A Case of the Mondays  

I get it people. Mondays are no fun. You have to get up early after a weekend of sleeping in and sleeping around to go to a place that you don't always like, and do it in a semi-forced fashion. While I hardly stand as a glaring example of workplace satisfaction, I've learned from years of thankless Mondays that you just have to get over it. Nonetheless, my reformed attitude doesn't protect me from the barrage of glossy-eyed, apathetic worker bee conversation at the start of each week. A typical encounter goes something like this:

Me: Morning Bob, how are things?

Bob: They'd be a whole lot better if I was still in bed!

(cue fake laughter and real pity)

Then there's this gem I can never seem to get away from:

Me: Hey Tim. How was your weekend?

Tim: Not long enough! Hahahaha...

Me: Then maybe you should quit you prick! By the way, have I ever told you how ugly that baby is in those pictures on your desk? Your son, really? You poor bastard!

OK, so maybe I only said that last part in my head.

My personal favorite, and the only one I have yet to tire of, comes courtesy of the office party girl:

Me: Good morning Sara. Rough weekend?

Sara: (wearing sunglasses, fumbling with coffee pot like a crack fiend) Mmuuuuphfagugga.

Having been there, I'll help out by filling her coffee for her. With decaf of course.

I think the overall sentiment of how I feel here is pretty clear. You may be asking yourself why I even bother talking to these people if it poses such a burden on my sanity. Because Monday mornings suck, that's why; if I wasn't talking to them I might actually have to do some work.

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