A Kick In The Head

Can't you just hear the corporate wheels grinding away today?

A fearsome sound. Crunching the bones of subordinates and employees.

Holidays are double edged swords. They create the illusion of independence and dignity. Time off, baby - to do what you like. To be with your family and celebrate and appreciate; to be with hookers, snorting cocaine off of heretofore inaccessible body parts.

Whatever makes you happy is fine with me. Because happy is a struggle and you gotta step away from "life" any way you can any time you can.

But Monday always rolls around. It is relentless. Like the honey badger.

Then you are forced to bend your knee and laugh at the boss man's jokes.

Monday after a holiday weekend is a death sentence. Exponentially worse than a "normal" Monday.

I am sitting here writing about this and I don't even have to go to work today. Or tomorrow. Or until 12:00 on Wednesday. But the back to work blues are already creeping in.

Man, I have had 8 days off from work with 2 and 1/2 more to go. And I achieved a level of peace that surprised me. Quite delightful. Indescribably delicious.

I will walk through that door on Wednesday and nothing will have changed. It will feel like I never left.

What I want is for a red carpet to be rolled out. I want people to exclaim "Hey, Joe is back - aren't we lucky". I want applause. I want bosspeople (I have 3 of them) to hand me a 375 ml bottle of Crown and say "Shit, man - take your time - ease back into this thing. Don't answer the phone until you are ready. Don't wait on a customer unless you are sure you won't kill them."

That most likely will not happen.

First of all, my alter ego will be chomping at the bit to get the fuck out the door. When I get there - usually at 11:55, he almost always has shut down the computer and is standing, leaning against a table, waiting for my arrival. My arrival signals the beginning of his weekend - he is not due back until Monday morning.

A vapor trail typically follows him out the door. Dragging with it paper, pencils, notebooks, staplers and any pretense towards professionalism.

I don't blame him. I would do the same. On Friday nights the last five minutes of the day are water torture agony - praying the phone won't ring or a customer will not stumble in.

On Wednesday the phone will probably ring at 11:59. My alter ego will look at me and say "It's all yours."

And the agony begins.

Still, I am not working today. Millions upon millions of people are. And they are defeated and depressed.

Even worse, millions of people worked on the day after Thanksgiving. And on Thanksgiving.

Ain't that a kick in the head.

A kick in the head is not what we are promised on the day we slide out of the womb.

Then again, maybe it is.