253 new followers over night, 2 unfollowers, her tweet about the chicken in the supermarket Rted 89 times. Not the best start to the day but definitely not the worst.
She was still one of the people you had to follow. Her avatar coming up on new sign ups suggestions. Her #FF mentions through the roof.
No one really knew who she was. But the mystery added to it. The subversive high flyer who would tell the world exactly what fuck wittery would happen on a daily basis. How she was the one to sort the juniors mistakes. How ridiculous board meetings were. She. The living legend in her own TL.
And what a TL. She only followed the best. The other 'elites', the celebrity's (A listers, no spray tanned wannabes you know). She couldn't follow everyone back. 28000 and rising. So she had he group. Her select few. Her friends. The ones whose tweets mattered. Were interesting. Were Rted with a pithy comment attached (boosting her own RT score of course as her tweet would be Rted from there in in)
And people understood. They knew she was busy. That she couldn't reply to you all. There was many after all. Hell if she spent all day saying high to anyone who had responded to 'Morning bitchez' then she'd never get any work done.
So she ignored the little people. They were never interesting. Always the wrong type of sycophant...
'Oh hi, read you're tweet. Sooo funnny, love you'
'Can I have a follow back?'
Now she really would blocks those #TeamFollowBack cunts but, a blocked follower is a follower off the count and after all, every little helps. So they stayed. And she ignored. Muted. Talked to the people who counted. She was an elite after all.
'Dear god can Phoebe sort her gorilla legs out please?' * sneaky pic of colleagues legs, quick filter * twitter gold. Another golden tweet.
But it was time to go. She had a meeting.
'Loving you and leaving you. Important meeting with the medical division #Snogs'
With that she clicked her phone off. She couldnt take it to medical. Too many machines that cocked up so she passed it to a trusted colleague for safe keeping.
The orderly took her phone, pocketed it and got her on the trolley 'Come on Emily, ECT are waiting for you. Although why the hell Dr. Parsons lets you keep that damn phone I don't know. You fucking fruit cake'
She giggled and dribbled as she was pushed down the corridor 'I'm an elite you know! A FUCKING ELITE!!!'