‘Monday, monday. Can’t trust that day.’
If this was a song it would be about starched white-collared shirts, strong black coffee, and water cooler chit-chat. These are the things that monday mornings are made of.
‘You’ll never believe what my kid did this weekend!’
‘Really? What did he do?’
‘Oh, he put on his sister’s prom dress and danced around the living room for us.’
‘Oh my!’
‘It gets better!’
‘No kidding?’
‘Then he started giving us a suprise strip tease. He was very skillful and my husband and I got so hot.’
‘Amazing!’
‘Finally, he took my husband’s twelve gauge shot gun and deep throated it, pulled the trigger, and repainted our living room with his brains!’
‘That’s so cute!’
‘It was so exciting. Even our dog wanted in on the action! Bessie ran right over to his corpse and started lapping up his brains from the carpet.’
‘That sure is something.’
‘Sure is. What did you do this weekend?’
‘I felched my own semen out of a blow up doll’s asshole and then did rails of coke off of my erection!’
‘Fabulous!’
Oh, Monday mornings.
The morning supe is tapping his watch. He’s always keeping track of time. Time is a religion for the man. Time is a religion for THE Man. He stays on top of it and he already knows I’m late.
‘Ted, you’re late.’
Ah, fuck.
I haven’t shaved, my shirt is wrinkled, and I almost forgot to put my cigarette out before I walked into the building.
‘Time is money, Ted.’
‘Money is the root of all evil!’
‘Ted…’
‘Think about it! What does that make time?’
‘Just clock in.’
I clock in. I’m only five minutes late. I bet that makes a big dent on the next paycheck. This job is a joke.
I take my seat by the water cooler. I always sit at the desk closest to it because I like to eavesdrop on everyone’s conversations.
‘Goddamn, my Aunt is a whale!’
‘I shot, killed, raped, and ate a prostitute this weekend and not neccessarily in that order.’
‘My kid has AIDS again.’
‘Jesus loves you yoo, Molly. Jesus loves all of us so much that you can’t even believe it!’
‘I’m counting carbs.’
‘I’ve got Boz Skaggs tickets for the state fair this weekend! Remember Boz Skaggs?’
‘I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.’
‘Ever heard the one about the hooker with the drapes of wrath?’
‘No, really, I’m a pirate. Here’s my pillagers union card.’
I sit here everyday and people provide me with a small window into the livers. It’s entertainment for me, but it’s also education. People are always asking why I am so quiet and the truth is it’s because I’m listening to them. Watching them. Recording them. Casual conversation is an amazing thing.
‘Goddamn Collection Agent called for me at the front desk! I told him that he already has my home phone number and to go fuck himself!
‘I’ve had a car repo’d before.’
‘Did you see that new Disney movie? My retarded step-daughter is really excited about it.’
‘I got so drunk Saturday night that I had to blow a cop in the backseat of his cruiser to get out of getting a DUI. So I don’t really know how to measure what I blew.’
‘Church was really amazing Sunday. You should come check it out with me some time, Sylvie. We’ll find you a man who won’t care what you look like just as long as you love Jesus.’
‘I went to Branson last weekend too!’
Just as soon as I’m lost in the conversation the morning supe comes over to my desk and slaps a form down in front of me.
‘This is a written warning, Ted. If you get two more of these, you’re out of here.’
The man is a complete lizard. He’s worked here for six months and I’ve been here for three years. I know his type all too well, but that’s only because I outlast them in this soul sucking office. He’s growing scales all the way up the promotion ladder. I look at the form and cough. He slithers- flicks his tongue out- waits.
I sign the fucking form, but cursive handwriting is so intentionally sloppy that you can’t even tell I signed it ‘blow me’. It looks official. That’s all that matters.
He takes the form away and trades it off for a list with names and phone numbers on it.
‘I need you to call all of these people back for us. We’ve been playing phone tag and they’re getting pissed off. They should be at those listed phone numbers between now and noon.’
I nod. Whatever. I shrug my shoulders and crack my knuckles. The morning supe is still standing there transfixed and lizardlike.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll get right on it.’
He huffs and walks off. Whatever. Jerk off. Three of the names and numbers on his list are the same person and phone number. I doubt he even noticed. I cross two of them off the list. When he walks by and asks how far I am with the list he’ll leave me alone.
Now that my day is beginning I’m noticing that the water cooler talk has died off.
Back to the grind.
