The Coughing Fit of the Cheeseball Redux

The tall building loomed over the construction on the interstate. The fifth consecutive year of construction on the same spot of interstate. When construction finished to improve the interstate in 6 months they will start construction again. Inside the tall building the sounds of nothing echoed in the halls and one man secretly shut down his computer circa 1981. The man had enjoyed playing pong but the sheer joy was when he found the code to make the ball green. Of course with his monochrome green monitor he could not really tell but he knew, oh yes, he knew.
He slid his wool briefcase his Uncle had left him in his 1971 automobile. The automobile sat outside in the parking lot. The man knew the briefcase and the automobile yearned to be reunited. He leaned left on his chair, cringing at the creaks his chair made, and stared down the empty halls. He leaned back then shot his head back out the hallway. He thought he saw movement but it was only his mind playing that late Friday game it enjoyed.
He checked the clock on the wall. It read: 6:58 pm.
The small portly man got down in the sprinter's stance ready for when the clock struck 6:59. He was making a risky move but he was leaving a minute early from work. He glanced at the camera monitors to his right. The camera's were panning to the entrance of the parking lot. He could use this to get to his car.
The second hand passed the giant 10 on the clock. The man tucked his briefcase under his left arm. The clock struck 6:59...
The man bolted out the office and slid down the hall swirling his head left and right. He came to the IT main office door and leaped to the ground. He crawled on his belly passed the empty cubicles and used his nose to open the door. In one motion he slid out the door and used his right foot to slowly close the door with barely a click.
The big glass doors stared the man down with the fading sunshine coming through the doors. The man knew this was the trickest part. He took three deep breaths and rose to his feet. He took another deep breath and did a quick walk on his tip toes to the door. The entire way muttering himself, "No matter the sound, do not look back!"
He hit the door with his right shoulder and was out into the parking lot. Once on the concrete stairs he leapt into the prickly green bush to hide. He didn't like this part and he would be picking out thorns until next Thursday but it was part of the plan. He crawled out of the bush on his stomach and across the empty parking lot. He shot up and stood rigid behind the light post. Another quick breath and a dash to the truck of his car and in one motion slid under the car.
He laid the wool briefcase on his chest and opened it up. He pulled out the celery stick he had saved from lunch. He snapped the briefcase closed and wiggled his way to the driving's side door. He used his left foot to open the hatch and he slinked into his car and slouched to hide from the cameras. He quickly fastened his seatbelt and took a bite of the celery stick. He turned the key in the ignition which he had left in the car early this morning. The car sputtered to life and he tried to back the car out of the parking lot without being noticed.
Once clear he raised his hands in trimuph and headed for the crowded interstate.
It was 7:15 pm.