What’s worse than have a seemingly open weekend just to have a buddy text you asking what you’re doing Saturday afternoon. Tee times are morning, bars are at night, afternoons are for people who need something out of you.
They say bullshit trigger phrases like “lunch is on me” or “I’ll stock the fridge with beer”. It’s all inflated. Mediocre ass plain pizza eaten with dirty hands. Beers? Pshh, yeah right. We’ll have two or three off the rip, realize we’re sweating it out immediately, and switch to waters within in an hour from the dehydration.
Moving someone in, moving someone out, putting in a pool, getting a completely new furniture set. All nightmares. But the only people who have the right to ask you to sacrifice your day off is close friends. Scratch that, the only people who should be allowed to ask for your help is anyone you feel comfortable giving shit to for even asking. Ripping on the dickhead who asked you to do this bullshit with the other poor souls they suckered is the only silver lining. Laughing at how much it sucks with others is sometimes the only thing keeping you going.
But there are those who don’t afford us this luxury. I’m looking at you - in-laws, fair-weather neighbors, and worst of all, bosses. My boss asked me to put up his pool with him last week. I’ve never even used a power tool in my life. What the fuck do I know about installing pools? How did I thrash my boss for having the balls to ask me to work for him for free on my day off? “Absolutely, it’ll be fun. We’ll make a day out of it.”
Oh we made a day out of it alright. A twelve hour shift pro bono. What did I have to show for it? A soggy caesar wrap, a sore back, a sunburn that should be studied, and a hurt ego after I didn’t know the name of some stupid screwdriver.
Your lack of friends should not be my issue. Hire friends. Your authority over me has stolen all the fun out of it. The fact that I can’t take a deep sigh, and say in front of everyone “Hey, you’re a piece of shit for this”, means you’ve taken advantage of me. Now I have to somehow pretend like I’m enjoying myself wheelbarrowing sand back and forth in ninety degree weather.
But we still do it, right? Even if we fucking hate them for it. Being a good person is easy, but being a piece of shit is more fun. Nobody’s said you can’t be both. Complain in front of them to let them know how much of an asshole they are. And if you aren’t allowed to complain in the moment due to the imbalance of power, you can always write a whole blog bitching about it afterwards.
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