Charlie hustle

I am never, ever, ever late to my job.

Well, maybe once I was a little late.

Wait, let's skip ahead to the full confession. I am actually, realistically, late a full 50 percent of the time. On the other hand I am early 20 percent of the time. Also I am on time 30 percent of the time. But, and this is important, I am late leaving work 90 percent of the time. I never leave early. The way all this adds up, as far as I can tell, is that the library I work at owes me 60 percent of... something.

Something.

I can never tell exactly what the library owes me 60 percent of, so whenever I get a chance I sneak a paperclip into my pocket. You know, just to be safe. The accounts must be balanced!

No, I'm just kidding, my paperclip usage is scrupulously ethical.  And I wish I'd stop kidding because it's making it very hard for me to get anywhere in this blog post. But I'm not kidding about the accounts being balanced. It's just that time cannot be balanced by any number of stolen office supplies. As far as the structure of my union job and general cultural mores go the possible compensations of money and goods are entirely off the table.

This leaves only time. Time is the great compensator.

But before we discuss my due compensations of time I must bring up one of the fundamental tenants of the clerkmanifesto: We here flatly insist that the 20 hour work week is full time work. Everything above that is uncompensated overtime. And so, by that token, the library also owes me 50 percent of, well, something again. Time, I guess, time. Add that to the 60 percent and the library owes me 110 percent compensation!

This is why, whenever you see me, I am on break. 

Wait, one hundred and ten percent. I am not just on break, I am giving that break my all.