I just got home from the first of two days of training for Day Job. The training is mandatory for all supervisors and is meant to be intensive and thought-provoking.
It's also meant to be a cell-free zone, which is why I was forced to smuggle my phone into the building in my boot. Hey, my son is on a tropical island within range of a nuke and his safety plan, in the event of a missile warning, is to grab a corona, sit on the beach, and make some phone calls; if you think I will ever take a chance on missing that call, you are clearly taking advantage of Colorado's lenient pot laws.
Not that I ever hope to have to take that call, but, you know what I mean.
And, as is often the case, I digress.
So, the training has been on my radar for almost a year. I was among the very last of the company employees to take it, mainly because my schedule wouldn't accommodate it the first seven times it was offered, and, as this was the final opportunity, I didn't have much choice. The good news is, it didn't completely suck, and, it got me out of the office for a couple of days.
Plus, I had spent the weekend doing enjoyable things (including, going to the local community theater's production of Calendar Girls with Co-Worker Kristi and working on hobbies at home; I'm a party animal, what can I say?), so, the thought of two days of sipping the corporate kool-aid was tolerable.
Of course, now that I am home, all I want to do is slip into comfy jammies, turn on the fireplace, grab a glass of Pinot Grigio, and veg on the sofa. Actually, that's exactly what I'm going to do; consider it recharging for Day Two (when I will again don my highest cuffed boots for proper cell phone concealment).
It's good to have a plan.