The Bench

Oh the bench.  I wish I were using the term to describe an athletic bench.  You know, “riding the pine”.  Staying active and alert, awaiting my turn to enter the game and hopefully dominate in some small, meaningless way.  But no, the bench is the 2^nd grade recital for consultants – a necessary, mind numbingly boring exercise full of children (or adults in this case) drunk of self-grandeur.  It is the period between projects where you sit at a computer in the main office, awaiting the next client or engagement.  Everyone asks the same questions in that barely alive tone of voice associated with fatally injured victims on those police procedural shows omnipresent on network television.  “What client were you at? Where do you think you’ll go next?  What are you working on now?” It’s like being on a date with a computer who has only been fed the “Wall Street Journal” as an example of human speech.

The worst is realizing that you shouldn’t be complaining.  It is really THAT bad that you don’t have anything to do and can leave at 5?  Or that sometimes you can work from home?  It really isn’t all that bad, save for the short, sweet descent into possible madness when you realize you are about as valuable to the firm as a granite statue of you.  Well that’s a bit unfair.  At least people can lean on and stick gum onto statues.  You just take up space and valuable oxygen.  I just realized I’m mouth breathing and there occupying more oxygen than usual.  I’m at a -2 for value today.

Working from home is fine, until your couch conforms to the shape of your body.  You struggle to find the motivation to do anything productive.  Oh let me check this website again for the 5^th time in the last 20 minutes, maybe they’ve updated it.  Have I read that story on runaway dogs in Canada yet?  No but maybe I should to kill off 7 minutes of my day.  In these small moments of boredom, you pretend to learn deep things about yourself.  Assumptions deduced by tiny actions that are multiplied by the lack of larger actions occurring.  Suddenly you realize that you haven’t eaten anything in a couple hours.  A couple hours without food and you start planning your casting video to be on “Survivorman” or go live in the woods, off the grid.  Yea, that’s the ticket.  A couple hours without food and suddenly Ghandi is a pussy for going on a hunger strike.  BIG DEAL, I could do it on my couch, pansy.