Mondays.. Just Got to Love Them

Mondays, do you not just love them? We all enjoy our weekends. For me it does not matter if I help my wife around the house, take the kids to see a movie, even church on Sunday.

You look forward to Friday’s knowing you have two days away from the madness of work in just hours.

I am sure it is plain to tell; I am a weekend guy, with Monday being the most hated day of the week.

Going to work on a Monday morning, I put on my best face for my coworkers. A morning cup of coffee at least makes me feel I can do it!

Look out Monday, I am ready for you.

All in all, I manage to handle most Mondays. However, as we all well know, there are always exceptions. For me, one Monday stands out.

My wife and I had tickets to see the singer Andrea Bocelli in the city. The tickets cost me an arm and a leg, but every penny was worth it. My poor wife had been asking for years to see him. I kept putting it off because the ticket prices were way more than I wanted to spend. So, I bought the best seating at the concert hall.

I spoke with my boss about the concert and would need to leave no later than four o’clock. He came up to me around noon. Because he was not feeling well, he was going home. He assured me my leaving at four o’clock was fine. He spoke with the office manager and cleared it with her.

That Monday seemed to go slow. It did not help my co-workers kept coming up and telling me the office manager would not let me out early. At first it did not bother me, but as the day went on, I could not take it. When one of them approached, I just yelled, “STOP.”

Making it worse, it was snowing, so the roads would be bad, the trains would run late, making the odds of us being late getting into the city. I kept looking out the window of my twelfth-floor office, seeing the snow piling up.

Looking at the clock on the desk did not help. Every minute that ticked by was driving me nuts.

Finally, I reached the boiling point. I decided to see the office manager and ask her if I could leave at three o’clock instead of four.

Normally, she is an understanding and caring person. Apparently, I picked the wrong Monday.

Knocking on her office door, I heard a loud voice.

“This better be important!”

Carefully, I opened her door and started to go in. Before I could even speak a word. I was greeted with,

“I am having a bad day. Whatever you want will have to wait.”

So, I closed her door and started back to my office. It seemed like everyone in the office came up to me and asked what happened. Funny how brave and forceful others are when they are not involved. I heard everything from “if it was me,” or “you can’t let her push you around,” to “If I were you.”

Finally, about two-thirty, I went back to her office. This time, gently knocking on her door.

I heard her shout. “Miller if that’s you STOP. I don’t have time for petty requests.”

When my desk clock neared three o’clock. I had no choice but to try a third time.

Everybody in the office watched me as I walked towards her office. Each wishing me good luck booming or patting me on the back.

As before, I gave her door a gentle knock. This time, I was ready for her shouting. I stepped back from the door, preparing for the coming sonic boom.

This time I heard a calm voice said, “Come on in Miller, I know it is you.”

She stood up from behind her desk and walked over to me.

My mind had all kinds of thoughts. She was going to fire me, not let me go home early or transfer me to our Chicago office.

“Please sit-down Bob. I want to apologize for my inappropriate behavior to you.”

I did not see that one coming.

As I sat down, she went back behind her desk.

“I know it is almost three and you wanted to leave. But I want to explain why I have been so short with you.”

From the look on her face, I knew something serious was wrong.

“Bob, just before you came in the first time. I had just found out my eighty-year-old mother fell while shoveling her porch. Thank God her neighbor was out and called 911. She broke her right wrist and hurt her shoulder. She lives in Traverse City Michigan over eight hundred miles from here.”

I understood why she spoke that way to me.

“Boss, I am so sorry to hear that about your mother.”

She tried to smile. “That is still no excuse. I am leaving now to head to the airport to catch a flight to Traverse City. How about you leave now with me and head home. Jeff told me before he left you and your wife are going into the city to see Bocelli. Instead of taking the train I will have my driver pick the two of you up, take you to the performance and bring you home.”

I could not said thank you enough to her.

“Bob, for God’s sake you can STOP. I happy to help you. Get your coat and let’s get out of here.”

We took the elevator down to the lobby and walked out together.

I smiled at her. “Your mom will be so glad to see you.”

“Enjoy your concert.”

With that I headed home and told my wife the news about not having to take a train.

The stress from that Monday disappeared, and we enjoyed Andrea Bocelli.