I don't want to be resentful, but I am. I shouldn't care, but I do. I know it's not personal, but still the resentment reigns. They tantalizing me with samples, then pull it away. Like the carrot to the mule, they keep me moving with promise of reward, then they cruelly yank it back. The mule wonders: does it deserve the carrot? Or will it soon be relegated to the divine obscurity of mindless labor, masticating dirty, trampled grass mixed brutally with the excrement of failure?