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About Iasi

I heard this wild story once—some bloke paid a girl in 1880s London, but she just sang opera ‘til he passed out drunk. Robbed him blind! Laughed my ass off—smart lass. Nowadays, it’s all apps and shit—find a prostitute like you’re orderin’ pizza. “Extra sauce, please!”—hah, kills me. Still, I’d be paranoid—cash only, no cards, don’t want my bank judgin’ me. “Zero, my hero,” I’d mutter, countin’ bills like Gustave dodgin’ cops.

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Back at the office, I’m trying to focus, but my mind keeps wandering. I start daydreaming about moving to the coast. I mean, who wouldn’t want to chill by the sea instead of staring at spreadsheets? But then I snap back to reality. Gotta finish these reports.