Scrooge'd

It's the day before the Christmas break, here at my first real job. It's kind of funny when things like snow days and short days break up the monotony of the regular schedule. People congregate by cubicles talking about what they're buying, or baking, or doing. Jokes are called out over the walls and work is slowed down.

I'm still trying to get last minute things done before we leave for the day at one and it struck me, as I brought some work over to the head designer and she and my boss stopped their conversation about Christmas dinner, that I am reminding myself of those mid-eighties comedies where the young go-getter doesn't take a break for the work place festivities, only to learn a lesson the hard way come Christmas night. I print off the work, highlight what needs to be done and expect it in on time, then head back to my desk to answer emails (fortunately, not on those black screens with the blocky green text, like I always see in these movies.) Maybe I'll be played by a young Michael J. Fox, or a Phoebe Cates, if it's a girl's movie. My mother will be played by Dianne Wiest. I can see myself now, swept away by a tide of red and green sweatered shoppers while I'm trying to get my last minute gifts, because I was working too hard. I'll have to climb over them in a mad panic and my trench coat will be knotted around me. I'll be swinging bags full of gifts like makeshift weapons.

Man, I need to stop watching AMC's holiday movie line up.