Mondays

I encountered someone with “The Mondays” today, and the result was not one many might desire. Those unfamiliar should know that having The Mondays basically involves experiencing the frustrations in life that might only seem to occur on Mondays – the oft-dreaded start to a work week. The origins of the phrase are unknown (as far as I’m concerned… The Writings: Who Says Writing Involves Research?), but said phrase was made popular in the film “Office Space,” in which an ultimate result is a scheme gone wrong followed by workplace arson. It’s true, The Mondays are not anything to take lightly.

As far as I’m aware, if you have ever said any of the following, you may have suffered from a case of The Mondays:

- “I lost my keys.”

- “I locked my keys in my car.”

- “I locked my car in my house.”

- “I lost my house.”

- “I overslept.”

- “I underslept.”

- “I slept in my neighbor’s boat.”

- “I slept under my neighbor’s boat.”

- “My girlfriend discovered that my sales job at Vandelay Industries is a farce.”

- “My coworkers discovered that my girlfriend is a farce.”

- “I discovered that my life is a farce.”

- “My credit card was declined at lunch.”

- “My credit card was declined at lunch with a client.”

- “My presence was declined at lunch with a client, though he did ask for my credit card to stay.”

- “My dog ran away.”

- “My cat ran away.”

- “My goldfish ran away, despite the fact that it cannot run.”

- “Someone keyed my car.”

- “Someone vandalized my home.”

- “17 yokels that were raised by shrews robbed my home, hijacked my car, and left me with nothing but a 1989 Don Aase baseball card and a pair of non-matching socks.”

- “I lost one of my non-matching socks.”

Whether or not the girl I encountered today had previously uttered any of the above remains a mystery, as I don’t make it a habit of asking strangers for printed transcripts of their daily conversations and inner monologues upon meeting them. No, the first clue of this case of the Mondays unfortunately came at my expense.

(Insert appropriate appalled gasp here.)

While the drive-thru attendee at my favorite local fast-food establishment passed my order through the comically small window, she managed to fumble my cup and spill a portion of my carbonated beverage. The splash zone was unfortunate, somehow extending from my driver’s side window all the way to the passenger seat. Had it not been for the fact that my pants resided in said splash zone, I might have marveled at the way the soda seemed to defy physics. Instead, I put napkins into immediate action, attempting to sop the pop before my car seats were stained and my cup-holder was left in a sticky state that would make future passengers wonder why I had apparently attempted to manufacture taffy in my motor vehicle.

Alas, it was not the fact that the drive-thru gatekeeper also gave me stale French fries, or the fact that she forgot to provide some ketchup packets (despite specifically asking me if I might desire extra ketchup – a query to which I responded, “Yes, that would be great.” … Apparently, she was just taking a survey...) that cemented my diagnosis of this case of The Mondays. No, said realization came directly after the employee chose to baptize my dungarees with Pepsi. Rather than apologize profusely (or even minimally), she instead followed with “I think that cup spilled a little.”

Apparently she was curious whether the Mondays were contagious.