What the fuck? It’s another Monday. In honor of this start to a new week, I offer for your consideration how last week started. This is a true story. Only the pains have been changed to molest my innocence.
It’s Monday morning. I am feeling physically ill as I get ready for work and haul my ass across town. Don’t worry – the manifestation of physical symptoms is routine for me.
As I walk in front of the business towards the door, I can already hear the raised voices of Boss and Cow Orker through the wall. I heave a heavy sigh. I already know that which awaits.
Summoning a herculean burst of will, I push open the door and walk into the office, making sure I avoid the omnipresent canine creature which, against all reason, is allowed to inhabit our work place every single day of my working life.
Boss and Cow Orker are engaged in a lively and riveting discussion about a video on YouTube of a hunter who blew accidentally his head off with a shotgun. (It sounds a lot like a clear case of hunticide). Even I have to raise an eyebrow at this coincidence since before leaving for work, I had read two stories of hunting accidents and tweeted my latest invention, the word “hunticide.” One story was about a hunter who fell off a platform and died. The other was about a young man who drowned while duck hunting.
The video under discussion was about a guy who was target shooting with a shotgun, blew away two targets, but nothing happened when he fired at a third. He apparently found this curious, and he turned the gun around and peered right down the barrel. As you might guess, that’s when the thing finally decided to go off. Ooops. Bad luck, mate. Even I know more about range safety than that. There just might be a downside about getting a little too comfy with your gun.
Anyway, as usual, neither of these overly-assertive verbal bullies likes to back down when the other tries to talk, so they kept getting louder and louder as they interrupted each other non-stop. Their normal tactic when someone else tries to talk is to get louder and keep yapping. This tried-and-true method works on most of the civilized world, but not each other. The decibel levels were going through the roof as the each vied to “out volume” the other.
It was so friggin’ loud I literally cringed from the sound before my ass even reached my chair.
I made my way to my desk and sat apart from them, proactively ignoring both of them and their inane prattle. They were more than happy to do the same. There was no look of acknowledgement, no morning greeting – literally no sign at all that any of us had recognized the existence of the other.
Despondent, I proceeded to go about the business of psyching myself up for the day. It’s my normal procedure (when I’m not ambushed): turning on the computer and prepping my coffee. This is followed by the “dailies” – a scan through emails, reviewing the TTD list, and checking the office for accumulated tasks. This is generally when you can glean the type of day that lies in wait. Will it be light? Heavy? A goatfuck up the ass?
One of the emails was from the boss regarding an incredibly insipid and vapid new task. He has a penchant for things that do nothing to move the company towards any meaningful goals.
I was doing my best to remain invisible as their bullshit conversation finally petered out. As usual, this took the form of Boss getting bored and turning his back on Cow Orker while she was still talking. Apparently there is no honor among douchebags.
Suddenly, Boss became aware I was somehow existing in the universe. The time had come to teach me the meaning of life, Boss-style. He turned towards me and started the rapid-fire barrage.
Much to my dismay, we had bumped into Boss and his family last Friday night at a new restaurant. Awkward! So he started things off by feigning interest in me. “What did you guys have?” he asked.
Like an idiot, I tried to reply. “All sorts of things…”
Pounce! He interrupted and stopped the shit of my sentence. “Yeah yeah yeah. We had this. We had that. My wife ordered the blah blah blah and thought they were a little small.”
Funny, but I never did tell him what we ate that night, even though he had fucking asked. Clearly he couldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. His verbal exchange was cleverly disguised as a question but was never intended to be anything more than an opening for him to talk about himself. Classic Boss.
That bit of subjugation of me as a person completed, he immediately got down to business. “I sent you an email,” he said.
No shit?!?!?! Wow!!! Of course, I had already received it and read it. That’s kind of the way it works, isn’t it? The beauty of email is that it actually emails and shit. But that’s not good enough for Boss. Every single missive he shoots out of his ass has to be followed up with his genius personal touch.
He proceeded to rehash everything in the email. I sat there with a blank look on my face and took it like the miserable fuck that I am. I’ve learned through bitter experience (a wonderful teacher) that any other move on my part would be to no avail and would only increase my frustration.
I looked at the clock. It read 9:10. I’d only been at work for 10 minutes. Holy mother of God, I thought. Only 47 more of those 10-minute blocks to go and I can call it a day.
Happy Monday, everyone! I hope you enjoy it as much as I know I will. It’s the flavor of Monday that gives life its special meaning. Enjoy every precious moment!
Shouts from the Abyss 
Wonder if Mr. Hunticide will qualify for the Darwin Award this year?
And are Mondays really as gawd-awful as they truly seem, or is it simply the glaring difference between the “Thank-all-that’s-holy-that-I’m-finally-out-of-here-for-2-days” weekends and the first day of fresh hell that Mondays are?
Course, if it weren’t for Mondays, we’d have to have Mondays on Tuesdays, and wouldn’t THAT be a clusterf*ck to mess up your whole week?
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I thought of the Darwin Awards, too. Some of those certainly seem worthy.
Yes, Mondays deserve their reputation and more. They truly suck. Of course, if we eliminated Mondays then Tuesday would step up to become the new Monday. It would still suck, but at least the work/home ratio would have some balance.
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My son was talking loudly the other day, interrupting me as usual, and I pointed out that his volume level was entirely too high. Then I explained why. He and his friends are constantly trying to talk at the same time. It’s like a contest. No one is listening, they just yell louder and louder trying to be the one that is heard. WTF? He denied this of course, with a “no we don’t” which then devolved into a litany.
“no we don’t”
“yes you do”
“no we don’t”
“yes you do”
“no we don’t”
“yes you do”
“no we don’t”
“yes you do”
“no we don’t”
“yes you do”
“no we don’t”
“yes you do”
Eventually, I let him win, because I have better things to do than argue with a ten year old all day. My wife was also ready to scream at me because she thinks I should “be the adult.” Bullshit. If being the adult means not telling a ten year old that he’s wrong, well… okay, I’ll be the adult. “Kid,” I said, “if you argue with me one more time, I’m taking away your computer, I’m restricting you from the xbox, and there will be no television. Now, are you loud when you talk with your friends?”
Turns out my wife was right. Being the adult works a lot better.
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LOL!!! I can totally see that conversation. And I like your adult method of resolution. Brilliant!
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Gah! Please tell me it got even a little bit better from there?
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Well, I just had a five-day weekend. 🙂 In less than an hour I’ll be back at my desk. This week, for me, Thursday is the new Monday.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
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Tell the truth…you’re actually part of a reality tv show, aren’t you?
Your work environment has all the classic ingredients…a stupid boss, an ignorant cow-orker, narcism among family members, obligatory screaming matches and probably bad florescent lighting. Not to mention on rainy days the odour of wet dog.
You are so fucking lucky to be a cast member. Can I get your autograph? 😛
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You’re preachin’ to the choir, sister Blogdramedy! I’ve been saying my life would make an awesome reality show for a long, long time!
Thursday was my first day back to work after a short vacation. Actually, calling it a “vacation” is an insult to real vacations since it was unpaid. It was more like a sabbatical.
Anywho, the work environment was such that I bolted a half hour early. “Bolt” is a term defensively invented by cow orker and myself to describe a situation in the workplace so untenable that we simply have to leave.
In this particular case, it was the boss calling youngsters and threatening them with jail. I literally shit you not. For some strange reason, that activity a mere six feet from my desk was distracting to me doing my job, so I felt the need to bolt.
Perhaps that tale can some day be told. It’s a real fucking hootenanny.
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