O.K., kids. Fun’s over. Recess has ended. Stick a fork in it. The bell rang. Turn out the lights. The party is in the past tense. Time for everyone to go back to work. Leave the house. You know you want to. In case you haven’t noticed, your city needs you. Downtown is dying. Transit needs you. Retail needs you. Waitresses need you. All those tax breaks your company got were predicated on the idea that the buildings it occupied would be occupied.
Besides you have to be tired of tuna fish by now and don’t forget about mercury poisoning (just ask your good buddy, RFK Jr.) For crum’s sakes, it’s been four years and you still can‘t make a decent cup of coffee. Let the pros do their job and you do yours. Wearing real pants and hard shoes. You got enough sweats to last three retirements. The cat thinks you nap too much and the dog wants the sunny side of the couch back. You can record those soaps and watch them when you get home. You know; like before.
Don’t you miss the necessary alone time of the commute? How about raiding the office supply closet? And the extra rolls of toilet paper in your gym bag. Seeing the light hit the printer and knowing it’s time to start packing up to hit the road. The random casual flirting. The air conditioning. That one time in the warehouse behind the stacks of dead fax machines. Those superb almond cookies the receptionist always brought to the Christmas, excuse me, Holiday, party. Grow up. Be an adult. Make your parents proud. Maybe your dad will stop sneering every time you mention work. Maybe not. He still has no idea what you do, no matter how many times you explain it. And when he calls during the day and hears your television in the background, you dread that knowing chuckle. Maybe if you show him an actual building that you work in, he won‘t demand to see your pay stubs any more. Monitoring financials for tax purposes, indeed. Come back downtown. You’ll be shocked at how light the traffic is. See what we’ve done to the place. You won’t recognize it. All the junkies are wearing clean clothes now. Ten percent fewer car break-ins. Lots of sales. Sure, some of them are close-outs. Merchants are actually happy to see you. Taco Tuesday is still a thing. And if you can park illegally, that would help. The city really needs the ticket revenue. Welcome back.
