I was having a terrible day. Like one of those purposely exaggerated “start-of-a-romantic-comedy” kinda days. The night before I had a bit too much to drink, which lead into me not hearing my morning alarm. I was awaken by a subtle, yet increasedly-rapid movement near my leg. It was my dog Rexy humping me like there was no tomorrow. I should have been mad, but instead I was grateful because she woke me up from my coma and, quite frankly, that was the most action my bed had seen in months.
I was already about 2 hours late to work and was too afraid to call-in. This was my third strike, so I had to think of a reason good enough to justify my lateness. While I was taking a shower, I considered my options:
Option A- Diarreah. A classic. Everyone knows this option is embarrassing enough that people don’t lie about it, yet serious enough that people genuinely feel sorry for you. Seriously, a sneeze could ruin your whole day. This option was a no-brainer, except I had already used it 2 weeks ago to go to a concert of a band I’ve never even heard off. (Don’t judge, I was trying to get laid).
Spoiler alert: I didn’t get laid. Next option:
Option B- I was in a car accident. Think about it. When you are in a car accident, the last thing you think of is calling in to work. It is a long process full of police reports, yelling at people, worrying about your insurance deductible, and wondering why you decided to get “The General” auto insurance from that VH1 commercial. I mean it was probably the jingle. “For best car insurance rates online, go to The General to save some time!” Dammit, now I’ll have that stuck on my head! Anyways, I could tell everyone at work that a car came out of no-where and hit the side of my car. I could tell them that the guy had to go to the hospital and the police took forever to get there. I could fake limp and talk about how lucky I am to be alive. These would all work if it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t own a car and I ride a bike to work every day.
C’mon man, get it together! Alright, do I’ll just go with my last option:
Option C- The classic “OH-MY-GOD-I-wrote-my-schedule-wrong-I-am-so-sorry-it-won’t-happen-again” move. I consider myself a very good actor. I mean in middle school, my acting skills did get me promoted from Tree #7 to the Mad Hatter in our production of Alice in Wonderland. Well, my acting skills, along with the fact that Rodney got sick and I fit in the costume. Anyways, I’ll just go to work like I’m just in time, and then, I’ll throw in some puppy eyes and apologize if confronted. That’s it! Oh, Oscar, you geniously-handsome son of a bitch!
So I am finally ready, my head is pounding from the night before, and my breath is still so disgustingly alcoholic, than not even chugging Listerine helped. “Never again”- I delusionally said to myself. I got on my bike and immediately fell. Twice. After finally finding balance, I rode my rusty excuse of a bike to my sad excuse of a job. I walked in trying not to draw any attention to myself which is especially difficult given my handsome appearance. I was able to clock-in and made it to my office without being noticed by management.
“Alright Oscar! You made it! Another day without getting fired!”- I thought to myself. Yes, I refer to myself in third person, even on my thoughts.
Twenty minutes into my newly-adjusted shift, my manager Larry walks into my office. Larry is the worst! I have never met a cool Larry now that I think about it. Larry is a name that your parents give you when they chicken out of the morning-after pill and can’t afford the aborsh. (That’s short for abortion. Cute, I know!)
“Nice try!”- Larry annoyingly said.
“What are you talking about?”- I asked in an Academy-Award-winning performance. Seriously, Meryl Streep would’ve been proud.
“You are more than 2 hours late! This is your third attendance issue and we had already given you a final warning!”- Larry said in such a convincingly sharp manner suggesting that he had been anticipating this moment for all his life.
That’s when I decided to bring it home. I explained my fake situation with equal parts shame, disappointment, and charm. My eyes got teary. I explained how I really considered him my mentor for my future development. I closed it all up with an apology so sincere-sounding that it would’ve made Mother Theresa sound like garbage. “Top notch stuff Oscar, you may have even gotten yourself a promotion!”- I confidently thought.
“I am sorry Oscar, I didn’t mean to upset you this much!”- Larry said.
“Apology accepted! Now would you mind, I have a lot to work on!”- I responded in a douchey manner.
“No, I mean, I didn’t mean to upset you since you clearly had a rough night. And I’m just basing that on your stench, your appearance, and your Instagram feed from last night!”- He said in a tone so sarcastic that it would make a 13-year-old girl cry.
Silence filled the room.
“I’ll pick up my things before the end of the day.”- I defeatedly announced.
“I think that’ll be for the best!”- Larry said.
So that is the story of how I had a terrible day and lost my job. But hey, it’s not all bad. This was a great learning lesson. It taught me how you always need to be sincere. Always remain calm in tough situations. And never, under any circumstances, work with a Larry.
By Juan Salazar