Suffering the vacation hangover
Sometimes, I’m really starting to think that vacations just aren’t worth it.
Don’t get me wrong, if I got my way my entire existence would become nothing more than one long vacation – me, Kate, the beach, a good glass of scotch and a houseboy with a tropical name.
But the problem exists in the fact that I’m not rich and therefore must return to work, which is the worst part.
Call it a vacation hangover. It’s like a regular hangover, the headache is there, you regret all the bad decisions you made previously and you are pretty sure that someone hates you because of your actions.
Every time I return to work after a vacation, I am convinced my stuff will be boxed up and waiting for me at the front desk, where I will be unceremoniously removed from the building by Hank – the former wrestler they hired after I left for vacation.
It’s gotten to the point where I begin rehearsing possible excuses on my way to the office.
“Uh, yeah, I needed 240 pens because I want to be prepared in case there’s a shortage.”
“Yeah about those, they’re part of my religion and are supposed to be in there.”
“Show me where it says I can’t keep pets at the office. You didn’t let them out did you? Oh that’s not good.”
But it goes beyond that – I know that my vacation has screwed one of my coworkers, who is now dreaming up a plot to get even – probably for something that was an honest mistake.
For example, forgetting to complete some inane report, which causes the boss to have to do it, which causes him/her to become angry, so angry in fact that he tongue lashes Robert who simply asked where the coffee filters were stored.
So while I’m on vacation, Robert is getting assaulted like the guy who orders the spritzer at the sports bar.
I’ve discovered that the older I get, the more depressed I become when I return to work – in essence, my vacation hangovers are getting worse.
Take for example my recent trip to Chicago. It was wonderful, I got to eat excellent food, watch some football, see Wrigley Field and spent time with Kate – overall a great three days.
Then I came back to work, just looking at my desk, all the clutter, all the paper that represents the pile of work that lays before me, it was just utterly depressing.
Like finding out you won the lottery – in Latvia.
Let’s break this down – you spend the week before your vacation working extra hard to make sure your work is done, most likely neglecting your health with some excuse about “how it will all be worth it if I can just make it to the end of the week” and you get sick.
So now, you spend your entire vacation in bed, feeling lousy and surviving only because Managua keeps your NyQuil drip going and as soon as you start to feel better and your vacation is over, you return to work only to be summarily pelted with staples by Robert.
Maybe the solution is to take a little mini-vacation, you know sort of the “Hair of the dog” approach.
It’s starting to get to the point that I need to kind of ease back into work. Like vacation rehab.
“OK, I’ll come in to work Monday, but I still get to wear my swim trucks.”
Somehow I don’t think Hank would agree to that – he seems kind of frazzled, maybe he needs a vacation.
Ever suffered from a vacation hangover? Tell me about it on the Party of One blog at http://www.nevadaappeal.com/partyofone
• Jarid Shipley is the Features Editor for the Nevada Appeal. Contact him a email@example.com or 881-1217.