Here’s To Mailing It In At 3:30

Here’s To Mailing It In At 3:30

I was all out from 7:30 a.m. until this very moment. I didn’t even take a full hour at lunch either. 30 minutes, tops. Okay 35, Twitter feed was ablaze today and I lost myself in stories of all the punks from yesterday’s National Signing Day announcing to the world what college campus they were going to dominate for the next 4 years. But now it’s 3:30 p.m., and I’ve done my shit. So the next 1.5 hours are not going to be very productive. Carly Fiorina has a better chance at winning the nomination than me sending out a single email.

I’m mailing it in.

The day was destined for a short lifespan when I got that 2:00 p.m. meeting request. On a weekly conference call that lasted 1 hour, I talked for 5 minutes. Instead of sitting there, listening to status reports on a multitude of projects that do not concern me, I should have been able to excuse myself and return to the land of productivity. But that’s not common conference courtesy. Everyone’s time must be wasted equally. It’s the law of the land. So my aspirations have all but been toasted, headway coming to a screeching halt at the cause of a dimly lit conference room filled with crackling voices spewing the same bullshit about how they are “chasing it down.”

To make matters worse, coffee isn’t working. I’ve got the afternoon yawns on repeat right now. Clearly, I have abused the substance to a point where it has no effect on me. I drink it in the morning to keep up appearances and because it warms me up on the days that it is so cold that my snot freezes to my upper lip before I even have a chance to blow my nose. But now it more or less serves as a laxative to expedite the process that was started from the consumption of my less than satisfying lunch I threw together this morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to get in early and grab the day by the balls.

As I think about it now, I do have to save something to do for the next couple of days. I can’t be working myself out of a job here now can I? That’s such a shitty mentality to have, but it’s feast or famine in my industry, so I’m going be billable as long as humanly possible during this brief drought to keep those “What are you working on?” questions off my back for as long as humanly possible. So for now, I’m calling it a day.

Now if you’ll excuse me, the coffee is kicking in so I have one last order of business before I leave for the day. #paid2poop.

Image via Shutterstock

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Mainer born and raised. Boston sports. Miller Lites. Let's get drunk and eat chicken fingers..

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