arceus after an overdose of B vitamins.
You refuse to take sick leave and continue to do your job.
You're closer to your Xtransceiver and laptop than your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse.
You've moved your whole bedroom to your office space: posters, bedsheets, bed; the whole lot.
You suffer panic attacks and hallucinations when you miss an important call.
You slap yourself silly for taking the five minutes from work to write this shit-awful list.
I'm grateful the BW Agency has exploded the way it has. Business has never been better. I just need an assistant to manage this massive business. Black wasn't much help after all that Team Plasma fiasco."Sorry, Boss, gotta do more training! Y'know, for next year's league!" Ha. Great, go on, yeah, nice move, oh yeah, you're fired!
I wondered if I even should have gone to this fucking party in the first place. I only came here because Black persuaded be too. "Boss! Boss...If you don't go I'll shout about the Pokémon league in your ear for ten hours!" What am I, as a Pokedex holder? Most of these people are either half-ass kids who just happened to get it by personal connections, or the true battle junkies who are just total jerks to spend time with. I just happened to be given the Pokedex by Bianca; what a shame she wasn't invited.
None of these people here have ever done anything really productive with their lives; what good's a life of a Pokedex holder, a life of Pokémon battling? Okay, there are some notable exceptions to the battlers; I just talked with Ruby a while ago. But I guess I've had a different kind of connection with Pokémon in showbiz—work. Work. Must remember to check that e-mail. Did I return that call? Better double check to make sure. Is Bubu-chan still set for next week's musical? Shit, forgot to write that thank-you letter to the event planner.
"Boss! You okay? D'you need Musha to bite your head?"
I snapped to attention, to see Black's face in front of me.
"Dinner's ready outside at the patio. Everyone's heading out. You coming?"
"Erm…yeah, Black. Just…hold…I'll be there in a minute." My assistant went back outside.
The foyer suddenly became eerily quiet—work. What a nice setting for a production! For a ghost movie…or a Poke-romance feature! That would be so cute! Slap!
I slapped myself. Hard. I woke up. How am I gonna walk out there with this bruise on my face? I began heading towards the muffled commotion from the patio.
Must. Learn. To. Turn. Off. Work. Must learn to turn off the motherfuckin' switch. C'mon White! Treat this as an assignment of yours. That's it. Now go have fun.