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Monday, November 22, 2004

When Tim apologized, why did I say, “That’s okay”?

Why didn’t I say, “You know, the reason I asked for the time cards before noon today was so I could do the payroll in time for you to get paid before the long holiday weekend. By giving me the time cards at 5:30 pm, you’re forcing me to choose between working another four or five hours on a Monday night so that I can get the paychecks in the mail tomorrow, or having you complain to me next week because your checks didn’t get to you on time.”

Why didn’t I say that?

Obviously, I’m a wimp. I already knew I was going to work the extra hours tonight, because I don’t want to hear any complaints. If the guys on the crew don’t get paid by Friday, they won’t be able to drink themselves to oblivion over the weekend. Or they’ll have to borrow money from Tim himself, he who never cashes his own paychecks so that I have to carry them over as outstanding checks from month to month for-nearly-ever.

Also, I knew his apology wasn’t exactly heart-and-soul genuine. “Sorry” is his way of getting off the hook for doing what he was going to do anyway. He might have intended to follow through, but if it became even a little inconvenient (and it wouldn’t have had to go very far around that bend), well, then, “sorry” is a lot easier than the truth. (The truth, of course, being “not sorry at all.”)

22 November 2004

Cloud signature.

It wasn’t so bad. I was finished before 9:00 pm, but doing payroll that late did cut into the time I’d set aside for other things. Like eating, for example. I couldn’t have finished that early if I’d taken time for dinner, or anything personal like that. A person can grow quite hungry and hollow by 9:00 if he hasn’t had anything to eat since his midday Raisin Bran Crunch.

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Other than that, it wasn’t a bad day, for a Monday. When I got my first phone call today, Julie told me that she had deliberately not called until after noon because she wanted to wait until I was awake. That was either very thoughtful of her, or some kind of shot. I don’t really care which, as long as I get left alone in the morning.

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One year ago: Forty Years
"As my friend and I were making our way toward world history, a seventh grader came running across the empty playground. As he passed, he shouted, 'They shot the president!'"

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