Hehe, I was also a premie foot messenger for a while. I was supposed to be a motor-bike messenger, but they didn't have a bike yet. So I was meant to use taxis till my new bike arrived.
The office was place that generated ads, in the days long before Photoshop etc, and the people would cut up images and paste them on top of each other then photocopy their work to produce the ads. I was meant to take the ads to the relevant newspaper printers.
Only, there were hardly any messages. Busy day, maybe 3-4. So I had nothing to do. So I sat in the corner, cross-legged and meditated. They didn't seem to mind. When I was sent to deliver a message, I soon found out that the distances weren't that long, and I could run it faster than a taxi could get there. So I pocketed the taxi fares on top of my wage, and spent many hours a day meditating.
By the time the place had bought me a motor-bike, I had enough money to get to the new event, so I was gone...
I suspect they thought they'd hired a lunatic.
