Today is the first Monday of September, which means that it’s Labor Day here in the States (and in Canada too, I think). The holiday celebrates workers, and its meaning is to rest. It also means that we – Callaghan and I – have no idea whether we should actually expect our huge house-shipping-from-France arrival event to happen today, as the shipping company had given us the awkward holiday weekend delivery window of Saturday through tomorrow.
How does it work with truckers and others whose jobs take them on the road for extended periods of time? Do they look at their little calendars on the dashboard and go, “Okay, it’s time to check into a motel!” and then sit there for 24 hours until it isn’t Labor Day anymore? Or do they just plow through the holiday, disregarding it completely? That wouldn’t seem fair. No one should have to work on Labor Day.
Or, as a former boss of mine used to sort of joke, people should actually work extra hard on Labor Day, a viewpoint shared by this guy:
It’s interesting how the way we think about work seems to be a reflection of what we do in life.
For example, yesterday, Callaghan was telling me about his friend who owns a restaurant in France.
“He’s a nice guy, but he’s not the best person for his job,” he said. “He should actually move to Costa Rica.”
“Why Costa Rica?” I asked, intrigued as always.
“Because he’s a sloth. He’s… very relaxed.” He went on to describe the guy’s slowness in bringing water and bread to the tables.
But of course! Only an artist/illustrator/cartoonist could so naturally reach such a conclusion. Leave it to Callaghan to get me forming mental images of sloths working in restaurants, balancing drink trays and platters of food on the ends of their long arms.
Anyway, have a great Labor Day! I don’t know what you’re doing, but we’re planning a Breaking Bad marathon… because we’re addicted. Har har!