Work

9:17am: Hi! Oh, thanks for welcoming me back to the office. What? How was my vacation? Um, you don’t really care about that, I think. Oh you do? Why? Are you obsessed with me, or are you looking to co-opt my memories, or something? I’m sorry, that came out wrong. My vacation was great. You weren’t there. None of you were there, in fact. In case you’ve been absent for the entire history of everything, that’s the entire point of fucking vacations: To get away from where you usually are. For me, that’s here in the office with you. Right, sure, some people like to travel. Do they ever ask you to come? No? That’s weird; you seem like such a sharing group of people.

Did you happen to pick up on the fact that most people seem excited to go on vacation? I sure was! Ok, so let’s do the math. I was excited to get away from you, and now, even though we haven’t spoken in the days and weeks leading up to my vacation, the minute I get back, you want to ask me what it was like to be rid of you for one measly week. Do you have any vacations coming up? I hope so. Did my asking you that make you think this was one of those conversations wherein I want more than a “yes” or “no” out of you? I hope not.

Bye. Yep, see you at lunch maybe, bye.

1:42pm: Yes? Sorry? Oh, my foot tapping is bothering you? Can I ask why? Can I ask how my foot tapping bothers you, yet you do not bother yourself when you type like an angry raccoon holding bricks? Really? You’ve never noticed that? Oh, I should have said something? No, actually, you should just learn how to fucking type like someone who isn’t Frankenstein’s monster, and then no one will have to “say something.” By the way, could you stop asking me to stop tapping my foot? Thanks so much.

Bye bye now.

4:26pm: Oh hey. Yeah, I was hoping you weren’t going to talk to me as we stand here taking a leak next to each other, but what? Do I have any plans for the weekend? Which weekend? It’s Monday. Oh, it’s never too early to think about the weekend? Is it even possible for that to be true? Anyway, um, I don’t know. I was thinking of asking everyone in the office if they just wanted to forget the fact that we get every Saturday and Sunday off and just start coming here seven days a week. So if everyone says “yes” I’ll be doing that. Think about it: you could bring your family, your pets, your awesome recipes you always tell people about. And then we could just live it firsthand with you. How awesome would that be? Like, you wouldn’t have to complain about potty training your puppy, you could just bring the damn puppy here and have it shit all over everybody’s stuff. Then we’d really connect, you know? I’ll send out an email to see who’s in.

I guess if that plan doesn’t pan out, there’s always the same general weekend sort of activity that 99% of Americans engage in every weekend. I’ll be doing that. Oh no wait, this weekend I’m going to the moon. Yeah, can you believe it? No, I’m totally serious. Why would I lie to you? No, I’m not being sarcastic. I’d better get going, the rocket launches in about an hour. Oh no wait, I thought it was Friday…. It’s only Monday. See, I was confused because we were….ok, later man.