What's so good about it, anyway?
March 25th, 2016
Apparently, 'Good Friday' is a holiday. It's not a federal holiday, but some services, such as my 401k, are not functioning. If the banks are open, why isn't the stock market? I suppose that's a symptom of living in a country overrun with people who claim to be holier than thou and thine, even if, for the most part, they can't be trusted to practice what they preach.
For some reason, my company observes 'Good Friday'. I would nominally be annoyed by this, save for the fact that I get paid whether or not I bother to show up to work on company holidays. And, if I do, I get paid double time on top of the standard eight hour holiday allowance. Thus, I'm technically making triple time as I type this, which means I'm getting paid a fortune to write.
You know, for once.
While a few folks came in to pick up a couple of succulent triple time hours, they've all since wandered off. I stay because I am milking this for all its worth, as my overtime is about to completely cease after this week anyway, and I'd like to end it with a bang. If I play my cards right, I should walk away with another eighty four or so hour work week, which is nothing to shake a stick at.
Even if all the Catholics who work here gave me the stinkeye for offering to come in yesterday. I guess I'm a horrible monster for working during this holy day. Or something! I almost began to tell them that Marduk was going to smite them for their heresy, but I decided to play nice. I probably shouldn't do that, really, since the vast majority of the hypocrites I work with never seem to bother to.
Which I've mentioned that once or twice.
I mostly just found it odd that two layers of my supervisors, both Catholics themselves, were seemingly taken aback by the notion of my even wanting to come in to work today. Particularly since both have since taken advantage of my presence to get a few more things out by the end of the quarter, thus making themselves look even better to their own bosses. Seems like a double standard, if you ask me.
But... whatever. I care not for the derision of anyone that works in this building, or for this company. Heck, I don't really care if anyone who works in this company lives or dies, much less if they die horribly when they do so. All that matters is me bringing in an appreciable chunk of the bacon, the rest being wholly ancillary. In other words, I don't need these people to like me, I just need them to pay me.
And oh will they be paying me next Friday.