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Most of you are students and don’t have to worry your pretty little first year heads about committing to shit on a Monday. You can skive off your lectures, eat mi goreng in bed, and be a general lout. This is a lesson for those of you that are eventually going to end up having to work on a Monday. A Monday after a massive weekend. And yes, buddy, you’re hauling that ass out of bed.
Monday at work after a bender isn’t so much hell as it is purgatory. It’s like someone’s taken half your brain away and you’re working without a frontal lobe. The day is long, finding the right words is like…. is like… really hard, and conversing with people on a level deeper than “hi, how are you?” is my idea of a cruel joke. You’ll definitely survive it. You’ll come out on the other side. But… but how? You start questioning yourself. Can you hang in there, can you convince those around you whose weekends consisted of fish and chips with the family, a rugby game, maybe even a few beers around a bbq, that your weekend was practically the same? Party this weekend? Oh no, a few wines with the girls but that’s about it. Sunday? Pottered around the house, did a few loads of washing, even cooked a Sunday roast. The answer is yes. Yes you can. Hang in there, because it’s not worth wasting a sick day on this.
I’m basically an expert because this is me every Monday. Literally. I should probably have asked for my name to be anonymous but I realised no one reads this anyway so it doesn’t matter. That’s a joke. Might I tell you it’s Monday as I’m typing this so, yeah, I’m a snotty bitch. Don’t fuck with me.
Anyway, my experience has shown me that you can do your post-bender Mondays zen or nasty. You choose. Sometimes you need a combo of both. Zenasty. Basically you have to decide whether you’re going to combat the blues with a full of health blast green smoothie kale salad wheatgrass bomb, or you’re go down the McD’s, BK, hot chips road. I ain’t judging. Sometimes I start with the smoothie and then I’m like HELL, what was I thinking?
It goes beyond just what you put inside you though. That is something you can control. What you can’t control is how your co-workers are going to be, the kind of work you could get asked to do, (if you’re lowly like me, it could be anything). What you can do though is employ those fifth form acting skills and LIE THROUGH UR FUCKIN TEETH AND PRETEND U R SUPER ON TO IT AND THAT YOU’VE NEVER TOUCHED ALCOHOL OR DRUGS IN UR LYFE.
Here are my top handy tips for this convincing af person you’re going to develop:
Set your alarm earlier than you think you need to. Sounds counterintuitive? And ugly? Because you need that sleep right. Wrong! You need to get your arse up and jump in the shower and make it a looooong shower. Wash your hair and shit. Shave your legs. Do those things that make you feel fresh. Or you know, don’t shave ur legs. Hairy is attractive af. Point being—get up early man! Let the power of water invigorate you.
Have a coffee. If you don’t have any at home you got up early so you’ve got time to muthafuckin get one before work don’t you? Don’t get V. That shit’s nasty and your stomach is already raw. Also very important is orange juice. In fact, get orange juice before coffee. Drink them. Not at the same time. Especially if you have milk. Cos that shit curdles. Wait like half an hour or something.
Eat something. Eat toast. Or as I said a smoothie. Or a pie. Whatever ur vibe get that fucking food in you. It’s fuel. It’s what is gonna get you through your day. Idgaf if ur on a diet. This is cheat day 2.0. You have to eat whatever will propel you til 5pm.
If you have painkillers, take them. But be careful that they’re not gonna fuck you up more. Don’t take valium. You won’t work. You will sleep.
Get to work on time. You should always get to work on time anyway, but today in particular this is important because you don’t want to start the day getting in trouble. People will question you. Also your powers of persuasion will probably suck. You don’t want extra attention because you have puffy eyes and dry, fucked up looking skin and you look 90.
Try keep to yourself. Head straight to your desk. If someone says hi, say it back, don’t be a rude bitch, but try limit the conversation to that. Also being quiet can make you look stressed and busy, so play that card if someone asks.
Now that you’re at your desk open a word document. Type. Type anything and you’re already one step towards appearing as the master of productivity. Literally type random shit. Like the lyrics to your favourite song. Or the same word over again. Or all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. This piece of writing was literally penned doing this savvy af trick. You look productive. If someone comes too close to your screen, or stops to talk to you, have an actual work related document already open that was finished last week that it appears you’re editing. For best effect use a spreadsheet as no one can fucking understand those.
Send emails to your friends to help you get through the day. Helping ease the slow-burning pain and boredom with feel sorry for me I feel worse than you stories and, again, appear productive… emails are the number one sign of productivity. If someone asks you what you’re busy with you are not lying when you say you’ve got a fuckload of emails to get through. Find funny af memes to send when you know no-one’s looking. Don’t get caught laughing. Smiling is probably okay, because it looks like you’re a normal human, not a zonked out freeq.
Meetings. If at all possible avoid like chlamydia. But if you can’t it’s easily cured with a course of antibiotics. But yea, meetings. Just try say nothing. Under the radar is your mantra for the day. Nod all the time (slowly though, too vigorously and your head won’t stop spinning), especially at whoever’s chairing the meeting. Open your mouth at important seeming comments and, when discussion occurs, make gestures that appear as if you’ve got something to say, but never say it. You’ll look engaged, but considerate. If there comes a point that you need to speak then keep it to a minimum, citing the potential onset of a cold if need be. Or a headache. Or the huge workload that is sitting at ur desk positively screaming for u to get back to.
The grey state of ennui; the fatigued downward turn of the mouth that grinned incessantly 36 hours ago: make them work for you. If anyone comments on your unhappy, pained look—you’re concentrating. There’s a bitch of an email you’re writing. There’s a deadline. Your cat is dying. THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING. I don’t care if you’re “not a good liar.” That’s bullshit. Everyone is a mutherfucking good liar when they need to be. It’s part of being human… we’ve evolved to lie because it makes life easier. I have no scientific research to support this claim, but listen to me anyway because you’re despo. If someone has the cheek to say you’re not very talkative today—“yes motherfucker that’s right I took a lot of pills and hallucinogens on the weekend and my brain is still recovering from the flip” is what you will NOT say. Instead you’ll nod and mention one of the above or other crafty excuses that I KNOW you can make up. Having a heavy workload is pretty safe though as no one wants to hear about your workload: their workload is always bigger, more important, or worse.
It’s hopefully midday by now. I pray for you that it is. The holy hour of lunch. Use this time wisely. It can make or break you. Firstly gtfo of the office. Go. Even if you have to sit on the mall toilet for half an hour across the road (yes, I’ve done that), leave that prison of glaring LEDs and maybe try get some fresh air or a change of scenery. Go to the fucking park. And eat. Eat again. Drink. Quench your thirst. Remember choice is important. It’s tempting to chow down on a burger. This is temporarily satisfying but if you plan on staying at work the entire day there are better options. I hate to preach (lies, I love to preach) but fresh fruit, juice, and smoothies, all that high fructose stuff, makes you feel way better. And it’s yum. Go to Tank or something. Or Burger King. You choose. Again, zen or nasty. Zenasty. Unless your body is literally screaming at you saying HIGH CARB HIGH FAT then try the green shit first. There’s no reversing them nasty KFC quarter pack feels. Think about this before you visit the colonel. I will say I told you so.
If you’re feeling up to it, take a little stroll around the block. But like if you cbf who cares. You’re coming down. I’m just here to recommend what will likely make you feel a bit better but if your thighs are still fucking sore from getting low boys and girls, sit the fuq down. Heal. Breathe in the fresh air. Wait until the very last minute to get back from lunch. Don’t be late because you don’t want any excuse for trouble. And then prepare for the worst part of the day.
Yes. Post-lunch is like trying to finish the rest of a marathon when you just broke your leg, but you’re like it’s all good guys, I’M FINE. It’s hard. And the hours tick by sloooooooooowly. The good thing is that EVERYONE slacks off post-lunch. They just hide it better than you do. My go to is fucking around on social media or online quizzes, or looking up takeaway menus for my nasty gorge fest after work that WILL eventually happen, or looking up “how to get over a comedown / hangover” even though I’ve read all possible blogs re: that topic and they give worse advice than I do. If you’re going to do this, you need to have some open tabs that are clearly work related that you can quickly switch to. And maybe like rear vision mirrors in case anyone decides to creep up on you.
Mundane and monotonous tasks like stuffing envelopes are indeed, THE SHIT. They literally take forever and require zero effort. Help out the awesome administrator who is probably the only understanding person in your entire office and tell her you can do some paper folding or paper cutting or anything that you can mong out for an hour or two doing.
There are going to be times when you don’t think you can last another two hours. You so can. Think about how proud you will be when you go home. You did it! Now you can do anything! You’re the shit! But that’s two hours away. Don’t celebrate yet. Spend a while planning the rest of your evening. Think about what movie or TV shows you’re gonna watch. Snacks you’ll have. If you’ve got a fuck buddy invite them over. If not, hard luck. Invite another friend over who is undoubtedly enduring the same shit as you. The end of the day is the entry to heaven. But you’re in purgatory remember. You have to earn that shit. The good thing is that you KNOW you’ll get there. Because I’m telling you. And I am God.
So if you’ve successfully been able to fuck around for the rest of the arvo, I’m proud. I’m really tearing up here guys. If you’ve actually been forced to work well that sucks, it really does, and welcome to the school of hard knocks. You clearly FAILED at diversionary tactics. You DON’T get a certificate as queen of looking busy while up to fucks. But I’m not a cruel God so I won’t rub it in too much. This is for you to LEARN. And if you keep up your partying ways I can guarantee many many more lessons are coming for you. By the end of it I could even hire you as my new St Peter. But don’t get too cocky. Peter’s a lush. He won’t be stopping anytime soon.
And then the magic hour hits—it’s five o’-motherfucking-clock. Hallelujah! I know that you’ve already packed your bag, shut down your computer, and are ready to go before I have to tell you. At five o’clock you have no obligations to sit on that squeaky fucking desk chair any minute longer. Jet out that door, who gives a fuck about saying goodbye, get your tired ass home and you’ve MADE IT! You have survived a Monday at work after one of the biggest weekends of your life. The points gained are massive. While your other suckful friends couldn’t handle the jandal and called in sick, YOU pulled through and now you can save that sick day for when you’re literally heaving bile and are still hallucinating. Or are you know, genuinely sick…. Eat some pizza babes. Netflix. Chill.