At one point I had a roommate who worked a day job as a pharmaceutical rep. Every morning he would be up and at 'em in a suit and tie toting around canvas bags and rolling carts full of samples and pharma-literature. Off he'd go in his company car to wine, dine and shmooze manhattan doctors into writing more scripts for his drug. The evenings were a different story altogether but no less sociopathic. He spent them barking at the moon...literally. He was an artist and the genesis of his paintings was how he was a real life werewolf! Needless to say this made for an interesting home life rife with unpredictable mood swings, delirious flights of fantasy/paranoia and a constant simmering threat of violence.