Hardly Working, or Totally Kaput?

If you've never wrapped up your workday by hanging around with a few coworkers you barely know, chatting convivially about how you never really do anything, you should give it a try.

"I don't think I've put in a 40-hour week this year," said one guy.

"Hell, I don't think I've put one in since my initial six-month probationary period ended," said another - who has been there for years and years and years, incidentally.

"I find that, by the time I've gotten all set up and ready to get started in the morning, it's about time for break," I remarked.

"I probably don't put in but about five hours a day," the first guy added.

The rest of us just stared at him. Five hours? Sounds like somebody's bucking for a promotion.

And I know she terrorizes my dear friend Robbie, but I do like Bitching Smoker, I do. One of the guys was complaining - humorously, but still a little misogynistically - about how much money his wife spends. "I just can't keep up with her," he was saying as B.S. walked by.

She stopped, and snorted. "Can't keep up with who - your mother?"

"No, no, I can't keep up with my wife!"

"Well, that's hardly surprising. She's half your age!"

Oh, snap!

B.S. was also highly annoyed that we are not having a going-away lunch for my friend and next-door cube neighbor (until Monday - sniff), Bill, though I explained that he preferred not to have one. "Who cares what he wants?!" she demanded. "The rest of us want to go to lunch!"*

She kept looking at me, and I didn't know what to say. So I just shrugged, and brought out the time-honored feminine exclamation: "Men!"

Then it was time to go home, and not a moment too soon. I probably put in a good two and a half, three hours' solid work today. Don't hate me because I'm industrious.

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*I know, I know.