Friday Eve


Today is Thursday … or Friday Eve, as it is known in the Biff household (but only by me).

I often will refer to Thursday as Friday Eve at work, only to get blank stares from my coworkers; or perhaps contemplative frowns, as if they are considering throwing me down the stairs.  Fortunately, the stairs are at the far end of the building and so part of their contemplation is the mental calculus involved in determining the bother of getting me all the way down the hallway and to the stairwell and then having to make it look like an accident on top of all that.  I can almost see them think, “Nah.  Too much work” to themselves as they return their attentions to the presentation on the overhead projector screen which is displaying, ironically, a safety slide on stairwell safety.   (“Always use the handrails when tossing co-workers down the stairs!“)

It has been a long week in Biff-land, the most notable feature of which was a week of all-day meetings with querulous customers, imperious upper managers, and disinterested, detached, and disengaged co-workers (of which I, apparently, was one).  There were two dozen of us crammed into a conference room; with two relatively equal teams (us versus the customers).  Our side was skins.

We were served coffee that came in boxes (so you know it was good!), packages of donuts (covered with either chocolate or powdered sugar, depending on which would go best with whatever corporate attire one was wearing), and bottles of water that were so generic that the only thing on the label was the word “water” (misspelled, of course), a bar code, and a microscopic list of ingredients that was disturbingly long (with water being only the third ingredient on the list).  We spare no expenses for our customers!

So I have had to endure a week of:

  • PowerPoint presentations concerning topics I am only marginally interested in,
  • Spreadsheets so poorly composed and so incomprehensibly complex that I felt at times that they were really Magic Eye drawings that would reveal a 3-D image if only I stared at them long enough (though the only images I could get to appear may have actually been self-induced hallucinations caused by staring intently at the overhead screen with my eyes crossed for too long), and
  • Long discussions that were so inane, so riddled with acronyms, and so bloated with overwrought and meaningless corporate-ese expressions, that I kept looking to see if the meeting was being filmed as part of a show about practical jokes.

But, sadly, the entire experience was real and all of my attempts to wake myself up or to return to my own dimension just resulted in me ending up in the same meeting, but with blue marks on my arms and legs from pinching  myself.  “Well, I’ll be darned,” I thought incredulously to myself after awhile, “This is actually my life.

So I, for one, am quite happy that today is Friday Eve.  Tomorrow will seem almost normal by comparison.  And the bruises should be healed up by then.



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