Learning To Hate Mondays
Dammit, Garfield is right.
I'm starting to think that no matter how much you like your job, Monday is the day you look the least forward to. At least for any healthy person who's not spiralling his life down the workaholic drain. Whatever's got you pumped during the weekend, Monday's guaranteed to dampen it, a big dry sponge in the aquarium of life.
The fact that I lost an hour, because we all had to set our clocks ahead for Daylight Savings Time, didn't really help me get out of bed either. The things that we go through to save electricity and money. It's also caused a lot of confusion in the US, where not all states have adopted DST. Indiana has only just started to join the 20th century. Until now, chronic drinkers in adjacent states would risk life and limb to stagger or drive(!?) into Indiana to get that extra hour of alcoholic consumption, because Indiana refused to to turn their clocks ahead.
Although I don't have a hangover to deal with, getting up with one less hour of sleep is still a chore. My only reprieve came in the form of the regular trip to Tim Horton's for a coffee and bagel on the way to work. However, this is one of those Mondays were that reprive feels hard-earned.
It seems that the white chick working the sandwich and bagel station hates her job more than anyone else. She wasn't afraid to let the whole restaurant know, as she came short of blasting the Indian trainee for entering the order wrong, and short of beaning me with my bagel.
Granted, I never liked Tim Horton's lack of a system to assign a number to each order, so that people don't end up taking someone else's food by mistake. At every franchise that I go to, the number of angry customers due to the order mix-ups must be nerve-wracking. Nevertheless, she's lucky that she decided to vent her multigrain rage upon me, and not one of the dozen disgruntled office workers and truckers patronising the small establishment, all of whom are probably more than happy to snap, jump over the counter, and beat her with her own toasted pastry products.
With that obstacle out of the way, I was finally able to enjoy the coffee and bagel that was nearly flattened against my head only minutes ago. So far, work is good, but some little things in the environment are starting to eat at me. Our boss is cool enough to let us listen to the radio on the internet while we work, at a reasonable volume level, but this is turning out to be a mixed blessing.
This one girl at work, which I get along well with, always has her computer tuned into Z95.3. Now I understand, as a local hit radio station, they have to play hit songs over and over again. But the reason why this radio station sucks is that although they are obliged to repeatedly broadcast hit songs, the do not change their song list for months. So if you play this station for the whole work day, not only will you have listen to the same songs over and over again, but you also have to listen to them over and over again everyday for months! Within such a long timespan, someone surely must have written/cookie-cut a "new" chart-topping pop song that is worthy of broadcasting.
I swear if I ever hear about me being someone's "dirty little secret", or Pink whining about how she doesn't want to be someone's "stupid girl" one more time, I'm going to go down to the radio station and beat them with their own toasted pastry products.
Coming home from work wasn't the end of it, as this Monday had another surprise waiting for me.
More accurately, a surprise left by my cat, which I nearly stepped on. Of all the days, it has to be today that she misses the litterbox for the first time. I conjected that it was less likely for her to miss the litterbox since she does her business completely inside it; it was more likely that the turd stuck to her ass and fell off on her way out. She'd probably notice she still has a turd stuck to her ass, but being a cat, she literally wouldn't give a shit. God, I need a way to vent my Monday stress.
Maybe I'll beat the crap out of someone with a toasted bagel.
I'm starting to think that no matter how much you like your job, Monday is the day you look the least forward to. At least for any healthy person who's not spiralling his life down the workaholic drain. Whatever's got you pumped during the weekend, Monday's guaranteed to dampen it, a big dry sponge in the aquarium of life.
The fact that I lost an hour, because we all had to set our clocks ahead for Daylight Savings Time, didn't really help me get out of bed either. The things that we go through to save electricity and money. It's also caused a lot of confusion in the US, where not all states have adopted DST. Indiana has only just started to join the 20th century. Until now, chronic drinkers in adjacent states would risk life and limb to stagger or drive(!?) into Indiana to get that extra hour of alcoholic consumption, because Indiana refused to to turn their clocks ahead.
Although I don't have a hangover to deal with, getting up with one less hour of sleep is still a chore. My only reprieve came in the form of the regular trip to Tim Horton's for a coffee and bagel on the way to work. However, this is one of those Mondays were that reprive feels hard-earned.
It seems that the white chick working the sandwich and bagel station hates her job more than anyone else. She wasn't afraid to let the whole restaurant know, as she came short of blasting the Indian trainee for entering the order wrong, and short of beaning me with my bagel.
Granted, I never liked Tim Horton's lack of a system to assign a number to each order, so that people don't end up taking someone else's food by mistake. At every franchise that I go to, the number of angry customers due to the order mix-ups must be nerve-wracking. Nevertheless, she's lucky that she decided to vent her multigrain rage upon me, and not one of the dozen disgruntled office workers and truckers patronising the small establishment, all of whom are probably more than happy to snap, jump over the counter, and beat her with her own toasted pastry products.
With that obstacle out of the way, I was finally able to enjoy the coffee and bagel that was nearly flattened against my head only minutes ago. So far, work is good, but some little things in the environment are starting to eat at me. Our boss is cool enough to let us listen to the radio on the internet while we work, at a reasonable volume level, but this is turning out to be a mixed blessing.
This one girl at work, which I get along well with, always has her computer tuned into Z95.3. Now I understand, as a local hit radio station, they have to play hit songs over and over again. But the reason why this radio station sucks is that although they are obliged to repeatedly broadcast hit songs, the do not change their song list for months. So if you play this station for the whole work day, not only will you have listen to the same songs over and over again, but you also have to listen to them over and over again everyday for months! Within such a long timespan, someone surely must have written/cookie-cut a "new" chart-topping pop song that is worthy of broadcasting.
I swear if I ever hear about me being someone's "dirty little secret", or Pink whining about how she doesn't want to be someone's "stupid girl" one more time, I'm going to go down to the radio station and beat them with their own toasted pastry products.
Coming home from work wasn't the end of it, as this Monday had another surprise waiting for me.
More accurately, a surprise left by my cat, which I nearly stepped on. Of all the days, it has to be today that she misses the litterbox for the first time. I conjected that it was less likely for her to miss the litterbox since she does her business completely inside it; it was more likely that the turd stuck to her ass and fell off on her way out. She'd probably notice she still has a turd stuck to her ass, but being a cat, she literally wouldn't give a shit. God, I need a way to vent my Monday stress.
Maybe I'll beat the crap out of someone with a toasted bagel.
posted by Cosmic Ocean at 8:39 PM
3 Comments:
I know! You can take it out on a supermarket store manager, or a meat shop guy who gives you shitty meat, or you can take a taxi and beat this shit out of him if he stiffs you.
The background music to my office is a chaotic den of several lines of the phone ringing all at the same time and everybody shouting about impossibly urgent deadlines... sign... -___-
If a taxi driver screws me, I'll secretly pee in his backseat. Let's see how that helps business combined with the summer heat.
Hiding a "phantom turd" under his seat would've been too gross, considering I have to handle it. That, and I have to be a contortionist if I am to produce the said turd inconspicuously.
Scatological remedial measures aside, that's pretty much the standard "office muzak", don't you think Henrietta?
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