SRS Report for the Week of May 28, 2017

• The break room refrigerator. If anything will make you want to withdraw from the rest of humanity, it is this abomination. And I say this knowing I’m part of the problem, adding my own spicy leftovers to the already volatile mix. But there are some smells emanating from that thing which defy even the most jaded imagination.  “What is that you’ve got there? An opossum and cabbage juice? Nice choice.”
  

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• That sense of injustice you get on the highway. A guy passed me going 30 mph over the speed limit. 30 mph!  I was livid.  The rest of us were going 15 to 25 mph over the speed limit, as is clearly acceptable. What a jerk.
  

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• Dates out with just one of my many kids.  It reminds me of how precious time with them is. And where all my money went.  “So THIS is what dinner for two costs!”
  

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• Meanwhile back at the gym. In most of the showers at my gym, there’s a plastic lawn chair, the type you might buy at Home Depot if you were expecting great Aunt Tilly for a backyard barbecue. I completely understand the need for these, as some folks need the assistance.  Or perhaps guys are exhausted from their hour-long swims and have no energy to stand for the 5-minute shower, which is also fine.  I just hope they incinerate them at the end of every day/shift/half-hour, that’s all.
  

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• Fish Injustices. I was chowing down on a package of ‘Dolphin-Safe” tuna this week (because I didn’t exercise and then shower next to the E. coli lawn chair just to blow it all on a delicious, mouthwatering burger or a giant burrito . . . Mmmmm, giant burrito), and was floored by the hypocrisy.  Sure, it’s safe for the dolphins, but what about the other fish involved here, namely the tuna?

“No Dolphins were harmed while making the delicious food you’re eating.”

“How many Tuna were harmed?”

“All of them, and more. ‘Cause they’re stupid, and just begging to be eaten.”

(I should note this is just highfalutin philosophical talk.  I would never eat a dolphin.  Because my daughter would never speak to me again. And they look rubbery.)

• School’s Out!: I like seeing all of the First-day-of-school-vs-Last-day-of-school photos.  I think we need these in the work-a-day world, one taken when you start your career, your eyes bright, your demeanor eager and hopeful, your physique overall healthy and unblemished by the rigors of time.

Cut to the last The “Last Day” photo, taken at your retirement reception, your eyes tired and drained of energy, your smile genuine and only freshly rediscovered as you realize that this is the last day you have to pretend to care about how successful the company is.  You’re decked out in full fishing garb, including tan hat, vest and fly rod. Your ample belly hangs out over the waistband of your cargo shorts and your socks are pulled up on your calves like you just don’t care. Your knee surgery scar pulsates, and your high blood pressure makes itself known in the impossible red hue of your face and neck.

You’ve never been happier.

. . . Until next week . . .