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7:00 a.m.
Alarm goes off. Hits snooze.
7:09 a.m.
Alarm goes off. Hits snooze.
7:18 a.m.
Alarm goes off.
I should probably go for a run before I head in for the day, right?
7:40 a.m.
Halfway through run.
Damn it, I totally forgot to pack clothes to wear today. Thank God for Start-Up culture. I can wear the same joggers from yesterday and then find a shirt that doesn’t smell like garbage, should be fine.
8:20 a.m.
Khaki joggers, black socks, brown shoes, grey and black flannel. I look like a turd sandwich. Whatever. I’ll just play it off like I just got off the airplane.
8:45 a.m.
How do we have two bags full of bagels but no cream cheese? What happened here?
9:15 a.m.
Checks Waze.
Oh shit, I should probably start heading in. I forgot I was leaving from my parents’ place today.
Note: Some clarification on this—I work from 10-7. It’s a sweet gig. I’m very lucky.
10:15 a.m.
Opens laptop for the first time in a week.
147 unread emails. Huh.
Closes laptop.
10:17 a.m.
First of four cups of coffee.
10:20 a.m.
“Oh, yeah! Thanks! Well, I know I look tan, but I’m mostly just burned to a crisp under this shirt. But, uh, as far as what today looks like for me, I’m kind of digging myself out of a hole. I’ll try to jump on a call whenever I can.”
10:30 a.m.
“So you’re the new addition to our team! Welcome! Let me know if you have any questions, more than happy to show you the ropes. Oh… oh you mean, like, you have questions right now. I just…I have all these em—you know what, let’s just grab a conference room and talk it out for a little. How long could it take?”
11:44 a.m.
Are you fucking kidding me.
11:57 a.m.
Look, I know the lunches around here have some weird effects on some peoples’ bowels, but for my coworker to actually warn me about how every stall in the men’s room is full right now, today might be the day to order in.
12:01 p.m.
Sees that it’s Taco Salad day for lunch, disregards warning.
12:13 p.m.
Alright, finally making a dent in these emails. Most of them are just updates anyway, nothing I really have to take action on. Should be done soon.
12:17 p.m.
Feels repercussions of previous warning, sprint-walks to bathroom.
12:27 p.m.
Back to emails. No more distractions. It’s game time.
1:00 p.m.
As sure as I am that there is nothing that will be said on this Skype call that couldn’t have been said via email, I’m actually really happy that I’m spontaneously jumping on this. That way, I can make it look like I’m doing work, when really I’m just talking about getting drunk and puking on NYE. So yes, Katie. I’ll join you in a minute.
1:45 p.m.
Yeah that definitely could have just been an email.
2:20 p.m.
Holy crap, I’ve been staring at the same Google Doc for the last 30 minutes. I should probably open a new one and type some stuff in it. That’ll make it look like I’m doing something, right?
2:28 p.m.
Has an anxiety attack for no clear reason.
2:30 p.m.
Why are the Senior Managers now facilitating the meeting that we’ve been having weekly for over a year? Is this forever? Should I be worried about this? Did I fuck up?
2:40 p.m.
Oh, it’s only this one, and it’s about something that doesn’t have relevance to me. We’re good.
2:57 p.m.
Feels repercussions of lunch again.
“Hey, can you guys excuse me for a second?”
Sprint-walks out of conference room and into the bathroom.
3:20 p.m.
I have 7 tabs open, 5 of them are either Google Docs or Google Slides. Let’s grind.
3:50 p.m.
What even is a “flash meeting,” and why is it on my calendar, Melissa?
4:00 p.m.
Holy shit, that was actually the most productive 10 minutes of my day. Flash meetings are awesome!
4:40 p.m.
You know that feeling when you’re reading and finish a whole page and realize that you retained none of it so you go back and try again? Imagine that, only instead of a book, it’s the first presentation of a series of presentations that you have to give starting Monday, on a topic that you know nothing about. That’s what my last hour and a half was, apparently.
5:43 p.m.
I have literally been reading these presentations, copying the link to them, and putting that link into a spreadsheet, all so that I can go back and read them again tomorrow, for an hour. Why.
6:15 p.m.
Fuck it, I’m just going to say I have Montezuma’s Revenge and leave early.
6:31 p.m.
Okay, seriously, how is it that I was only gone for a week and suddenly forgot how all of the appliances in my apartment work? Is my toilet supposed to flush like that? I don’t even know anymore.
6:37 p.m.
No food in the fridge. Nothing in the freezer. Nothing in the pantry. Well, time to order some sushi and watch Black Mirror for the next 3 hours.
9:43 p.m.
Right swipe. Right swipe. Right swipe. Right swipe. Right…swipe. Right…swipe. Falls asleep..
Image via Shutterstock
Working 10-7 sounds miserable.
As does the exercising
Yeah I’m more of an 8-5+ kind of guy. My pedantic routine is the most important thing to me in life rn.
I don’t mind it. Get to sleep in and go to the gym and still have the evenings off
My hours are the same, love it because I beat the commute rush on the subway and can go to the gym in before work (when i chose to actually go)
Tell me more about this “flash meeting”…
The account name + avatar and this comment go hand in hand.
I think that was probably the point.
Currently on the way to work after being out for almost two weeks. I’m dreading opening Outlook.
Also, sorry Charlie.
“Has an anxiety attack for no clear reason.”
Sorry friend, I feel you on that, every single slow day at work at around the same time the same thing happens to me.
But did you talk to Elizabeth?
Got a solid wink in when I was coming through the door. That’s about it.
Small miracles.
What’s the situation with Liz, like? You bring her something back you ol sailor?!
Took off December 22nd and came back January 3rd. It’s tax year end here…8:30-midnight day 1, 8:30-12:30 A.M. Day 2. Been a rude awakening
Big 4?
Nah, public company with accelerated timeline on year-end results
Working from home being my first day back was the best move I’ve made in a while.
Not feeling a crushing obligation to keep up with your emails even when you’re on PTO…must be nice
Sorry Charlie.