Mondays Should Be Shot
Its Monday again. No real surprise there. It happens every week. And like every Monday before, I feel like shit. No, I have not been out drinking. I wish I had then I'd have an excuse for feeling like I'm gonna puke any second now. Mondays are my worst day. I have got to get outta here.
The day is the same as any other though. The bus was on time, the train was late. Ticket man knows my name and gives me my ticket without having to ask what I need. No Katie this morning to make me feel better. Tube strike in London, so she's working from home. I miss Katie when she isn't on the train.
Stop in the Sainsburys to pick up fags and cash and the woman behind the counter doesn't even have to ask what kind I want. She knows and she's friendly. Normal Monday morning chatter. Procede to the walk to work.
People fill the sidewalk where the buses come in and don't think for a second that maybe someone might actually want to walk down it. I have to shove past as usual and I endure the dirty looks of "How dare you walk down the sidewalk". Give way to an old lady in exchange for a kind smile.
Walk in to work and its the same greeting from the security guard as it is every morning as he chats to the useless cleaning lady. To the elevators with me. I'm not in any coordinated state to try to walk up 2 flights of stairs. Besides, I'm tired and lazy.
So there's my desk. For once someone hasn't decided to stack stupid shit on it when I wasn't looking. Off comes the coat and scarf to be hung from the back of my chair. Time to sit down and see if I can face the world of a Monday morning consultant who can't remember her password and try not to puke into the phone literally.
Thus begins my day.
The day is the same as any other though. The bus was on time, the train was late. Ticket man knows my name and gives me my ticket without having to ask what I need. No Katie this morning to make me feel better. Tube strike in London, so she's working from home. I miss Katie when she isn't on the train.
Stop in the Sainsburys to pick up fags and cash and the woman behind the counter doesn't even have to ask what kind I want. She knows and she's friendly. Normal Monday morning chatter. Procede to the walk to work.
People fill the sidewalk where the buses come in and don't think for a second that maybe someone might actually want to walk down it. I have to shove past as usual and I endure the dirty looks of "How dare you walk down the sidewalk". Give way to an old lady in exchange for a kind smile.
Walk in to work and its the same greeting from the security guard as it is every morning as he chats to the useless cleaning lady. To the elevators with me. I'm not in any coordinated state to try to walk up 2 flights of stairs. Besides, I'm tired and lazy.
So there's my desk. For once someone hasn't decided to stack stupid shit on it when I wasn't looking. Off comes the coat and scarf to be hung from the back of my chair. Time to sit down and see if I can face the world of a Monday morning consultant who can't remember her password and try not to puke into the phone literally.
Thus begins my day.
posted by Kostika at 10:49 am
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