Yes I'm tired.

For some time now I've been blaming it on advancing age, poor blood, lack of vitamins, air pollution, the ozone hole, saccharin, obesity, dieting, foot odour, yellow wax build-up in the ear, the after effects of ever-lengthening long hikes, and other maladies that make one wonder if life is really worth living.

But I found out that it ain't any of the above.

I'm tired because I'm overworked!

The population of the country (Ireland) is 4 million.
1 million are retired.
That leaves 3 million to do 'the work'.
There are 1 million are too young, or in school and college.
That leaves 2 million to do 'the work'.
750,000 are unemployed or staying at home, and 250,000 are directly employed by the government.
That leaves 1 million to do 'the work'.
200,000 are in the armed or security forces, 200,000 are employed by County Councils, leaving 600,000 to do 'the work'.
There are 420,000 people in hospitals, and 179,000 in prison.

That leaves 2 people to do 'the work'.

You and me!

And since you are doing nothing but reading this, its no wonder I'm TIRED!

and now
The Mathematics of the working year

  1. There are 365 days per year available for work.

  2. We already have 2 days off per week (remember? Saturdays and Sundays?) for 52 weeks per year, i.e. 104 days. This leaves 261 days available for work.

  3. But we don't spend the entire day at work. Since we spend 16 hours each day away from the office, we have used up 174 days. This leaves only 87 days available for work.

  4. We spend 30 minutes each day on a coffee break which counts for another 16 days each year, leaving only 69 days available.

  5. With a one-hour lunch each day, we use up another 32 days, leaving only 37 days available for work.

  6. We get four weeks' paid holidays a year, or 20 days, leaving only 17 days for work.

  7. We also get nine public holidays, so 8 days are left.

  8. In our company we can normally take less than three days off sick without a doctor's cert, but you can only do this three times a year. So that's 6 days, leaving just 2 days left.

  9. So now our available working time is down to 2 days.  We want to skive off for one of them, and use the other one up in a snowstorm, OK?

Now I'm bored, fed up, ye know the feeling. In a sentence....

It's one of those typical dull wet Friday mornings when you just KNOW you're going to be bored out of your skull at work and, besides, it started badly enough earlier on when you woke up with this bodhran player in your head and you had to sit down to brush your teeth, and you put both contact lenses into the same eye and you can actually see better now, and the bird singing gently outside your window has turned out to be a large vulture, meanwhile the post has arrived already for a change (bills bills spam spam bills) and you now have to borrow from your Visa card to pay your Mastercard, and from the Credit Union to pay Visa, and from your little sister to pay the Credit Union, and nothing you own is actually paid for, so in your latest state of dark and ceaseless penury you decide to be decisive for a change so you grab your coat and a slice of burned black toast and you also realise that you've just managed to lock yourself out of your own flat oh f*** f*** f*** and after a wet 12-minute walk you reach the bus "shelter" (alias "base camp") with Sherpa Tensing (aka that bloke from the flat downstairs to whom you still owe 1.50c and a lightbulb, so you still have to be really nice to him) and you're both getting splashed by several large passing vehicles while you wait for four buses in a row which are all full of vicious pensioners anyway, and when you do eventually get to work after being thumped with umbrellas by another bunch of marauding pensioners who jump the bus queue, it's nearly 11 o'clock already so you might as well sneak into the kitchen and "mingle" and cover your tracks in the coffee break, only you end up stuck between Your Boring Project Boring Manager who still hasn't been indicted for war crimes (yet), and Ken the Jellyfish Blancmange Carrigeen Moss Impersonation from Accounts and oh by the way doesn't everybody love your new company ID card picture except you, and they all think you're 40 and you're really only 28, and a half, and you've only been in work a mere three hours and 20 minutes today before you notice that your fly's been open or your blouse has been unbuttoned for all of that eternity, and you're still bored out of your rainforest canopy, only the health inspector then pops by and condemns the coffee machine, oh and your mum has just called to say she actually approves of the fairly one-dimensional cardboard replica of a person you've been dating on and off but mostly off for the past month or so and strictly for s.e.x. anyway, and your GP's scary secretary has left a very distorted message on your voicemail in a Dalek impersonation telling you that the results have come back and you are allergic to chocolate as we suspected all along I'm afraid, and the next message is from your flatmate in a panic cos the cable's on the blink again and you can't get anything except (a) "The Cassidys", (b) "The Web Review" and (c) "Telly Bingo" with Shirley Temple Bar, and then when you phone the fortune teller she sees into your future and offers you a refund..

Everybody, Somebody, Nobody & Anybody

Once upon a time, there were four people;

Their names were Everybody, Somebody, Nobody and Anybody.

Whenever there was an important job to be done, Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.

Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.

When Nobody did it, Everybody got angry because it was Everybody's job.

Everybody thought that Somebody would do it, but Nobody realized that Nobody would do it.

So consequently Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done in the first place.

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Copyright © 1999 N. O'Byrne