Photo by antwerpenR

I’ve never been the guy at work who gets in before anyone else.  I’m usually the last one to leave at night, but that’s a different story.  While I’m rarely late, I do tend to arrive just under the wire.  But when I walk through the door, I’m already in 5th gear.  I don’t need a ten-minute warmup.  Let’s go!  But something has been slowing me down lately, and it’s screwing with my instincts.

I worked with an “early guy” once.  Clapton liked to get to work early - real early, like 45 minutes before our official start time.  He’d unpack, read the paper, and wait for me to come scrambling in before the bell.  He’d ease into the day, while I came in with guns blazing.  I’d arrive, bags under my blood-shot eyes, strung out from walking our screaming, colic-stricken baby around all night.  Early for me in those days was ten minutes late.  Where’s my coffee?

I equated myself with one of those rubber-armed relief pitchers, like Mike Stanton, who could be ready at a moments’ notice.  Contrast my readiness with Clapton’s, who needed to go through elaborate ritual each morning so that he could get “in the zone”.  I could hit the ground running, a skill that I haven’t lost in the years since.  Clapton was more like Mike Mussina, who needed all of the stars to align, otherwise, his day would be “ruined”.  We’d open the day with the same dialogue:

Clapton: So, how many hours sleep last night?

Me: About two and a half.

Clapton: I don’t know how you do it.

Tell you the truth, I didn’t know how I did it, either.  It was probably a combination of too much caffeine, new parent anxiety, and the constant threat of layoffs.  Not having a pot to piss in or a corner to throw it in will wake you up pretty quickly.  Especially when you throw a baby into the mix.  Whatever kept me going back then, I think that I still have it in me to this day (they probably have a pill for it by now).  Hence, my newfound irritation.

Something happens when I arrive at work (and it’s not just the stress-induced clenching of my sphincter).  I’m able to put the rest of my life out of my mind, and think of only work for the next ten hours.  The instant that I swipe my badge at the entrance, I’m on the clock and working.  As I climb the stairs to my office, I’ll run through my calendar in my mind.  Which is a good thing, given how long it takes for my PC to boot up. 

See, that’s the new irritation.  My company has installed some God-awful security software that takes forever to load.  Yesterday, it took forty minutes to get to my email.  This would be perfect for Clapton, who could read the paper while his computer boots.  But I’m pulling my hair out, screaming at the goddamn thing to finish loading.  So, I have two choices:

1.  Become an “early guy”, like my old buddy Clapton, and read the paper while the evil software loads, or
2.  Leave myself in “logged in” status, and only shut the machine down at the end of the week.

I’m leaning toward Option #2.  I know that I’m using electricity, which leads to more energy being wasted.  But think of all of my energy being wasted, waiting for my PC to boot up.  Forty minutes a day of my time could get pretty expensive for the company.

Or, maybe it’s time for a quaalude.

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