Tuesday, February 1, 2011

What other ridiculous things can I complain about?

Originally posted March 17, 2010. Important to note is that I used to be employed at LM at that time... Oh, how things have changed.

Tuesday

day of the week

Tuesdays are often in the neutral zone; the hatred is typically reserved for Mondays. The rest of the week after Tuesday usually consists of 'hanging in there,' 'almost there,' 'finally, it's the weekend!' to 'wow that was a fast week.' Rinse, repeat. However, under further analysis, it has been discovered that Tuesdays fucking suck.

As previously mentioned, Mondays usually takes the brunt of the anger, though it typically begins Sunday night as one must segue from an open day full of possibility to a weekday night schedule (i.e. going to sleep at a decent time). However, I do have something to look forward to: for the price of a half hour to forty five minute useless meeting, we get a free breakfast, consisting of bagels, muffins, croissants and fruit. And since it's a Monday, I typically zone out for about an hour or two and then surf the internet, citing 'a bad case of the Mondays,' for my inability to focus. And then I actually get down to doing work but leftover fatigue from the weekend (either from sleeping too much or sleeping too little) catches up with me and I cower behind my double monitors (which I adjust accordingly) with my giant headphones while holding my tablet pen just right for a deceptive power nap, which, I actually do get a good five minutes in a fifteen minute session since my paranoia of getting caught keeps me from fully making efficient use of my time. After my coworker, who has been watching me and mocks me with a tiny smirk, starts to chat with me on the computer with the pings, courtesy of gchat, jarring me awake, my nap time is over. To make it official, despite the fact that I may be merely peckish and not actually that hungry, I go and grab another bagel (often just a quarter, though I still slather it liberally with scallion or vegetable cream cheese), and loiter in the kitchen as other people come and go by the water cooler. Conversation is had, dumb jokes are made, and conspiratorial whispers are passed around as everybody I end up talking to hate the same three people. I go back to my desk and go back to work. It is now 1:30, so I have lunch, usually at my desk if it's still cold outside, while watching slow buffering shows while surfing the internet; efficiency is now at 98%. From 2-4 I usually resume work while also checking the internet, or I take an hour long break, in which I take a walk. And then I get back and the last two hours of work I get more done than I have the entire day and then I look at the clock and it's time to go home and I interrupt myself and do just that even though I've finally gotten into the swing of things because bitches don't pay me enough. Mondays actually pass by really fast.

Mondays have an excuse in a way- it's Monday and I am miserable, therefore I am sluggish and unable to work. Tuesdays, however, have no excuse. It's the day before Wednesday, which is nicer because a lot of the blogs I check during my rounds include pictures of adorable animals and a 'Happy Hump Day!' slogan (when I first saw that phrase, I was confused and thought of the wrong things). Without free breakfast and without the excuse that it's a Monday, I very quickly fall into a slump. I don't think I actually begin to do work (aside from pretending that I am) until after 11:30. It's too far to start fawning for the weekend, and a little too far fetched to blame tiredness on the weekend before, though I for one, usually need up until Tuesday at the very least to recharge my social batteries (for an introvert, weekends of hanging out end up being exhausting sometimes). Tuesdays are spent wishing that it was a different day, yet at the same time not really, since time is moving fast enough as it is- on the rest of the days at least.

All in all, I could do without Tuesdays, and I can't think of anything good on TV then either.

No comments:

Post a Comment