It's a bustling Monday morning at Branault-White group. On the five minute journey from the lobby to my desk, I passed a myriad of melancholy faces. 'The Monday Blues' I suppose.
I've never understood why one particular day of the week receives so much unwarranted hatred. I realize the work/school week usually begins on a Monday, but each day has the potential for wretchedness. Ever had a terrible Thursday? Trust me, you have. My favorite dog, Romeo, died on a Wednesday.
Oh! Would you like to know which days of the week you're most likely to be in a car accident?
Well, I'm telling you anyways...
3. Friday, T.G.I.F.? I think not.
2. Sunday funday?
*drum roll please*
1. Good ole Saturday
My point is, I feel like people need to cut Monday a little slack. He's like an unruly step-child. Monday may not feel like your other kids, but treating him badly will only make him act worse and make you a terrible person. So, give Monday some love, drink an extra cup of coffee, and focus on the good parts.
The elevator dings and an angry looking boss stomps toward my desk.
"Morning Charles," I beam, hoping to lighten his clearly dark mood.
He frowns. Mission-not accomplished. "I'm redirecting all my calls to your desk this morning. Do not put anyone through. I don't care if Mark Zuckerberg calls. Take. A. Message. Understood?"
Like a star struck teen, I stupidly inquire, "You know Mark Zuckerberg?"
Charles just squints his eyes at me, as if I'm some sort of creepy new insect. Then, he repeats himself, "No calls. Understood?"
"Crystal clear, Sir," I said. I hadn't meant to call him 'Sir', but when someone is speaking to you like a drill sergeant, it's hard not to respond like a cadet. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
I would say that Charles has fallen victim to 'a case of the Monday Blues', but I'm thinking his bad mood transcends 'days of the week' prejudice.
I hate when people are in bad moods. I have this inherent need to try and fix the problem. My success rate? Not exactly stellar. But, I don't let that stop me! I'll search for a solution until I've run out of options.
If I wasn't broke, I would try to buy people's happiness. I'd be like a more southern version of Oprah, but instead of handing out cars, (and you get a car! And you get a car!) I would give shopping sprees and season tickets to college football. (And you buy that dress! And you sit at that fifty yard line!)
But I'm broke. So instead, I try to be a good listener and do what I can to de-stress your day. And from the looks of it, Charles is more stressed than a cheating bride on her wedding day.
"Good mornin' sunshine!" Lizzy sing-songs, waddling over to the desk. And it's as if she's purposefully trying to be the antithesis of our boss. While Charles is dark roast coffee black, she's a unicorn frappuccino with extra whipped cream. "I had an amazin' weekend. How about you, Miss Emmy?" she asks, slowly lowering her body into the rolling office chair.
"Same old, same old," I responded, because other than complaining about a couple of old ladies, there wasn't anything exciting to tell. "Oh, but I did work a few hours overtime on Friday night. Charles asked me to stay and help out since you'd already left for the day."
"I knew he'd procrastinate on those contracts. Do tell! Which personality did he show up with? Was he 'Charles the ice queen', or 'Charlie the big ole teddy bear'?" Lizzy asked, with her signature smile.
I thought for a moment, then said, "Mostly teddy bear. Although, I did share my take-out food with him. Had I refused, ice queen would have probably made an appearance."
YOU ARE READING
For the Love of 'Old Money'
Romance********************************** "Um...it's from 'Branded', a burger place on Broome Street. They mostly sell burgers and fries," I say, like some redundant nitwit. Because what else would a burger place sell, Emmy? Duh! "Riiight," he drawls, addi...
