Dear Boss, I'll be at the bar.

           

(A month ago, during my internship I woke up hangover and decided to justify my reasons for not attending work by writing this for you)

 

Over the past three weeks, I’ve carefully cultivated a habit-a habit of sidestepping work or as it is commonly known in corporate circles, going AWOL every Monday. And it’s by far one of the wisest decisions I’ve made. Before you get your panties in a wad, who the hell enjoys work on a Monday?

Egg-zectly, no one!

Many of you would marvel at the kind of experience and expertise I’ve gained during the long time I’ve spent working at…well, where I work. After 29 days of working, one of the most important things I’ve learned is that I’m about 30% more productive if I work four days a week. On the contrary, if I work from Monday to Saturday, I’m about 50% less productive. It’s okay, don’t be so harsh on yourself, you can call me a genius.

I get that a lot.

          So basing on the above statistics, I didn’t go to work today. It is Tuesday. I like to call it thinking big or thinking outside the box. No, you’re not dumb. I also don’t know the difference but I’m pretty sure they have something to do with engaging one’s mental faculty into a state of mulling over. And mulling over was all I needed to come to the conclusion that, if I worked 3 days a week, I’d probably be 60% more productive. Further deliberation showed that I’d be 100% more productive if I didn’t work at all! Isn’t that awesome?

Totally!

Wait a minute.

Wouldn’t that technically mean that I’m out on a job?

Probably…

With my wits challenged and my brain working overtime, I reflectively sauntered to the bar.

At 11:26a.m.

A little advice; never in your days of human existence should you let your moral fiber lead you to the bar at such an ungodly hour. Everything from then on is downhill. For one, the waitresses are never willing to serve because it’s their nap time. And if you’re lucky or unlucky enough as in my case, the other waitress you tipped over the weekend will carefully fill your glass with beer, then go ahead to drink the rest straight from the bottle. I didn’t mind. Partly because due to my meek nature I couldn’t help it and partly because she was going to offer me free pool games.

         

So the day slowly carried on, with me playing amateurs and sharing Eagles with the waitress. As fate would have it, I ran out of cash.

Time check, 5:43pm.

I discretely motioned beer-guzzling-free-pool waitress to request for another beer…on credit of course. Before, she had been speaking a poor but acceptable version of the Queen’s language but all of a sudden, it was as though we were down hood-rat district or as it’s commonly known-Kisenyi.

Talk to the hands flew in front of my tipsy, blurry eyed face and as I don’t understand hood-rat blabber, I just watched her lips motor-spit obscenities. It was at this point that I got what I’d come for in the first place; the comprehension that if I had gone to work, I would be retiring at this very moment and sipping on a well earned cold bottle of beer. Once again, the bar had solved my problem. At a cost of course…I’m going to have to walk to work tomorrow.