Your dad hated Mondays before you did and he would fist-greet anyone who said he had a case of it. Still basking in the weekend hangover from women, whiskey and wild times, he barely made it to work when each new week began. With Irish coffee in one hand, a smoke in the other and blood shot eyes shooting fist fight gazes at co-workers, he was just trying to survive for 8 hours. This was blue collar jail and his prison sentence was for the next 5 days. With every tick of the clock, he knew he was a moment closer to freedom and letting his inner party monster rage again.
So hipsters, when you’re making a latte for someone while complaining about how terrible today is and telling everyone how awesome you think you were this weekend, remember this…
You can’t complain about Mondays because you don’t have a real job and you don’t work 40-50 hours a week like he did.
Thanks to Liam for the killer photo.
