This poor guy isn't getting a raise... 'RatCorps' During the bustling for Ratropolis, Larry, the naked mole rat, adjusted his tiny glasses with his wrinkled paws, squinting at the pile of paperwork on his desk. His office was a cubicle jungle, each space filled with busy rodents tapping away at their keyboards. The fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow on Larry's hairless skin, making his pink, rubbery form look even more absurd amidst the sea of fur-coated coworkers.

"Another day, another dollar," Larry muttered, his voice a nasal drone. He grabbed a pen, its size comically disproportionate to his small, clawed hand, and began scribbling notes on a quarterly report. His beady eyes scanned the numbers with a keen, calculating gaze. Across the aisle, Jerry the gerbil leaned over his cubicle wall. "Hey, Larry, you joining us for lunch today? We're hitting up the new salad bar."

Larry looked up, his expression deadpan. "Jerry, does it look like I eat salads?" He gestured to his lack of teeth, his tone as dry as the office air. "I’ll stick to my insect protein shake, thanks."

Jerry chuckled nervously, backing away. "Right, right… you do you, Larry."

With a sigh, Larry returned to his work, the clicking of keys filling the room as the corporate grind continued. While still working, he realized that there was a new member walking around, "Hey there!", he shouted, trying to get your attention. What do you do?