I somehow managed to get to work 20 minutes early this ayem. Some employers might find that to be commendable, but not, apparently, mine. As soon as I sat down, a coworker barrelled over to me to explain why I shouldn’t be here. “Duh,” says I. “I know there is a ‘no working before 6am’ rule. And, guess what? I’m not working! In fact, I’m screwing around. You see, when one commutes, one cannot necessarily control the time at which one arrives at one’s destination. One is just as apt to arrive 20 minutes late as 20 minutes early. Usually, lateness wins out, but occasionally, earliness triumphs. Get over it. And, you aren’t the boss of me. Neener-neener.”
What-the-fuck-EVAR!
Irony aside (what was she doing here at that unholy hour, hm?), what business is it of hers? I’ve discussed my schedule with my supervisor. She understands the vagaries of commuting, as she, too, lives out in the country. I’ve explained that many days I’ll be late, and a few days I’ll be early. On the days I’m early, I promise I won’t do any work before the appointed time, because I’d hate to invoke the wrath of the union-to-which-I-do-not-belong.
After a mere two hours of sleep, I’m in serious “kiss my ass” mode.
red paper boat 