Monday, Monday

Posted on July 29, 2014 under Storytelling with one comment

Don’t you wish that Mondays looked this good?

“…but whenever Monday comes, you can find me crying all of the time.”

Monday, Monday   – The Mamas and the Papas

Would anyone strenuously object if Mondays were cancelled?

If you are a working stiff like me, there’s only one thing worse than a Monday and that would be Sunday evening.  The mere thought of Monday as Sunday night draws to a close is almost enough to ruin a perfectly good weekend.  You start thinking about Monday morning just after Sunday dinner and immediately there is a slight gnawing in the pit of your stomach.  You know that you will have the crummiest sleep of the week on Sunday night.

You peer at the clock and realize that you must get up.  The only thing between you and civility is a brown bean from Columbia, finely ground with boiling water poured slowly through.  God forbid that you rise two minutes later than normal, because the remainder of the day will be completely out of step.  It’s going to be bad enough.

You arrive at your place of work and all you can think of is the next cup of coffee.  You know that this is the one which just might propel you into the day.  The one that might give you a chance of being a civilized human being.

You look in the waiting area and see someone waiting.  That client.  The one who seems to show up early on Monday morning, or late Friday afternoon as you prepare to lock the door.  This person has arrived very early, without an appointment, and he wants to see you and only you.  He is standing between you and the coffee maker and you wonder quietly if it is a crime to run someone over before high noon.

You lurch through the morning like a novice driver trying a standard shift for the first time.  You jerk back and forth and sputter, trying to find the elusive cruising gear.  It never comes.

Invariably there is an equipment malfunction every Monday.  Your computer freezes and your printer refuses to print.  There are more swear words uttered on a Monday than during the remaining days of the work week combined.

What does Monday taste like?  It has the texture of dried out liver.  It smells like a dead skunk on the side of the highway.  It sounds like finger nails being dragged down an old slate chalk board.  It feels like a bad hangover without the benefit of the party the night before.

So I say, let’s do away with Monday.  Extend the work hours from Tuesday to Friday.  And if this is not possible, then start work on Monday at noon time.  Give people a chance to find the strength and inner peace to face the week.  Trust me.  This won’t harm the economy and might actually save lives and conserve millions of dollars for the health care system.

Let’s begin the week a few hours or a day later and let Monday unfold gently.

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