MURFREESBORO, TN – It’s Friday, which means that you get to leave these talentless ass-hats at work in your rearview mirror and retreat to your home, free from water cooler small talk, passive sexual advances, and the break room thief who keeps swiping your dessert out of the fridge.

And then there’s Patty, your fifty-three year old Human Resources Director who speaks more than the guy next to you on the plane last month who fully failed to comprehend the appropriateness of a conversation with someone who is both wearing headphones and asleep.

Patty approaches you and your friend, Michael, in the break room. Would we call Michael a friend? Maybe. He is the guy at work that you share the most in common with, but you’re not really sure if you’d talk to him if you saw him at Kroger this weekend, so who really knows?

Hey, Patty, you say, turning to allow Michael to say hello as well.

Michael is gone. You apparently were never friends and you certainly would not say hello at Kroger. That fucking traitor.

Patty then explains to you that this weekend happens to be the Tulip Festival in Fort Wilkins. Her family goes every year. They’re worried about the internet signal in the rural areas though, because her pug puppy, Marvin, is in a Facebook photo contest and needs as many likes as they can get.

But back to the Tulip Festival. Her husband is the one who looks forward to it the most, which leads you to believe that her husband may be going less to spend time with his wife and more to see that guy Lance, the Tulip King, who wins the contest every year, but that’s another story.

As Patty continues on, you look across the office and see Michael, Judas Iscariot incarnate, enjoying a conversation with Katelyn, a college intern at the office who is a pretty solid eight.

As you daydream about strangling the life out of Michael with your bare hands, Patty drones on about tulips and unicorns and whatever else your imagination brings into play.

It’s Friday, after all. The weekend will get here soon enough.