This morning, as I was getting out of bed, I tripped over a stapler. (Luckily, my nose broke my fall.) A few minutes later I accidentally stuck myself in the eye with a telephone cord. It was turning out to be a bad day. The bus I usually take to work pulled into the stop promptly at 9 o’clock and the driver got up from behind the wheel, exited through the side door and never looked back. When midday rolled around and the bus driver hadn’t yet returned, there was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t make it into work for 9:30. Mr. Weinstein was going to be furious. But I can’t say I would blame him since Mr. Weinstein, a character in a novel I was reading, is only two pages from finding out that his wife has been having an affair with his brother for the last 15 years. He first suspected something was wrong two weeks ago when in the middle of a heated argument his wife announced that she had been having an affair with his brother for the last 15 years. But still, nothing could prepare him for what he was about to discover. But enough about Mr. Weinstein; what’s even more worrisome is how upset my boss, Mr. Davies, would be when I came strolling into work a full three hours and a day late. I’m afraid I cannot deny it. Yesterday, when my alarm clock went off at 8:30am, I hit the snooze button and it didn’t go off again until 8:45 this morning. Can you imagine the embarrassment of showing up on the first Monday morning of a new job at 12:30 in the afternoon on Tuesday? I’m no pessimist, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this would significantly compromise my chances for that promotion next month. Then again, it doesn’t hurt to remain hopeful.
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