Stopped Working

A couple of months ago I stopped working. I didn’t retire. I still go to the office. I collect a pay check. I just don’t work.

I used to work on those reports. I worked really hard. They’d always send them back, without fail, filled with critical notes. And I’d have to redo the whole thing. So, I said to myself, “Ryan, what’s the use? They don’t appreciate me.”

As far as I know, only my bosses ever saw my reports. I don’t know what they did with them. Probably just filed and forgot them.

Anyway, I’m done with that. When they email an order for a report, they get an auto-responder from me telling them I’m starting on it immediately and I’ll get it to you as soon as it’s done.

I’ve installed one of those portable putting greens in my office. I usually close the door when I practice, but sometimes somebody knocks and I just let them in. I let them make a few putts. I tell them it relaxes me while I’m working on important reports.

I also enjoy some off-sites meetings, either at the beach or on the links. Nobody needs to know. Nobody does.

I’ve been holding these monthly parties on the first Friday of the month—for “clients.” I’ve been charging them to my expense account. It’s fully catered. My friends really love the open bar.

I just got some good news. I’m getting a raise and a promotion! It seems that since I haven’t delivered any work in months, I haven’t produced anything that made my bosses dissatisfied with me.

I really need the raise. They’ve started cracking down on expense reports. To be safe, I’ve started paying for the parties myself. That open bar is killing me.