I work at a bread company. My manager, Marten, comes up to me yesterday and says, yo, watch this vault door. Don't let anyone in. Don't let anything out. You sure as hell don't go in there yourself. I say okay, Marten, that's what I'll do, as far as I'm concerned, this door's a wall. This door's a wall he says? I bet you I can make it in there. I say no sir, you can't go in. Alright my chap, good boy, and he rubs my head with a grin. We have a close relationship like that, like father and son. He even says, thank you son. So he goes on his way, and I'm sitting next to the door watching it like a hawk, and though it may shake, and I hear terrible sounds from in there, I hold my ground, and when anyone walks down the hallway and they pass me and the door, I tell them, hey you, walking by there, this is not a door, but in fact it is a painting! They go on by, but my coworker Todd stops and says, hey let me into here, and when I tell him it was a painting, he goes all cockeyed and gives me a confused grin, well that sure looks like the door that was here last week. This belongs in an art museum! He goes and he grabs the whole building, and brings them all there, so I have a crowd to inform, this painting is part of the new collection gifted by the Willforshiremen Estate. Immediately, a terrible sound erupts from the painting, and the whole room shakes, and everyone stumbles, and they get angry like perhaps I am just putting them on, which I am, but I won't tell them that, so I say, that's enough for this exhibition, and I take the painting right off the wall and start dragging it right down the hallway, and I set it in a new area. I don't have to tell anyone now what it is, because everyone who walks by turns their head to their friend and says, you know, that is a painting, and I look them in their eyes and nod. My manager Marten even comes by and congratulates me on the promotion, I'm now the Senior Curation Director.