The alarm goes off at 7:48 a.m. on my clock radio (real time: around 7:35). Actually the radio comes on. When I first started using this station as my alarm, I think it was country. Then it was Top 40 hits. Now it's 80s retro and easy listening. All guaranteed to get my ass out of bed to stop the madness.

A shower and shave later, I'm beginning to wake up enough to navigate through my surroundings without bumping into too many corners or pieces of furniture. A glass of juice, a quick read from Newsweek and I'm out the door.

The commute is between 15-20 miles. It takes between 20-25 minutes. I start out listening to the crunchy and loud New Rock station. It gives me the adrenaline to yell at the 78-year-old man to "Get the fuck out of my lane!" and since I know one of the DJs (his girlfriend works at my company), it's like listening to a friend. But when a commercial or bad song comes on, the tape goes in. On my way North on Tramway (a limited access highway between the interstate and my work place), I usually come across one or more of my co-workers speeding toward the inevitability of work. Sometimes we race and cut each other off, just for kicks.

A cup of hot tea (even during the summer) is my morning injection of caffeine. It isn't harsh enough to make me edgy, but it usually wipes away what is left of the night's cobwebs. I turn my computers on (I'm bi-platform: both Mac and PC), check my e-mail, change my desktop picture and go on the Internet to see if anything has blown up overnight and how the stock market is going.

If it's a busy day, I don't always do all of these warm ups. Sometimes I have important e-mails that must be answered or forwarded or investigated. Other times I just jump right into work, following the notes I left for myself the afternoon before. I occasionally have time to walk around the office and say "good morning" to a few of my co-workers, but lately this hasn't been the case. Sometimes I get morning greetings from co-workers on my e-mail. On Mondays, the mornings are filled with meetings, but almost every other day, I have to muster up enough gumption to get to work on my own. Of the twelve or so people who were full time when I started at this company almost three years ago, about four remain. My two bosses (one is my boss, the other is the CEO), the secretary (although I'm not supposed to call her this) and the woman who does coding (when I started she was my project manager, then an editor, now a coder). Everyone else is greener than me. There are over 30 of us now, and the group dynamic is more splintered than it used to be. This is out of necessity, really. We can't all be best of friends, and it would be impossible to maintain close relationships with everyone in the company. The bigger we get, the farther away some groups of people get from each other.

Work itself is a blur. Data entry and evaluation, word processing, graphic manipulation, layout, phone calls, meetings and jokes in the hallway. When I'm working hard, the hours fly by and my eyes don't blink as much as they should. Staring at two computer monitors tends to strain and dry out eyes. I have to look away, and when I do, I see the screen in reverse floating in space.

Lunch is a mixture. I have arrangements with some co-workers to have lunch together regularly. One of the guys on my team lives very close to work, and he hosts "Mario Cart" lunches, where people get quick food and try to digitally annihilate each other for a half hour or so. And other times, I just get some food from one of the many eat-a-toriums near the office and eat at my desk. Busy day lunches are usually of this sort.

Even with my dose of caffeine at lunch (a Dr. Pepper or similarly carbonated product), the afternoon is a downturn from the morning. More often than not, I am done working (in that I don't want to work anymore) by four in the afternoon. On days when I can't stop working, the afternoon gets interminably long and suffering. I lose focus. It gets hot in my office because I have western exposure. I begin to wonder if the day will ever end. And I usually send out desperate e-mails to some co-workers which occasionally end with "forty-seven minutes to go..." as we both count down to the end of the day. Isn't e-mail wonderful?

The last hour is a desperate attempt not to flee the building screaming before five. Almost every place I've worked is like this to an extent, but since everyone leaves at about the same time at my company, it's even more intense. We all have to hold it together before we split into all directions.

There are occasional happy hour drinks after work, but it's not consistent or as pervasive as the stories I've heard from some of the older people about when they were young office workers. There have been some changes in business etiquette over the last 20 years.

And as I drive home, reversing the direction from earlier in the day, I am relieved, if only for the opportunity to get away for a few hours before the day is repeated once again.

Matt Worley is now a Senior Research Analyst, but a graduation date has yet to be set.