The key to success is having a strict routine and sticking to it religiously. The most important of these routines is your morning sequence, which sets you up for success (or lack thereof) every day. Of course, five days is a long time, and by the end of those 50 hours, your routine has drastically changed for the worse.
Fuckin’ Mondays. The weekend could not be further out of sight, and you wake up to your alarm feeling like you slept for five minutes. This is not the day to snooze. Mondays are a gauntlet you have to run, and an extra nine minutes of sleep isn’t going to make it any better. Get up, get yourself into the shower, and get ready to face the day with a full power regiment. Shave, cologne, maybe even some lotion to make sure your deal-closing hands aren’t ashy. You eat a lean breakfast of a banana and a protein shake to give yourself a much-needed energy boost while not adding any more calories onto your bloated-from-the-weekend stomach. Throw on an ironed shirt, slacks, and your best watch. Walk into the office ten minutes early tossing out winks and finger guns to your coworkers. It’s Monday, baby, and while you might feel like shit, you’re going to walk around like you own the place.
The only day of the week arguably worse than Monday. The weekend seems just as far away, but now you’re also weighed down with the weight off all the work you did yesterday. You don’t snooze your alarm, but it’s an internal battle you barely win. You still end up running late, and when you walk into the office at 9 a.m. exactly, you’re sporting some stubble and a shirt that clearly hasn’t been ironed since you wore it last Thursday. You smile and say hi to your coworkers, but your eyes show how dead you are inside.
Atta kid, you made it halfway through the week. You celebrate by snoozing your alarm twice and end up rushing out the door after a five-minute cold shower because you couldn’t wait for your water to heat up. Your facial hair is toeing the line of acceptable office grooming, and after spending your commute wondering who on the train stinks, you realize you forgot to wear deodorant. You’re wearing you same slacks from Monday, and you’re fully prepared to go off on anyone that calls you out for it. Talking to you, John. Who has a pair of slacks for every day of the week, anyway? Only assholes, that’s who. You forgot to grab breakfast and as a result, eat your lunch at 11:15. The rest of your day sucks, plain and simple.
Final push, baby. You’re so close to the weekend you can smell it, and you woke up before your alarm (because you passed out at 9 p.m. after three glasses of wine the night before). Despite a minor headache, you feel pretty good. You find time to shave and put shirt in the bathroom while you shower, eliminating most of the wrinkles. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a window as you walk to work and see a handsome son-of-a-bitch smiling back at you. You’ve got some work to crank out today, but you’re not worried. You’re crushing life, and you’re already positive you’re going to get laid this weekend. You may even hit the gym after work (arms, chest, and calves only) so you’ll look good naked for whomever the lucky lady ends up being.
Well, you went to happy hour instead of the gym, and you’re fucking paying for it now. You wake up late to no alarm, only to realize that while you remembered to plug your phone into the charger, you drunkenly pulled that charger out of the wall, rendering it (and your phone) useless. You throw on the same slacks from Monday and Wednesday, and pray to the lord almighty that John’s bitch ass has something to say about it.
You’re still drunk on the train, and in between feeling like you’re going to throw up, you find time to spill some coffee on your shirt. Luckily, it’s a dri-fit polo, because even if your company doesn’t celebrate casual Fridays, you refuse to tuck in a shirt today. You don’t make eye contact with anyone as you walk to your desk, mainly because you hate them all, and partly because your eyes are as red as the devil’s dick. You spend the first three hours of work with your head in your hands, chugging coffee, or in the bathroom because of said coffee. Finally, after a greasy lunch, you finally believe you’ll make it through this. Just as you begin to fantasize about the quiet weekend you’ll have staying in and catching up on work, you get a group text that makes you both excited and scared at the same time.
“What’s the plan tonight, boys?” .