Boss: Yea, that's the one.
After the boss leaves, I’m alone in the office. I'm secure all right--secure in the knowledge that I probably won't be leaving this office until my 60th birthday. Then perhaps I might take a few hours off to walk my dog, who by that time will undoubtably have died from a rupture bladder.
I wake up screaming. I think my wife is still ugly and mean in this dream, but I didn't see her often enough to remember.
AT LAST, I begin to dream of The Ultimate Job, which combines my true ambition with the incidental security of never being hungry.
Boss: Son, we at "Peter's Piping Hot Pizza, Inc." need someone like you to hang out and eat pizza all day in order to help us detect any lapses in quality. We are dedicated to producing the finest product, and we think you would be an invaluable asset to the team.
I wake up smiling. In the dream I live happily ever after with my beautiful wife, although I am now quite ugly because of pizza grease-induced acne.