Work Isn’t Work

On Friday evenings, the BF’s family gets together at a local pizza parlor for pizza. It’s something they’ve done for a long time and the BF and his sister are both pretty sure it’s a thinly disguised ploy on their mother’s part to make sure she gets to see her kids at least once a week.

This means I don’t work late on Fridays.

To be fair, I learned a long time ago that it was utterly pointless to work late on Fridays because clients were forever standing me up or canceling last minute when their Friday-night-out plans conflicted with their nail appointments. Still, the BF’s family “pizza and beer” tradition meant adjusting my Friday night schedule to get out of here about an hour to an hour-and-a-half earlier than my previous schedule.

This means we are still “late” to pizza as a matter of routine.

The BF is a mechanic; he gets dirty all day at work. He also gets paid on Fridays and direct deposit is not an option for him. This means that when he gets off work on Fridays, he has to first drive all the way across town to his bank and then all the way back across town to our house where he has to greet dogs, check email, and take a shower before we can head out to pizza anyway.

Between us, we can’t get anywhere before 7 p.m. Pizza starts at 6:30.

Last week, we were a little later than usual because I couldn’t get out of the salon until after 6:30. When we arrived at our weekly pizza destination my would-be sister-in-law was curious about what had held us up.

I told her I was stuck at work.

She said, “Oh. Sorry.”

I was genuinely perplexed by her condolences. I asked her what she was sorry for? She replied, “You know, because, work.”

Well we all know I’ve been a little less enthusiastic about my job for a few months, but here’s a darn good sign that things are looking up:

I could not for the life of me understand why she thought being stuck at work was a bad thing?!

Does my sister-in-law not understand what I do for a living? I looked at her with a confused sort of expression and basically asked her something along those lines. Then I offered her my condolences that what she does for a living has given her the impression that “work” is a place you don’t want to be.

She and her hubby both laughed at the exchange and I proudly reminded them that my business involves tax-deductible glitter!

Honestly. Some people just don’t get it.

This is a pretty sweet gig. Even on the days I don’t like my job — I still love being here.

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