10 Reasons Why

10 Reasons Why Mondays are the Work of Satan

1. You wake up with a hangover even though you had nothing to drink the night before.

It’s a fascinating biological phenomenon. Your head hurts, your mouth is dry and there’s a weird bruise in a surprising place. It takes all the strength you have just to reach over and slap the alarm clock against the wall, repeatedly, until you finally throw back the covers and stagger out of bed, weeping quietly. You completely ignore the person lying on the other side of the mattress, because you can’t remember their name right now, even though that person has been there for 20 years. It’ll come to you later.

2. Despite your best intentions, you never got around to doing any laundry over the weekend.

So now your wardrobe options are completely uninspiring, consisting mostly of things you haven’t worn since Clinton was in office, faded t-shirts with exclamatory slogans that could lead to your dismissal at work, and a certain leather outfit you bought during a lusty moment coming home from the wine festival in Grapevine. (The sad little price tag is still on it.)

My personal clothing dilemma this morning led to the donning of a questionable pair of slacks that technically no longer fit me. I did not let this stop the show, sucking in my gut as I struggled valiantly to conquer the demon fabric. Fastening the top button resulted in the pleats at the front committing suicide in a frenzy of ripped thread, and a firm tug on the zipper led to my instant sterilization. But I got the damn pants on.

Of course, walking became a challenge after that point, as I hobbled from room to room, taking tiny baby steps while the sounds of structural stress filled the air. And actually sitting down was out of the question. Once I got to work, I just leaned against my chair and used a plastic fork to reach the keyboard.

3. You also forgot to fill the gas tank, which means you’ll have to stop on the way to work, along with everybody else that didn’t remember this little task.

I never have a good time at the gas pump, anyway, but I especially don’t enjoy it when I’m trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and I can’t breathe. First, you have to deal with all those short-attention span people that don’t pull through to the first pump, forcing you to circle around and back in. Then you basically have to re-program the pump because the loser before you was trying to use a stolen credit card and just drove away in the middle of the transaction.

And finally, no matter what you do, carefully handling the gas nozzle with tenderness, there’s going to be that last squirt of gasoline that splashes on your pants. Great. I already have enough friction going on down there, and now I’ve just doused myself with liquid accelerant.

4. The knowledge base of other drivers on the roadways has always been questionable, but during the course of a weekend these folks will forget even the minimal skills they possessed. Monday is clearly a brand new day in their lives.

I don’t think I need to go into this much further. Some people should never be allowed out of the house. I’ve overcome too many obstacles in my life to be taken down by some fool swerving all over the road because they don’t grasp the concept that they are behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.

5. The knowledge base of your co-workers has always been questionable, but during the course of a weekend these folks will forget everything they have ever known. Ever.

They will ask you how to do everything, especially the critical things you covered in detail just three days ago using slide shows and hand puppets. They will be confused about how to turn on their computer, they will no longer remember passwords that they use every day, and they’ll even be a little unclear on where their cubicle might be located. You might as well buy a roll of toilet paper when you stop for gas on the way in, because they’re apparently going to need help with personal hygiene as well.

6. Everyone wants to talk to you, despite your prominently-displayed company badge where you have clearly scribbled “I don’t like people” in black crayon.

They bounce around and jabber away, gushing with endless anecdotes that mean nothing to you and never will. You will be unable to stop them. Turning your back and acting very busy doesn’t work. Phrases like “I think the Boss needs to speak with you” or “Is that your cubicle on fire?” or “I can make a weapon of mass destruction out of a stapler and some pocket lint” don’t make the slightest dent in their intentions. Just let them ramble on and pray for daylight.

7. The very first work email you read will cruelly announce that the massive project you’ve worked on for the last six months is no longer funded.

You have been assigned to another functional team. Your new manager will be meeting with you shortly. His name is Damian. Don’t stare at the triple-6 tattoo on his skull. It’s rude and, more importantly, he is now in control of your fate. This is why you went to college on nights and weekends for 10 years, so some 12-year-old who is related to a high-level executive officer can waltz in here and destroy all concepts of professionalism and common sense. Yay.

8. You will have 47 voice mails.

Only one of them will be of any importance. It will be the very last one in the sequence, so you will be drifting off long before you get to that one. Sadly, when the tone of this voice mail causes you to snort awake, you will only catch half of it. It’s somebody in Payroll, that’s all that registers. In your fogged state, you will accidentally erase the message and not get the all-important callback number. When you desperately call the main Payroll line, they will have no idea who you are. They hang up on you.

9. Everybody on the entire planet had a better weekend than you did.

Fascinating parties. Great nights at the club. Wonderful dining experiences. Travel to exotic places. Visits with family members that are not rude and stifling. Marriage proposals, sex changes and an Oprah sighting. All kinds of fun stuff. Your weekend? You cleaned the toilets, trimmed the cat’s claws, and watched a Discovery Channel documentary about a nomadic tribe that avoids modern civilization. You hoped that they offered a sign-up sheet at the end of the program, but once again you were disappointed.

10. The Mamas and The Papas warned us fifty years ago that Mondays will find us crying all of the time.

And I’ve always firmly believed in the prophetic wisdom of colorful hippies who sing in four-part harmony…

 

Previously published in “The Sound and the Fury” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Minimal changes made for this latest post. I’m retired, so most of this doesn’t apply to me anymore, but the nightmares still linger.

Story behind the photo: The Death-Entrance at my workplace. Or an intriguing castle doorway in Spain. You decide.

 

41 replies »

    • An astute observation. It’s much easier to laugh about it now, since I don’t have to deal with it anymore. On the flip side, if Trump doesn’t stop dicking with the stock market with his BS tweets, I may have to go back to work… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  1. No. 11 – Four grumpy-looking people are waiting outside my office door. Two more are waiting inside, and my assistant thinks they may have been in there all weekend.
    No. 12 – The coffee machine was left on all weekend, and now it’s burnt out.
    No 13 – Office optimist comes running up to me to tell me that there are muffins in the staff room. The office cynic counters that with a story of how dry they are.
    No 14 – I have 151 emails. *Sob*😢

    I understand.

    Liked by 6 people

  2. I was in retail. We were open Sunday’s, which made Mondays just one of the endless loop of indistinguishable miserable days that came and went with equal idiots in them. Thinking about it, maybe Mondays were slightly different as there was one day when everyone seemed to have tighter pants on, but otherwise, pretty tricky to tell.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. If that’s your Monday, I hate to think what your Fridays are like. Other half’s fave acronym might inspire you (if you don’t already know it) POETS day. Piss Off Early Tomorrow’s Saturday.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Those are ten reasons I wake up (on Monday morning, but heck any other morning all week long. It don’t matter any more) and cheer effusively about being retired. Even if I have mere pennies and have dismantled every hiding place that might hold some coins in a vain effort to boost the bank balance a few dollars. I don’t have to deal with rude awakenings when I was in the middle of a great dream about myself and some faded star getting very intimate indeed; archaic alarm devices that make the dentist’s drill sound merely slightly annoying; people with such bad breath (do they EVER brush their teeth? Listerine mean anything to ya Joe? Because you’ve killed every fly within a square foot by merely yawning); bad drivers; idiots at the gas pump; wardrobe malfunctions; the fact that the job you have is killing you brain cell by brain cell and your boss (and all his relatives – nepotism is IN) is a pin head. Literally. A walking example of why inbreeding is really bad. No, I lie back in retired splendor, full of bonhomie and good will because I don’t HAVE to work any more. But then I open the paper and get my mail. Party over.

    Liked by 3 people

    • I hear you completely. I revel in my carefree status, exultant in not having to deal with the pinheads, then I peruse the financial violations in my mailbox, and there is some degree of regret, but more of a degree of outrage. As we’ve discussed before, if you’ve spent your life working hard and earning those pennies, it’s just not right that we should find ourselves in a quandary over which bill simply must be paid and which can wait a few days. Something is clearly out of order…

      Liked by 1 person

      • There needs to be an investigation, involving probes and torture devices visited upon those old farts in D.C. They’ve got our pennies in their damned pockets!! I say give ’em BACK you bastards!! And no Secret Service and really good health insurance for life any longer either! The price of those two things must be bankrupting us..

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Retirement is the BEST! Happy for you that you’ve done it. 🙂

    And yes. I agree about all of this. I still dislike dealing with what i call “the bad gas people.” Those who do’t pull up to the front pump. Except now i don’t have to do it before work…

    Liked by 2 people

    • I’m usually happy that I’ve done it. But there are certain days when I sort of wish that I’d spent a few more years contributing to my slowly-dissolving retirement account. Still and all, very content to keep an eye on the spending and not have to report to an office…

      Like

  6. In my opinion Monday is not a tiring day in a week, Wednesday is the most exhausting day. Because you are on the 3rd day of the week and you have 2 days waiting before for the weekend. We always look forward for the weekend and by reaching Friday we think we are tired, it is not. We are too excited to spend our weekend and what will make us tired are the house chores, hampers full of dirty clothes and toiling at home buying groceries instead of relaxing.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Good point. Wednesdays can be a bit overwhelming, which is why they are known as “hump days” in these parts. And yes, the glowing promise of the weekend can be spoiled by the long list of things you must take care of because you didn’t have time to do so during the work week. Life is messy… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  7. The worst Mondays while working at a school were the Mondays after a break. Reason being, you had the greatest chance of a parent needing to yell at someone and you were the fool who answered their phone. My theory was they had all those days off with little Timmy and it made them snap. And somehow you’re to blame.
    My life is so much better now… 😉

    Liked by 2 people

    • Well, while I do have several misgivings about the current state of public education in America, I certainly agree with you on this point. Parents get used to their offspring being relegated to servitude outside the domicile for certain, measured intervals. When you jack with that, with offspring suddenly swarming said domicile due to the erratic nature of school schedules, it can wreak havoc on parents who did not adequately prepare for this happenstance, despite the copious emails they have received warning of such. Ergo, parental units snap, and they seek misguided revenge by calling the front office of their local education emporium…

      Liked by 2 people

  8. I’m pretty sure I read this but there’s no trail of like or comment. Must’ve been a Monday! I’ve almost always worked weekends, so I don’t get the Monday Blues that most experience. But the feeling of having to go to work on a Sunday beats it hands down! Nowadays, I rarely work a Monday unless it’s a Bank Holiday (British thing; few Mondays a year). Number 6. Forever 6. Thank heaven I currently work alone. I can save my black crayon for my customers.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Breaking news. (You are the first to know, but a blog post is brewing and will be soon released.) My financial adviser has rudely let me know that I must wrench myself out of retirement and return to the workplace, as my pension-investment accounts are not performing as expected. I am sharpening my black crayon as I type this…

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Haha! You know it, Brian. You know EXACTLY how a Monday goes.

    The one that resonated with me is the Weekend Everyone Else Had But You Didn’t. There have been many times when I avoided co-workers for the first hour Monday mornings, eliminating the Let’s Compare Weekends chat.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, those Monday-morning comparisons could be wretched, indeed, which is why I basically remained firmly-entrenched in my cubicle, avoiding social interaction at all costs. Of course, I usually did that EVERY day, but let’s not dwell… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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