Alright, I’ll admit it. I held the belief that our move to Denver would involve me adopting a more “bro” attitude towards work. I envisioned myself hanging a little note on my computer on Tuesdays that read, “Powder Day.”
But you can take the Chicago out of the boy, but you can’t take the boy out of Chicago. Wait. Switch that.
So last weekend I found myself with the, ahem, opportunity to come into the office. In an attempt to make up for the fact that I spent 12 hours skiing the previous weekend, I offered to bring Elijah with me. I was only there to approve some stuff that more talented people were doing, so I figured I could handle the boy.
Now, usually in a HamannEggs post, this was where the story goes very south and I end up getting covered in something…ick.
I honestly believe Elijah thinks my office was built using his dreams as a blueprint. Our lobby features a vintage go-cart built by our sports car client.
Sidebar. Even though three people officially read my blog, it’s not a good idea to call out client names. If I offend a major client by connecting their name with poop and pee stories, I’ll lose my job and then I’ll have to go back to stacking boxes at Jewel/Osco. BTW, I do not care about offending Jewel/Osco.
Where was I? Oh, Eli’s dream world. Our place has the vintage car to break. It also has row after row of huge computer monitors. Imagine a recreation of an Apple Store (Apparently I don’t care about offending Apple either). So Eli was able to play PBS Kids online on a screen that rivals our TV at home. Oh, and our place has free juice. Oh, and our place has free candy.
I believe Elijah was the first person in the history of the world to throw a fit and had to be dragged kicking and screaming from work. But he did. The only way I could convince him to leave was by offering to carry him on my shoulders.
Halfway home I felt like my heart was going to explode.
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