It was a tiny mistake. A lapse of judgement while I drove to work fuelled by caffeine, death metal, and anticipatory rage. I was only seven miles per hour over the limit, but it cost me my driving license.

“Sorry, Jacqueline,” spat Nigel, my boss, in a tone denoting no sorrow whatsoever, “but I must let you go. Platinum Estate Agency can’t condone recklessness, nor can agents attend viewings by bus, or God forbid, on foot. Vacate your desk.”