It’s like living in your office with your coworkers.
It’s like being able to leave whenever you like, but you have to take the three drunk guys from Accounting with you. You spend the entire trip saying, Shhhh, quit yelling! and We don’t call people fat, and on the ride back to the office you wonder why you ever tried to leave in the first place. It’s then you realize that one of them has pocketed a Sharpie from the grocery store and written all over the leather seats.
It’s like sleeping in an uncomfortable cot under your desk, on edge, waiting for some emergency to happen. And when it does - at 3AM - you are the one obligated to roll out of bed and deal with it.
It’s like having your coworker yell from the bathroom that he refuses to come out until you help him wipe his ass. When you decide you can’t persuade him any differently, you find he’s gone but has left a giant mound of toilet paper in the bowl.
It’s like taking phone calls from clients while the drunk guys from Accounting set up a limbo pole next to you using the curtain rods they’ve ripped from the wall. You give them “the look” just as they strip off their clothes and streak through the office, but they know you can’t do anything for at least 45 more seconds.
It's like deciding you'd rather walk through the office all day in your pajamas, with greasy hair, and smelling like BigFoot's armpit than to risk taking a shower while anyone is still awake and potentially causing trouble.
It’s like making dinner for everyone only to find that the office microwave has been crusted with a layer of cheesy gordita and tuna sandwich. By the time you scrub the foul mess and feed everyone, you realize there is no food left for you. You scrounge up a 2-year-old pack of peanuts from a desk drawer and eat them quickly in the corner before your boss tells you to clean up the water running down the hall that is a suspicious yellow color.
It’s like having a coworker who is always calling in sick right before projects are due, so you have to do all of your work and his. When you go to make copies, you have to wipe off the surprisingly sticky ass print left on the copy machine by one of the drunk guys from Accounting. And clean up the poop he left in the fichus plant.
It’s like fantasizing about ways to hook up and pull the office espresso machine behind you.
It’s like being complimented by the office pervert for having a giant rack and thinking that’s the nicest thing that’s happened to you that morning.
It’s like having your boss pull you into her office every day to tell you that you “don’t really work anyway,” and that a non-English-speaking ten-year-old could do what you do. When you ask why she doesn’t just hire a child immigrant and let you go, she says she won’t let you out of your contract. And she informs you that the job pays nothing except the “benefit” of not having to find another job.
It’s like having this day repeat itself, weekdays and weekends. No sick days. No holiday time. Every day exactly the same.
It’s a little like that.
7 comments:
some days feel like the movie groundhog day!
Ooh, I love that movie! We need to get together with the kids during the week and watch fun old movies while the kids play. I just bought Fletch, or as Mike calls it: Feltch. I dare you to google what THAT means...
Thanks, thanks alot. I just had to google it. Thanks - I think I might be scarred for life now.
This is exactly why you need to come meet up with us tomorrow!!!
ick...just googled. learn something new every day :) yes we need to get together, i haven't felt like myself all week, probably be good for me to get out of the house! maybe next fri?? can't wednesday-ty has a couple appts in iowa city-hopefully he will 'graduate' from neonatology high risk follow-up!
I think you should knee the boss in the nuts the next time he says you "don't really work anyway."
Oh my god, this had me laughing hard - quietly - because everyone else in my house is asleep - but hard. Thanks for that. I'd like my husband to read it.
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