Life is hard.
Being hungover in work is one of the most self-pitying situations you’ll ever find yourself in. Woe is you. If lightning was to strike you down on a day you’re hungover in work, the sweet release of death would be a welcome affair.
Here’s 6 extremely emotional stages you’re likely to experience during a hungover day in work.
STAGE 1: Acceptance
This stage usually sets in on the commute to work. You’re on the bus because you had to leave the car at work last night. There’s no seats and you’re essentially on your deathbed. It occurs to you that there should be a few seats reserved exclusively for people that are hungover, complete with cans of Club Orange and a decent bit of space to close your eyes for a few minutes. Acceptance sets in. You’re going to die today. Unlucky. It was fun while it lasted.
STAGE 2: Paranoia
You’ve made it into work, reward yourself by sitting at your desk for a while and figuring out who you can trust to share your tales of last night and not have a fuss made that you’re dying on your arse. Oh Christ, they’re onto you. Everyone knows and they’re looking at you. There’s a waft of booze seeping out through your pores and your hair has so much dry shampoo in it, you’re covered in a shroud of white powdery smoke. You’re disgusting. You’re a disgrace. They’re going to call you into a “meeting” that turns out to be a surprise intervention. Fab.
STAGE 3: Acting
You’re trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Don’t make a scene. Just sip your twelve cups of water and stare at some sort of a spreadsheet on your computer screen for as long as possible. Pray that the phone doesn’t ring because you currently sound like Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain. Try not to cry about Heath Ledger’s untimely passing because you’ll be asked what’s wrong and you don’t want people to find out you’re a lunatic. Not now. Not like this. Shuffle a few sheets of paper every twenty minutes and for the love of God keep the eyes down.
STAGE 4: Food
You’ve made it to lunchtime – heartfelt congratulations to you, good woman yourself! Now, you’re going to need to ingest an obscene amount of food if you have any real chance of making it through the rest of this day. The food needs to contain a minimum of 6,000 calories per bite and it will be strictly beige in colour. It’s probably best if you avoid sitting with the usual lunch crew for this affair, mostly to avoid their ghastly expressions as you cram 600g of pastry into your gob. RIP any shred of self-respect you still had intact after last night. Happens.
STAGE 5: Promises
Inevitably, the grub you expertly entered into your person during lunchtime has in fact made you feel roughly twelve times worse than before. Ideal. Here’s where you start bargaining with the good Lord above. Please, let me get through the rest of this day and I swear I’ll never put myself in this despicable situation again. I’ll even exercise at the weekend to prove my commitment. I’ll buy an avocado as well! (You’re perfectly aware that these promises are as empty as the bottles you were necking last night, but Himself above doesn’t need to know that).
STAGE 6: Relief
You’ve done it. It’s 5pm and you’re out of there, not a minute too soon. Treat yourself to a taxi home, you deserve it. Plan the next instalment of food and calculate what time you need to go to bed so you can secure a decent night’s kip. Continue your self-promises that it will never happen again, as you click ‘attend’ on another midweek event invitation on Facebook. Divil.
