Camaraderie

Finally it's Friday. Oh Hyne, I've been waiting so long for this day! The promise of the REST and the freedom dance before my eyes like a beer in front of the alcoholic. I reach out and I can already feel the cold, wet body of the bottle, teasing my pads but yet away from me. Just a little bit more. It's morning, and the minutes rush ahead, each lasting exactly 60 seconds, going in 60 seconds flat, little noses flaring from the effort, the speed reddening their little faces, and as the are gone, they look back, eyes set wide as if asking nervously "Did I make it?". The day flows away, office-time, or buttock-time, as my friend Karla says, like water in a plastic bag, and the bag has a hole. There's a certain "party-like" feeling floating in the air. We are not celebrating anything, just the weekend, a bit of camaraderie, particularly in the face of the events. There's a bill to pay for fucking up, and bosses are feeling the lash on their backs. Ants are moved here and there, but bosses can't hold into their high horses, and none of them is willing to lower their heads and become an ant again. But us, Ants, look at each other, share our burdens, and today we'll share our food.

After days of heavy skies, cold, wet breeze and dark clouds, heavenly blue shines upon and the sun spils rays of heat and light. "Fuck people! Brighten up! It's Firday!" it seems to say. The office and the issues of the office don't change, they remain the same shit it has been so far, but people are more relieved by Friday. Who the fuck cares about the butt-time and the lack of order and direction and the childish temper tantrums that lead the company in alleged "Strategical Plan" or CMI (Cuadro de Mando Integral) and all the shit that has no use whatsoever, but they are pushing up and down and moving all around because that's "Tha Shit" for the year? But it's Friday, and today we don't care. Today we all wait for lunch to gather around the table and share gossip and jokes and laugher along with the put-together lunches of everybody. All of them with a miriad of tuppaware dishes, scratched after years of using, heating, freezing and scrapping with old kitchen rags and abrasive washing solutions. One person servings feed ten people, everybody sharing, serving a spoonful or two to the people around the table. Lots of coocking styles mingle, foods are offered in almost familiar closeness.

For a moment it's not about fighing with the boss, sinking in worksheets and getting stuff ready, or getting bored trying to make up some kind of work to do in order to avoid insanity induced by idleness. It's a moment of laugher and joy. Karla's rolling laugher that can be heard miles away. Juan, Ricardo,Willow and Edwin making fun of each other, pretending to be gay couples. María Julia teasing, Cyn going a bit over the head with coarse comments, Rosario laughing and telling stories. Here and there others sharing gossip, laughing on the weakness of others, mocking the idiocy of some Kahunas. You won't hope for a dissertation, you won't hope for a healthy and invigorating exchange of ideals, not even a psedo-philosophical semi-seminar on some mundane topic. This is just about steaming a bit of stress out and laugh, laugh, laugh like a donkey.

Hey, it's Friday. You can afford a bit of goofiness!