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What a Day I'm Having (A Glimpse into the Life of That One Guy At Work)

Updated on September 18, 2011

I Barely Have Time for This

If I seem hurried in the writing of this article, it's just that this ridiculous computer's been acting up and I keep losing saved copies of my drafts. The other day, this guy I know, Billy, made some absurd joke right when I was sipping my Barq's, and wouldn't you know it, I dribbled on the right side of the keyboard. He's always making me mess up. My mother told me that Billy's the cause of all my troubles, and I'm starting to think it's true. A week ago, I got a speeding ticket because Billy didn't tell me the exit was coming up. I missed it because he was yapping about his girlfriend Trish, and then I had to hurry to Exit 47 so I could backtrack. Wouldn't you know it? Right into a speed trap. Anyway, you get the point. My mother should have told me years ago about Billy, but she's always thinking about herself. She's been like that my whole life. I never had the kind of snacks in the house that I wanted. She just bought Vanilla Wafers. I didn't even get a car until I had been working for a year at my lousy corporate job. I thought parents were supposed to care, but I guess not.


Speaking of jobs, Friday couldn't come fast enough this week. My boss chewed me out for being late with a D505 report. I told him it wasn't important or anything, but he's all over me. It's just one report. I mean, I didn't even have time to do it, because I was late that day, anyway. I-95 was bumper to bumper, and what was I supposed to do, come to work without showering? I've been trying to eat Special K in the morning, and he's on my back when my health's at stake. I just think that's despicable. I need another job, but who's got the time to go looking? Applications and resumes and all that. I got yelled at for making copies of my resume at work, so I'm not even going to bother anymore.

Everyone I work with gets under my skin. They're all "good morning" this and "how you doing" that. It's eight o'clock in the morning. How do they think I'm doing? Every time they start blabbing, they're distracting me. I'm sick of it. I'd report all of them if it weren't for the fact that my boss is the worst one of all. When he's not talking to me about reports, he's always asking about how my parents and my brothers are doing. People are all in my business. I wish I worked with professionals.

I Wish I Had It So Easy

Getting back home is impossible. I have to tailgate all the way home because of all these slow drivers out there. My garage is full of my stuff from UNH, because my father won't let me keep the boxes in his basement anymore. So I have to park in the driveway, which the old owners never paved, and I have to twist my ankle on the gravel because they didn't cough up the dough. I swear. Some people don't know how to take care of their property. It's almost as if they messed up this house on purpose.

You'd think I could get something done when I got home, at least, but my dog Max makes it impossible for me to cook dinner or clean the house. He's always underfoot. As soon as I even go near the vacuum, he's all "take me for a walk" or "I gotta pee." That's why I end up getting Taco Bell on the way home every night. I've gained at least thirty pounds in the last year because of my dog. What am I supposed to do? Let him go pee on the carpet? He's my responsibility, after all. If you don't have a dog, you just don't know. You can't just let him pee on the carpet.

You're Kidding Me

So, yesterday, this guy Eddie I knew from high school somehow or other found me on Facebook. It seems like so many people I don't hang around with anymore keep finding me there. I have no privacy. Anyway, I guess my class reunion's coming up and they're trying to do something at that sad hotel downtown. I don't know why they can't pick a fancier place. I didn't even bother going to the senior prom back in school because they refused to sell the tickets during 3rd lunch, but from what I hear, even that dance was at a nicer place. So, Eddie messages me the where and the when for this reunion, but the message got cut off or something and I still don't know the exact day. I swear. It was almost as if he didn't want me to go. Whatever. See if I write him back. The guys from my school are to blame for my drinking problem, anyway. Now they want me to go to some ridiculous reunion in a cheap hotel. Unbelievable.

We're A Lot Alike

All right, so before this computer decides to shut down on me, I'm going to sign off. I've got a whole week of work to look forward to, and my car's in the shop. Last time I had it in, the mechanic didn't bother telling me that the transmission was almost shot. I feel like asking the guy what he actually does for a living. There's a carpool to work from my neighborhood, but I've been uninvited, because no one told me there was a rule against eating on the ride, so I left half an egg sandwich under the seat for a week or so. All my extra cash lately is going towards making amends to Uncle Sam, so I can't buy a new car. Every year it's the same thing. Like I'm supposed to remember some date in April. I don't know why my mother never reminds me about my taxes.

Anyway, let me know if you get where I'm coming from on all this. I feel pretty good about this article, and if I had to guess, I'd say it's entirely possible that you and I have a lot in common. I really seem to connect with most people these days. I guess I'm just a people person.


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    • shogan profile image

      shogan 7 years ago from New England

      I knew you'd appreciate it, Twilight Lawns. I just knew it. Hopefully, you sensed my social commentary, too?

    • Twilight Lawns profile image

      Twilight Lawns 7 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K.

      Thank you. That was deliciously depressing. You're not related to my friend Allan, are you? You seem to be singing from the same hymn sheet. Dogs are bastarards, though, aren't they. First they want to go out; then they want to be fed; then they want to have a pee. Want, want, want.