13 People

Crawled, fought, danced, and jived myself through another insanely demanding work week last week.

Just kidding. About the insanely demanding part. Come on, man - a 2 and 1/2 day work week is a walk in the park, Kazanski. Any two year old can handle it.

But let's get serious - working in an office is about as natural as shoving an ice pick into your left eye. And equally as painful.

A naturally back-stabbing environment and I have never understood why. Do your fucking job and don't be cruel. Don't be two faced.

Is it human nature? Or the environment? Nature or nurture?

Someone shits all over someone else privately, and then laughs and jokes with the victim five minutes later. This happens with alarming regularity.

Feels like it happpens more often in this office than anywhere else I have worked. City employees. Is that the reason? I honestly don't know.

But it is a weird environment. 

Nothing, and I mean nothing stands in the way of a lunch break or leaving the office at exactly four o'clock.

If someone wandered into the office and tried to decapitate me with a machete at 10:00 am my office mates would rush to protect me. If it happened at 3:59 I would be headless.

There are only thirteen people in this office. You would think it would not be difficult for thirteen people to get along. I mean we are all in close proximity, see each other a lot - considerate humanity should be a natural. Camaraderie.

Nope. Not a chance.

I wish I could set up a secret surveillance system to record what people say about me behind my back. I would truly love to hear that. The thought fascinates me.

It is near impossible to believe anyone could have a problem with an engaging, humorous, intelligent, sensitive, resourceful, well-read and learned man like me. But I am sure in some of my officemates' eyes I am a lowlife, scumbag, idiot, lovable loser, no account boozer, shithead of a man.

As Tony Soprano frequently used to say "Oh well - what are you gonna do?"

So here it is Monday and another work week looms. 2 and 1/2 days, man. Are you kidding me? How inconceivably horrific can it get? 20 whole hours. I deserve medals. Lots of them.

I am better positioned to deal with work this week. It took two weeks of self flagellation to get me here after my delicious vacation. I wasn't exercising at all until this weekend. I sat in my recliner like Jabba the Hutt and drank whiskey and ate Velveeta cheese.

Exercise is key. I worked out Satuday, Sunday and today. I am determined to make it four for four tomorrow.

Exercise makes me feel so good, physically and mentally. It truly builds positivity.

I am positive that Wednesday, Thursday and Friday are going to suck.

Royally.