Conspiracy of One: Boxing Day Dawn
In a few fleeting moments, Christmas will be a memory and it will be Boxing Day. Odd enough, I’m American and shouldn’t really care about tomorrow, but heck, Boxing Day is a holiday nonetheless.
Ask me where this Christmas ranks in the history of days, and I’ll tell you it was a sucky work day. I’ve discovered over the last two days that people really don’t have lives. It’s pathetic that some people find it opportune to annoy us Starbuckers when they should be at home with their families. My reason for being at work? Holidays are holidays, not days off.
Coworkers? Meh, lamentable. Customers? Expendable. Guy? Dependable. It was a whirlwind of a sales blitz, and markedly so, holidays didn’t affect my outlook; seek and destroy will be the mantra of the empire until the empire is no more.
At home, there was and still is plenty of food. It’s nice being with family for a few hours, because customers aren’t family…they’re leeches. Miserable bloodsucking leeches who operate the economy. A few jokes about my sister being drunk, and a lecture about capturing dominance ended my night. Let’s see, I think I’m forgetting something important here…ah yes, the commercialism.
My wallet is lined with money, and my car seats are singed with flames. I’ll most likely opt for the same sweatshirt Bill Belichick wears on the sidelines; I’ve yet to decide if I’m cutting off the sleeves.
However, I received a couple of fairly significant gifts that reflect my name: priceless. At work, I was visited by my rival, Ariel. I haven’t seen her in approximately two years. It was a welcome surprise, and something that set events in motion. As the world progresses, this year will end in a week’s time with my docket far from completion. More on that later.
My other surprise was Jordan dropping by and handing me my ass on a silver platter in Tekken 5. I haven’t been trounced that thoroughly in months. Fun seeing my best friend on a commercial holiday. We should’ve popped a bottle of cider, but then again, I had two bottles of cider at work, and I’ll probably pop another before I doze off. Good times at Team Corporate Tower.
Again, back to my point: my list of goals remained incomplete for the sixth consecutive year, due to the same goal. Of course, I’d probably grow complacent, charging this year to the game and getting read for the next year accordingly. However, seeing Ariel jumpstarted that feeling exponentially. Sure, I like her and all, but let’s face it, we’re rivals. Rivalries don’t die, particularly good ones. In seven days, 2007 will come to a close, which gives me six days to scout my next move. Next year, more accountability, more determination, and more success. Someone call the governor and get a pardon, because next year, I’m going headhunting for sport. Thanks Ariel for the visit…and thanks Jordan for the beating. Both of you have pretty much sealed the world’s fate.
Now how do I start my road to reinventing the Palace of Wisdom? By reading Tony Dungy’s book. Why hasn’t Bill Belichick written a book? More importantly, why did my mother get me the book of his mortal enemy? Skibbedebebop. Much later.
Current Track – A Fine Frenzy “Almost Lover”